Topic: A Strange Turn

Emrys

Date: 2016-04-02 18:24 EST
The days that had marked the approach to the full moon had been filled with bustle and work at Marissa's private little cabin. The combined efforts of Marissa, Emrys, and the Mallorys had made the root cellar as secure as it was going to get. Everything that might even remotely cause injury had been removed, and Mara had even gone so far as to pad out the walls, door, and floor with thick layers of cloth to try and minimize the risk of fingernail damage over the worrying night to come. Emrys had worked with Duncan on the locks and the door to make them as sturdy as was humanly possible, fully invested in making sure there was absolutely no way he could possibly hurt Marissa when he turned. He'd lost the argument over leaving a small window in the door, however - Mara had been firmly on Marissa's side when it came to making sure that her friend could check on him with ease, and that had meant that Duncan wasn't going to back him up.

But finally, all the preparations were done, and the cabin was quiet once again. Acutely aware of the tug deep inside as the night of the full moon came closer, Emrys began to pace, agitated and worried. "Whatever I say, whatever I do, do not open that door," he told Marissa for the umpteenth time as the afternoon wore quickly on toward dusk. "Promise me."

"I'm expecting to hear a lot of growling behind that door," Marissa remarked, turning briefly to watch him pace the floor, a faint smile on her face, though this situation was far from amusing. "You're gonna wear a hole in the floor if you keep doing that," she warned him as she turned back to the bowl in front of her, where she was adding various ingredients and grinding them together to make some sort of paste.

"The human throat isn't made for growling," he said, calm on the outside despite his pacing. "I may not have much of a voice tomorrow, but I'd rather be mute than have your blood on my hands." He swallowed, incredibly nervous about the whole adventure. If left to his own devices, he would have been several miles away by now and in the process of burying himself up to the neck to make it hard for his wolf brain to get out and go anywhere. "What's that you're doing?" he asked, a curious frown on his face.

"Taking precautions," she told him, without explanation. "Whether the human throat is made for growling or not, if your mind shifts to that of a wolf, you're going to behave like a wolf." She picked up the bowl and started down the stairs toward the door that would be locked and secured from the outside. It was doubtful he'd have any chance of getting through that door, but one could never be too careful.

"What do you mean by precautions?" he asked, following her down the stairs. "What is in that?" He wasn't intentionally being difficult, but he was nervous and worried, and Marissa had just given him an answer that answered nothing.

"Just some mojo my grandma taught me," she replied, as she went about painting sigils made of the stuff in the bowl onto the door. They didn't look like much, but were some kind of protective wards that would hopefully help keep him inside the room and away from the door. "It's tribal magic. Long story," she told him, without much of an explanation again.

"Magic," he repeated. Emrys did not have the best track record when it came to magic, but he trusted Marissa. If she believed it would work, then he would accept that what she was doing was the right thing in the circumstances. "You do realize I'm going to be completely naked, yes?" he asked suddenly, realizing that he hadn't shared this part. "I learned that one the hard way. It is not pleasant to wake up with parts of your own clothing embedded in your flesh."

"It's a hard trick to teach," she told him, presumably having a little more experience at that than he did. Though she was young, all her alter egos' memories were stored somewhere inside her mind. There were times when she thought they might drive her mad, but at times like this, she was grateful for their combined knowledge and experience. A tiny smirk flickered across her face as she turned to him momentarily. "You think I've never seen a naked man before?"

He blushed, despite his nervous agitation. "You've never seen me naked," he pointed out. "Unless you've been spying on me in the bath." He hadn't admitted it yet, but he had quickly come around to the simple pleasure of being able to clean himself on a regular basis. He could almost have been spoiled, were it not for the fact that he was still insisting on sleeping by the fire on his bear pelt.

"How do you know?" she asked, unable to stop herself from teasing him, despite the gravity of their situation. She turned back to painting the sigils on the door. It was quick work, but she had to be precise, and she was relying on memory alone.

"You've been taking advantage of me when I'm asleep, have you?" Emrys snorted with laughter, glad he could at least see something funny right now, despite the looming night ahead of them. It would only be for a few hours, but he had no idea what he looked like when he was turned. He didn't want to distress her. "You know, you should just lock me in and go and spend the night with your friends or your family," he told her yet again. "You don't need to see this, kitten."

She echoed his laughter, but it didn't last, sighing as he turned the subject back around to the night that was looming in front of them - a night that was going to be terrifying for them both, but she hadn't gone this far to turn back now. "I'm not leaving you alone here," she insisted, just as she had each time he'd brought it up for discussion.

He was quiet for a long moment, his arms crossed at his chest as he considered the sigils she had painted on the door in her interesting herby mush. "I'm frightened, Marissa," he confessed with a low sigh. It took a lot to even admit to being nervous, much less afraid, but they had spent almost every waking hour together for a couple of weeks now. He felt safe to tell her about such a vulnerability.

She sighed again to hear him say it, though she supposed it was good he trusted her enough to admit it. She was scared, too, but not exactly for the same reasons. Finished with this last bit of preparation, she moved over to him and pressed a hand against his stubbled cheek. "Do you trust me, Emrys?" she asked him quietly, eyes searching his. She already knew the answer to her question, but she needed to hear him say it, or maybe she just wanted him to admit it to himself.

He looked into her eyes, unwinding one arm to curl his hand about hers against his cheek. "Aye, I trust you, kitten," he promised her solemnly. "I care more for you than I have for anyone in my lifetime. And I'm frightened that once you've seen me like this, you will not want me in your home or in your life any longer. I would not blame you for it, but I fear it."

"You forget again that my father was a werewolf, Emrys. He was not so different from you. I have seen things in my life ....terrible, horrible things ....and I am sure you are not one of them." She offered him a soft, reassuring smile, hoping he would believe her for once, without her having to explain further. "There's a few hours yet before sunset. Let me make you a cup of tea."

"Wait." Before she could move away, he reached for her, drawing her close into his arms as he buried his face against her neck, breathing her in. She didn't seem to understand that his fear was based entirely on the fact that it hurt to watch someone you care for in pain, something he knew she would have to do if she insisted on looking through that little window tonight. He needed her to know that he would be the same man when the shift was done, regardless of anything that he might do tonight.

Emrys

Date: 2016-04-02 18:25 EST
She nearly dropped the bowl as he pulled her close, gathering her into his embrace, but she made no protest. He seemed to need her somehow, to know she meant everything she'd said. She knew he was more afraid for her than for himself, but they had taken every possible precaution, save putting him in chains. That was where she'd drawn the line. Locking him up was cruel enough; she refused to put him in chains. She could take care of herself if she had to, and if things went south, well ....she'd survived worse things than a rogue werewolf. It was him she was worried about. She knew it wasn't going to be easy watching him suffer through this, but she needed to know. If they were going to have any chance of building a life together, she needed to witness it for herself.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, gently easing back from the embrace. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed as he stepped back, gesturing up the stairs. "After you, kitten."

"I wish you'd stop apologizing all the time," she told him, as gently as she could, a hint of hurt in her voice, though she tried to hide it. She stayed where she was a moment longer, just looking at him, as if there was something she wanted to say that just wouldn't come out, before turning at last and starting back up the stairs. "And please don't apologize for apologizing," she added for good measure.

He opened his mouth to do just that, and abruptly snapped it shut, frowning as she turned away. "Have I done something wrong?" he asked her softly, moving to follow her. "I don't mean to hurt you, Marissa. I'm trying to protect you, but I'm obviously not particularly good at it."

"Wrong?" she echoed as she went to the sink to clean out the bowl. "No ....I don't know," she replied with a shrug of her shoulders, though her back was turned toward him. "We know so little of each other. There's never enough time, is there?" she mused aloud, though it was a rhetorical question that she didn't expect him to answer. "I saw something once a long time ago. Something ....terrible." She nearly shuddered with the memory of it, her gaze focused on cleaning the bowl, though her thoughts were far away. "I'm not afraid of you, Emrys, if that's what you think, and I'm not going to leave you to suffer through this alone." There were far worse things in the world than lycanthropes, after all.

"No matter what you see tonight, I will still be the same man when it is over," he promised her. "I remember nothing from my shifts. I don't even know if I'm capable of speech when I'm turned. I don't want to frighten you, kitten." He sighed softly, moving to stand at her back - close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him, but not touching her. He still treated her a little like a wild animal when he didn't know how she was going to react.

"I know," she admitted, feeling his presence behind her, without needing to look. She heard his voice come closer, felt the warmth that radiated from him, recognized his scent as well as any of her own kin. All of her heightened awareness knowing he stood only inches away from her, close enough to touch him, if she dared, and while she wasn't afraid of him, there was something else that frightened her. "It's too late for that now, Emrys. It's too late," she whispered, more to herself than to him.

"It's never too late, Marissa," he murmured, stepping close enough that his chest touched her back, his lips brushing the tip of her ear. Instincts he had never believed he truly had before meeting her were screaming at him to take the chance while he still had it, telling him to trust in her strength. "In the morning, I will still be what I am ....the man who loves you."

She tensed as she felt him come closer, her pulse quickening at the faintest touch of his lips, of the sound of his voice so close to her ear, the vibration of it in his chest. She could almost sense the blood that thrummed through his veins. Oh, it would be so easy to let the tiger loose, but she didn't want to taste his flesh, not in that way. And then he said it - the words he'd been hinting at for weeks, words that both thrilled and frightened her to her core. She'd heard those words before - no, that had been the others. They were all gone now, all lost. All the friends and the lovers, but him. Part of her wanted to tell him not to - that he was a fool to love her, that it would only bring him pain and sorrow - but wasn't that what he'd been trying to tell her, too' She turned to face him, tears sparkling in her soft brown eyes, and buried her face against his chest.

He hadn't expected her to react at all, if he was honest with himself. She had deflected almost every hint he had given her of his growing feelings, and yet now ....His arms rose to wrap about her, recalling the way she had cried on him when he had told her he would not risk knowing her just to save his sister's life in the past. She really was a wounded animal, unused to being made the center of anyone's world. His hand gently stroked her hair as he held her, letting her cry herself out if she needed to. "That will never change, kitten," he promised her in a low tone. "Even if you were to throw me out tomorrow, I would love you still, and will do, until the end of my days."

"Please, don't ..." she whispered, her voice ragged with tears. She wasn't asking him not to love her, so much as wishing he wouldn't talk about her sending him away. "Don't you understand?" she said, punching his chest with a half-hearted effort. "I don't want to lose you. I'm terrified of losing you," she told him between sobs.

He grunted a little at the punch to his chest, unable to help smiling at her sobbing words. "Marissa ..." One hand gently cupped her cheek, raising her eyes to his as he looked down at her. "Why do you assume you are going to lose me?"

"Because ..." she started, unsure how to explain exactly. He'd done nothing thus far to make her think he'd leave. He had, in fact, done everything to make her think he'd stay, so what was she afraid of exactly. Did she really believe she couldn't be lucky just this once" Didn't they both deserve to be happy' "Because I ..." There were no words to explain the feelings of loss and loneliness that haunted her, even if they weren't her own thoughts and feelings. They were all together now, all part of the whole. "I lost someone before ..."

His thumb gently stroked her cheek as he looked into her eyes. "I'm not him," he reminded her gently. "I won't leave unless you tell me to, and I don't believe you will do that. We're all afraid of being alone, kitten; afraid of being broken by someone who doesn't love the way we deserve. I have nothing to offer you but myself, broken as I am. But everything I have is yours."

"I can't do it again. I can't. It's why I've been alone. All this time. I'm scared, Emrys. I'm afraid what will happen, but I'm not afraid for me. I'm afraid for you, don't you see?" she said, meeting his gaze, unable to hide the haunted look from her eyes. "I-I think I love you and ..." She trailed off again, the words caught in her throat.

"Shh ..." He couldn't help the surge of pleasure that rose through him as she reciprocated his declaration, leaning down to gently touch his lips to hers. "Then that is all we need be concerned with," he told her softly. "Love is trust. I trust that you will not hurt me. I hope that you trust I would not hurt you. There is no rule that says you must be ready to be in love, Marissa. I have never felt this way, and I know I will never feel this way for anyone else. Give me time to prove to you that I am not going anywhere. Let me help you learn how not to be afraid anymore."

She lost herself in his kiss, and everything in the world seemed right again, if only for a moment, but the afternoon was waning, and they were both dreading the night. "Don't talk of me sending you away anymore. Nothing that happens tonight will change anything. We are not so different, Emrys," she told him, fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "I am half wolf, like you. I chose the cat, but I could have just as easily chosen the wolf. Nothing you do tonight will frighten me. I have seen things, Emrys. Terrible things ....Nothing about you frightens me. I am only worried I will lose you."

"I did not mean that you would send me away," he tried to clarify his earlier words for her peace of mind. "Let me try again. I love you, Marissa. And no matter what happens, even if we were separated by miles and years by some ungodly magic, I would still love you. As broken as I am, I would be your mate, and I will do whatever you ask of me. Because I love you."

Emrys

Date: 2016-04-02 18:25 EST
Her eyes filled with fresh tears as he made himself clear. It was almost too much - more than she could have ever hoped for, more than she had ever expected, and coming at such an unexpected time and from such an unexpected source. Who or what had brought him into her life" If they survived this night, then there was a greater force that needed to be properly thanked, but she would think on that later. For now, all she wanted was to immerse herself in all that was Emrys. "Then never leave me," she told him, hands fisting into his shirt and pulling him close. "I want you," she whispered, her lips close to his.

"Oh, kitten ..." He went only too willingly into that closer embrace, nuzzling his nose tenderly against hers as she whispered to him. "I will never leave you. I have wanted you since that first morning here in your cabin." But easy as those words were to say, he hesitated before continuing, touching slow, gentle kisses to her lips as he spoke. "Tomorrow, when the fear and the worry are over, I will happily share that desire with you," he told her in a low whisper, each kiss reinforcing the promise of his loving affection in the hope that she would not take the rejection too much to heart. It wasn't a no; it was a later. "But the last thing I want to do is to rush, or leave you undone, because the moon comes sooner than I am expecting." His fingers swept through her hair as he held her gaze. "When it happens, I do not want to have anything hanging over that experience. I want us to have the leisure to take our time without fearing the moon or the sun."

For once, she seemed to understand what it was he was telling her, but she couldn't help but look disappointed, fearful even. And yet, she wouldn't insist; she wouldn't take what he wasn't yet ready and willing to give. But what if he didn't make it' What if something horrible happened during the night, and she lost him forever" No. She pushed that thought from her mind. They had prepared for every possibility, even if the unthinkable happened, and he got loose. She simply would not accept the possibility that she might lose him. Not again. Never again. Until next time. Until the moons were full again. There had to be a better way, and they would find it together. "I love you, Emrys," she told him at long last. The hell with what anyone else thought or wanted. He was her other half; she was sure of it. She pulled him closer, searing his lips with a kiss that was full of passion and promise and that just might carry them through the long night ahead.

For the first time, it seemed as though he had said the right thing. He saw her disappointment, but he didn't see the hurt he had been hoping not to see, more than happy to gather her into his arms and return that passionate kiss. His arms were sure about her, his kiss filled with as many promises as hers. And for the first time in his life, despite the agitation of the moon's pull warning him that time was running short, he felt as though he truly belonged. It was a gift he knew he could never repay her, but he would spend the rest of his days trying.

Time was something Marissa knew well. They were well acquainted with each other, sometimes friends, sometimes enemies. Time, Marissa knew, was the most precious commodity in the multi-verse. There was precious little of it, even to those who deemed themselves immortal. Those who knew how to travel through it knew how precious it was and how dangerous it could be to those who might want to change it. Marissa was one of those people, and in that moment, she wished she could have made time stand still for just a little while longer, but time waited for no one, and the moon's pull was growing stronger. She clung to him as long as time would allow, but she knew would soon have to let him go, and she would have to stand witness to what awaited in the night. "I will be here in the morning," she promised him, as their lips parted. "And I will still love you."

"Then I can face the night with more strength than I have had in a very long time," he told her tenderly, cradling her face between his hands as he kissed her just once more, as gentle as he had been fierce just moments before. "It's time," he said quietly, brushing his nose against hers. Stepping away, he slipped out of his boots and sweater, turning to make his way back down the stairs to the carefully prepared cellar.

They had discussed every possibility carefully, and she was prepared to drug him, if she had to, but only if he showed signs of doing himself serious harm. She was hoping it wouldn't come to that, but she was prepared for it, if it did. "Emrys," she said, catching him by the arm as he made for the stairs. "We'll figure this out together," she told him, promising she'd help him find a better way than this.

He paused, laying his hand over hers on his arm. "I know," he assured her quietly. "I love you, Marissa." Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed her fingers, releasing her to jog down the steps and into the homemade padded cell they had created. A moment later, he threw his jeans, shirt, and underwear out onto the steps, reaching to pull the door closed. "Lock it tight, kitten."

She seemed to linger on every word he said, one at a time - I love you. Just a few hours until the moon waned in the sky. That was all it would be, but somehow it seemed like forever. She followed him down the stairs, her heart frozen with fear as he pulled the door closed. There was no going back now and nothing that could be done, but pray. She bolted the door and then drew the bar down over it that would hold it securely closed. "It's secure," she told him, knowing he'd hear her voice through the door.

"All right." His voice sounded strong through the padding and the sturdy door, but he was trying very hard not to be as openly afraid as he was feeling. He knew she was going to have a much tougher night than he was, no matter what damage he did to himself. "Are you sure you want to stay close for this?"

"What would you do if it was me?" she asked him, knowing what he'd say, knowing he'd do the very same thing. She dared to peer through the window, to catch a glimpse of the man she loved one last time before the moon took hold of his mind.

He was standing in the darkness, his pale skin making him easy to pick out, only turned half away from the door. As she watched, he drew in a deep breath, letting it go slowly. "I would be in here with you," he admitted. "But that's because I am also an idiot."

"And then you would also be dead," she pointed out helpfully, but then she wasn't a slave to the changing of the moon. Her people weren't werewolves, and she had learned long ago to control the change, so that it happened at will - or mostly, at will. "Do you feel anything yet?" she asked, pressing her ear against the door so she could hear him better.

He snorted with laughter at her helpful addition, glad she was taking this so well. "Not yet," he called back to her, rolling his shoulders. "But it's close. I feel ....itchy all over." He'd never really described to anyone how it felt in the moments before his mind turned. He certainly didn't know what a good sign that itchiness was. Perhaps the defect in him was not so irreversible as he had always believed.

"Like you want to shed your own skin," she said, understanding that feeling well, though she had never thought to put it into words and certainly wouldn't have described it as itchiness. "Do you feel ....restless" Like you want to run and run and never stop?"

"Like every hair on my body is stretching," he tried to describe the sensation, glancing toward the door as she asked another question. "Restless ....I suppose I do. I want out. I want to see the moon, I want to feel the breeze. I-I'm feeling agitated, like I want to rip something apart if I don't get my way." As he spoke, he gestured wildly, his breathing coming faster as he began to pace back and forth in the small space. The shift was coming, he could feel it, but he'd never focused on that feeling before.

"Don't fight it when it comes. It's easier if you don't fight it. It's natural - a natural part of yourself. Until you accept that part of yourself, you'll never learn to control it. You are man and you are wolf. Both one and the same - together, not separate. Two parts of the whole. The goddess is with you, Emrys. She is the moon. She makes you what you are. You must listen to her, trust her, let her lead and guide you," she told him gently, wondering if she shouldn't have told him all this before, if it was already too late.

Emrys

Date: 2016-04-02 18:26 EST
And there it was, the clouding force that slammed hard into his mind, wiping away the man he was from every nuance of his form. In the darkness, he howled, and the sound was painful, torn from a throat that had never been designed for such use. He dropped into a crouch, hunching back against the wall of the cellar, displaying the yellow eyes of a wolf. His lip curled back, revealing sharper points to his teeth. So it would seem that Emrys' shift was not wholly in the mind, after all.

She felt her skin prickling with a chill that wasn't from the cold when she heard that howl, hearing the pain in his voice as he tried to do that which the wolf bade him, that which was natural to his species, but unnatural for his human throat. She could sense the change in him before she dared to look, eyes wide to find he was not wholly human, though the look of him in that half-human state was almost more horrifying that to have seen him as a fully formed werewolf. There was something wrong about it, something only half-finished, and she thought herself foolish for trying to offer any words of advice. She searched his eyes for some shred of the man, some hint that he was still there somewhere, or was he wholly lost to the beast in his head"

There was an intelligence in the yellow eyes that betrayed him. Though Emrys might not recall what happened in these hours, he was still there. This was his wildness, the wolf inside him that begged to be freed but for a few mistakes in his creation. He raised his head, sniffing at the air, and his eyes swung about to the door, focusing on the sight of her through the little window with startling accuracy. His nostrils flared, the long line of his human limbs drawing him toward the door in a low, predatory crouch, drawn toward her by her scent.

Fear clutched her heart as it pounded in her chest, and she remembered another night, another encounter - terrible pain and paralyzing fear and then nothing - but that was not this night. No, it was only a memory of something that had gone before. She turned away from the window as she struggled with that fear, but he was no demon - he was only a man struggling with his own gifts, just as she'd once struggled. She gathered her courage and turned back to look at him again, to meet his gaze, to try and reach the humanity in him and look past the beast. "Emrys," she said, her mouth whispering his name.

By the time she turned back, he was right there, barely a foot from her, only the sturdy door and her protective magic separating them. There was no aggression in the way he looked at her - curiosity, longing perhaps, in those yellow animalistic eyes as they studied her face. He leaned closer, sniffing at her as his brow creased, hearing his name, recognizing it as his own ....recognizing her as his own. And someone or something had locked her away where he could not reach her. The animal aggression rose, primal fury at being kept from his mate, and he threw himself at the door with a loud snarl.

She met his gaze unflinchingly, touching her fingers to the window almost as if she wanted to reach out and touch him. There was something in his eyes that seemed to recognize her, despite the fact that his mind had given way to the wolf. She whispered his name again, as if trying to reach him, trying to soothe him, but it seemed her presence only frustrated him. Her eyes grew large as he threw himself at the door, fear clutching her heart. She remembered what he'd told her about his sister - would he kill her the way he'd killed his sister, without knowing what he was doing, or was it something else that was causing his rage"

But he never touched the door itself. The sigils she had painted on the wood burst to life in a bright, blinding glow, sending him whimpering back to the shadows at the far side of the cellar, frightened as any animal would be of something unexpected. He lurked back there, whimpering to himself, the expression on his face very human. He looked hurt and frightened, wanting to be with her, but unable to reach her.

She wasn't too surprised by his reaction to the sigils. She had been the one who'd put them there, after all, though she hadn't quite expected him to react so strongly. Still, at least he hadn't hurt himself yet, and he hadn't tried to hurt her, but the night was young, and it would take hours for the moon to traverse the sky. Her heart ached to see him like that, and she wondered not for the first time if there wasn't something she could do to help him.

Things seemed quiet for a while after that. Emrys paced back and forth, anxious and restless, his eyes never leaving the little window through which he could see his mate. Very slowly, he approached the door once again, wary of the sigils that still glowed dimly when he brushed his hand against the cloth-padded wood. He whined in the back of his throat, the yellow of his lupine eyes flickering briefly to the green she was more familiar with as he looked at her longingly. But as the wolf took control again, he moved with purpose, scratching at the door continuously as though trying to dig his way through, heedless of the pain as he rubbed his fingertips raw, breaking his fingernails in his eagerness to reach her.

Marissa felt torn between her feelings of sympathy and horror. She wished she could open the door and go to him, hold him in her arms and try to soothe his fears and his anger, but in his current state of mind, it was too dangerous. Tears rolled down her cheeks while she watched him - an animal trapped in a cage - and she realized how cruel it was to keep him there, even if it was for his own protection. He was a wild thing and he deserved to be free, but not like this. Naked and cold and afraid - half human, half beast. There had to be a way to help him, but she wasn't sure how.

"Emrys," she called to him again, alarmed as he made his way to the door once again, scratching with fingers that weren't made for such things. "Emrys, stop ....Please," she pleaded, though she knew he couldn't understand her words.

He growled softly in the back of his throat - non-threatening, just an expression of that want to be near her as he scratched at the door with growing frustration. A quiet whine left him at the sound of his name on her lips, his hands stilling for a moment as he leaned against the dimly glowing wood to sniff at her hopefully.

"I'm here," she told him, her eyes meeting his, searching his, trying desperately to reach the man inside the beast. "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere. I love you, remember" Just ....try to rest. It will be over soon. I promise." She tried to keep her voice soft, soothing, but she couldn't help but let the worry creep in, the pain and the anguish to see him that way.

He whined again, the sound becoming one of desperation as his attention returned to scratching at the door, trying to dig his way through. He didn't even seem to notice when the cloth tore under his fingers, taking at least two of his nails with it.

She couldn't see what was going on behind the door, only that he was incessantly scratching, as if he was trying to claw his way out, but at least, he wasn't throwing himself at the door anymore or snarling in anger. There was something sweet about the beast that lurked within him, as dangerous as he was, or was she misjudging him because she loved him' She was tempted, so tempted to open the door and join him, but there was no telling what he might do if she did. No, it was better this first time to watch and to wait, and to hope for the best.

She was his focus. Some part of the beast in him recognized her as being his mate, the one he had chosen to stay with. All he truly wanted was to be with her, and yet, the animal in him would only really want one thing if that wish was granted. Frustrated by the barrier between them, he scratched and scratched, wasting hours as the moon trekked across the sky, heedless of his bloodied hands and the pain that came with them.

Hours passed slowly, while the moon made its trek across the sky with the beast that lived inside Emrys trying to scratch his way out, while Marissa stood vigil, never once leaving his side - not even to eat or sleep. It was exhausting, but not nearly as exhausting for her as it was for him.

In the small hours of the night, the full moon waned, lifting her powerful influence from the broken werewolf's mind. The incessant scratching ceased. Emrys groaned, staggering back from the door to fall onto his knees as he gasped for breath. As consciousness returned to him, he became aware of the sweat chilling his skin, the ache in his arms and throat, the burning pain of his bloodied hands, hissing at the sting as he looked down to see the mess he had made of his fingers. Yet his first thought was not for himself.

"Marissa?" he rasped, trying to force volume from a throat made raw. "Are ....are you ....all right?"

Emrys

Date: 2016-04-02 18:27 EST
She sagged against the door, exhausted and emotionally drained. The scratching had suddenly stopped, and she thought she heard his voice calling her from behind the door. She lifted her head to peer through the window again, her face weary and tear-stained, but none the worse for wear. "Emrys?" she asked tentatively, hoping he'd returned to her at long last.

Wearily, he raised his head to look toward the door, hearing the tears in her voice with a pained grimace. "It's safe," he rasped, his throat throbbing with each word. "It's over."

"Thank the goddess," she muttered under her breath, pushing off the door with renewed energy to shove the bar away and unlock the door. She gathered up the pile of supplies they'd left near the door before stepping into the room to join him at last. She took one look at him and her heart sank, especially at the sight of his hands, bloody and raw from trying to scratch his way through the door, but she refused to cry. Not now, not when he needed her. She moved over to him, throwing a blanket over his shoulders and pulling it closed around him, not just for her own sake but for his. "You're shivering," she told him, rubbing his back and shoulders to warm him.

He leaned into her, grateful that she was still so ready to take care of him after his turn. No one had ever taken care of him in the aftermath - he had spent years learning to get over the exhaustion and shock by himself, to bandage whatever injuries he had given himself, and throw himself back into daily life. It felt nice, to have someone there who was not only willing, but able, to make sure he was all right. "I'll be fine," he promised, his voice barely more than a whisper. "It'll wear off in a little bit."

"Shut up and let me take care of you," she scolded gently, knowing better than he might think how he was feeling. She remembered her first shift and how terrifying it was, no matter how prepared she might have been for it. "Here ..." she told him, handing him a bottle of water, then thinking better of it, considering the condition of his hands and lifting it to his lips. He had to be parched, and that was just the start of it.

He laughed a little weakly at her scolding, obediently taking a few slow sips from the bottle she held to his lips. His hands would be fine come the morning, but for now, he wasn't going to be picking anything up or doing anything intricate with his fingers. "Thank you." He raised his head, offering her a tired smile. "I love you."

"So you keep saying," she told him with a faint smile. "Come on," she said, helping him to his feet. "Let's get you back upstairs and have a good look at you." She slid an arm around him to help support him and take some of his weight, stronger than she looked. She could have shifted and easily carried him up the stairs, but she had a feeling the man had his pride, and letting her take care of him was humbling enough already.

Thankfully, he was so used to being alone at this point that his body knew it had to claw back some strength before it was allowed to sleep. As she helped him up, he found his feet with only a faint stagger, holding his hands in front of him as they throbbed, already healing on their own. "I keep saying it because it's true," he told her as they attempted the stairs.

"Do you remember any of it?" she asked, taking it slowly, one step at a time as she help him up the stairs where he could be more comfortable and she was better equipped to tend to his hurts. There would be no lovemaking tonight - not with those hands the way they were - but that was the least of her worries. Things could have gone much worse.

He shook his head automatically, stopping the motion as a thought came to him. "A little," he said, and the surprise was there in his voice. "I usually don't remember anything, but ....I don't know, maybe I dreamed it. I saw you, through that little window, really close to. You were crying."

She frowned, knowing that had been no dream. The evidence was right there on her face, if he took the time to look hard enough, especially if he looked at her eyes. "That wasn't a dream," she told him bluntly, falling silent as she struggled to get him up the stairs.

Oh, he had seen the tear-tracks, and if he'd been capable, it would have been him taking care of her. But for now, he was in her hands, shaky and weary and desperately in need of the accelerated healing he was thankfully blessed with. They were silent until they reached the top of the stairs, away from the darkness of the little cellar. "I've never remembered anything from my shift before," he said wonderingly. "What changed?"

"I don't know," she replied, truthfully. There were so many different answers to that question, she wasn't really sure which was true. "Maybe it was the sigils," she suggested mildly, though she thought there just might be more to it than that. Once they were up the stairs, she helped him to a chair near the hearth, adjusting the blanket around him, before stepping away to get the fire going.

"Maybe." He groaned softly as she helped him down into the chair, oblivious to being naked for the moment. The blanket was definitely helping with the shivering, though. "But I've tried magic before, and it never let me remember anything. Unless ..." His green gaze softened as he watched her working at the hearth, a faint smile touching his lips. "Unless it's you," he said quietly. "What did the wolf want, kitten?"

She didn't answer for a long moment, turning to face him only once she had the fire going. "I don't know, Emrys, but ....he seemed to recognize me somehow. Your eyes ....the wolf's eyes ....They turned green once, and I thought maybe you were gaining control over him, but it didn't last. I don't think he meant me any harm. He seemed ....sad, somehow." She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders before getting to her feet to go put the kettle on. She wanted to get something warm in him and then she'd see to his hands. "It was wrong to lock you in the cellar. Cruel. I don't think I can do it again."

"Then I was right," he murmured, astonished that his instincts had been so very spot on. His eyes followed her as she moved away. "You're my mate, Marissa. That's the only explanation that makes any sense." He smiled, truly delighted with this discovery. The smile, however, faded as she went on. "It's the only option, kitten," he told her gently. "Lock me up, or chain me up. I know what my wolf side would do to you if we left him free, and I don't want you to have to go through any of that."

"What would he do, Emrys?" she asked as she turned back to him for a moment, waiting for the kettle to boil. She wanted to go to him, to wrap her arms around him and hold onto him forever, but he had injuries that required attention and so, her affection would have to wait.

"Mate you." He cringed just saying it. "It wouldn't be gentle, or even vaguely pleasant. He'd mark you as his if he could, whether you wanted it or not. I don't want you to have to suffer that, Marissa."

"Mate me?" she echoed. "What do you mean?" she asked, trying to understand. She understood that while he was in the wolf's state of mind, a mating wouldn't be gentle, but she was no ordinary woman herself.

"I mean ..." He hesitated, and just plunged straight on, slowly beginning to learn that euphemisms just didn't work with Marissa. He was going to have to get used to being very blunt. "Full penetrative sex, using teeth and nails to subdue you while making sure you got pregnant. The animalistic side of a mating."

Emrys

Date: 2016-04-02 18:27 EST
"Mm, sounds kinky. The weretiger might like it," she said, the slightest hint of a smirk on her face, despite the serious tone in his voice. "Really, Emrys. I'm a weretiger. Do you really think you could hurt me if I didn't want you to?" she asked, turning the tables back around on him. Unlike him, she had control of her animal form - mostly, anyway. She turned back to make him a cup of tea because her foster mother had taught her that tea always makes everything better.

He managed a lopsided smile in response to that. "I know you could easily swat me onto the floor and pin me there for a few hours," he assured her. "It's just ....I don't want you to ever feel uncomfortable, or even have a moment of fear around me, if I can possibly help it. I can understand that having a predatory male wanting to impregnate you would be a little scary, even for you."

"Well, yes ..." she admitted with a frown. "It would scare me, but the tiger wouldn't stand for it. I just ..." She sighed. "I wouldn't want her to hurt you either." She turned back to prepare a cup of tea. "There are things about me you still don't know, Emrys. Things you probably should know," she added quietly, before turning to the hearth to hand him the hot steaming mug. "Sip it slowly. It's got some herbs in it that will help with the pain."

He took the mug carefully between his palms, looking a little like an overgrown toddler as he obediently sipped the contents, all thumbs and fingers sticking out everywhere. "Kitten, you don't have to tell me anything," he reminded her, clearing his throat as his voice abruptly came back, the ache leaving his voice box. "I would like you to feel as though you can tell me anything and everything, but your knowledge, your past ....they belong to you. I will listen to anything you have to tell me, but I will never insist that you share it."

"Here, let me help," she said, crouching down in front of him to help with the mug, almost forgetting about his wounded fingers until she saw him struggling. "If we're going to be together, then there are some things you need to know, but it doesn't have to be today," she told him gently. "Careful, Em," she warned him, as he helped with the tea. "Will they be better by morning?" she asked, of his hands.

"Thank you." He half-smiled, grateful for the help she gave him. "No one's ever looked after me like this before," he admitted almost shyly. "I like it." Taking another sip from the mug as she helped him, he swallowed, taking a better look at his hands. The worst of the damage he had done was already healed, but it would take a few more hours for the fingernails to grow back. "They'll heal by morning," he assured her. "I've done worse, believe me."

"I'm sure," she replied, letting him take another sip while she remained close, relieved his ordeal was over, for now anyway. "I was thinking ....Perhaps next time I should take you hunting. It's what the wolf wants, and he can't hurt me in my weretiger form." Besides, if things kept going the way they were going, they'd likely be mated by then. "We can focus on small game. Rabbits, squirrels ....nothing too big or too dangerous."

"That is true," he admitted reluctantly. He didn't like it, but then, neither of them had particularly liked the locking him up idea, either. He knew she could protect herself from him. At some point, he was going to have to admit that it made more sense just to let her take charge. "I don't feel comfortable with it, but perhaps you're right. But then, I've never remembered anything from a shift before tonight, and that has a lot to do with you being here."

"We have another whole month before we have to worry about it," she said, touching a hand to his cheek. "I was worried for you," she admitted, her gaze soft with obvious affection.

He closed his eyes, leaning into the gentle touch of her hand. For someone who had been starved of any kind of tactile affection in his life, Marissa's growing confidence to give him just that touched his heart. Green eyes opened to hold her gaze, a smile in them that only barely touched his lips and seemed somehow more intimate than others he might have given her. "I knew you were watching over me," he told her quietly. "I'm sorry if I scared you."

And her heart longed to give him that love and affection she knew he'd been lacking, if only she could get past her own fears. "There you go apologizing again," she pointed out with a small smirk of her own. She took the cup from him and set it aside. "Now, let me see your hands," she demanded, offering her own.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it," he apologized again, his eyes twinkling with a teasing light as he grinned at her. It seemed that it didn't take long for his usual good humor to return, even after the trauma of his not-quite-turn at the full moon. Her demand to see his hands made him chuckle, stretching them out in front of her. Despite the dried blood, they looked mostly intact now, but there were three fingernails still missing. Those looked particularly raw.

She winced at the condition of his fingers, though she knew from the incessant scratching she'd heard on the other side of the door, they were already looking far better than they had been just a short time ago. "You're a quick healer," she remarked, reaching for the med kit she'd brought over with the tea. It was no big surprise as lycanthropes usually had a natural affinity for healing, but even this was faster than she'd expected. She dabbed a little ointment on his injured fingers, if only to ease the pain and prevent infection. There was something that was niggling at her brain, but she wasn't quite sure how to bring it up without causing him pain. "Why do you think it was different this time?" she asked as she tended to his fingers.

"I didn't used to heal this fast," he commented, trying not to wince as she dabbed ointment onto the fingers in need of the most help. "When I was younger, it could take days for me to heal. Perhaps my body's learned to heal faster because I'm always stuck in human form?" He shrugged, watching her work with interest. "This time ....I couldn't say for sure," he admitted, glancing up at her. "But it may be that it was different purely because of the connection between us. A mating isn't like a human fling. It goes deeper. And clearly the wolf has accepted you as mate, too, or I doubt I would have been allowed even a glimpse of what was happening."

"Tigers don't mate the way wolves do," she pointed out, though she was part wolf herself, not to mention her human form. "My mother was a tiger and my father was a wolf. They mated in their human forms," she told him, though she'd explained this to some extent once before. "It shouldn't have worked, really - a tiger and a wolf mating. The species are incompatible. Some might even say they're enemies, but somehow my mother became pregnant. Abomination, that's what I would have been, what I still am to some. But my mother understood the danger, and she sought help. She underwent a procedure that somehow fused her DNA with my father's before I was born. I'm not sure how it was done, but I'm a little of both."

"You're not an abomination," he told her firmly. "To have been conceived at all ....you're a miracle." To his credit, though, he didn't speak again until she was done, curious and fascinated by the circumstances that had brought her into being. "I ....don't know what DNA is, but it sounds as though your mother is a very special woman," he said gently. "I wish I could thank her."

"Yes, well ....she died a long time ago. They both did. At least, the mother and father I knew. It's complicated," she said with another sigh. Complicated and wearying to explain to someone who understood so little of this world. Finished tending to his fingers, she set the medkit aside and pressed the palm of her hand against his. "When my mother's people choose a mate, it's for life," she told him. Even if it wasn't the way with tigers, it seemed it was the way with her ancestors.

He pressed his palm to hers, his eyes slowly tracking from their joined hands to her own gaze with a gentle smile. "So do mine," he told her softly. "When I say I love you, Marissa, it's for life. Try not to be so afraid. No matter what happens, I'm yours."

Emrys

Date: 2016-04-02 18:27 EST
"I'm not afraid," she assured him. "Not when it comes to you." She linked her fingers with his, meeting his gaze as she slowly leaned closer. "I have never loved anyone the way I love you, Emrys," she told him, a ghost of a whisper against his lips.

Utterly in her thrall, Emrys leaned into her, only too eager to share another of those intoxicating kisses ....and abruptly yawned, rolling his eyes as he drew back. "I am so sorry," he tried to apologize through the yawn, waving one hand around as though he could make the gesture end more quickly that way.

She blinked at his yawn, just as she'd been about to kiss him, wondering if she was just that undesirable, but then she couldn't really blame him considering everything he'd been through. Instead, she touched a kiss to his cheek before easing away. "Go to sleep, Emrys. Everything else can wait until tomorrow."

With the yawn over, he caught her to give her the kiss his tired body had tried to deny them. "I promise, I will be fine come the morning," he told her confidently, wrapping the blanket about himself as he considered the logistics of getting from the chair to his pelt without flashing everything he had at her.

If that was his only concern, he needed worry so much about it. She'd already seen mostly everything he had to offer already before she'd tossed the blanket over him in the first place. Shy though he might be, he needn't have worried. What she did see of him only enticed her desire for him further, and what she didn't she was eager to explore. But not tonight, not until they could enjoy each other without worry of causing the other pain. "Good-night, wolfman," she said, gathering up her medkit and the half-empty mug and leaving him to settle himself in with at least a small modicum of privacy.

"Good-night, kitten," he called after her. A moment later, there was a loud thump - apparently, rather than keep even an ounce of dignity, Emrys had decided to throw himself onto the pelt from where he was sitting, wriggling to hide himself under the blanket in the warmth from the fire.

She waited a while, tidying up the cottage while he slept, with a furtive glance to the sleeping form by the fire every so often. He was something of an enigma to the werecat, and she couldn't help but wonder if this was the way her mother had felt about her father. The only real difference was that wolves' blood flowed in her own veins, though she'd long ignored it and denied, preferring the pull of the cat. While everything inside her was screaming a warning against letting him into her heart, like she had told him earlier that night, it was already too late.

By the time she surrendered herself to sleep, the moon had already disappeared in the night sky. When he awoke in the morning, he would find he wasn't the only one who'd curled up on the pelt near the fire, for she was there with him, arms wrapped around him in a protective embrace. No matter what her instincts told her or her ancestors warned, she wasn't letting go of this broken man-wolf anytime soon.