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Night had already fallen over Cradle, but this was just the beginning for one young couple that was still awake.
Alice was in the Black Army kitchen brewing a pot of peppermint tea with her back to the doorway.
“Dammit!” A familiar and usually cheerful voice bellowed from behind her as Fenrir hastily entered the room. His sharp tone had made her jump and she jarred her hipbone against the countertop. Even angry the air seemed to change to his presence.
He was always so happy-go-lucky and bright with energy, but not now. He knew.
She slowly turned to meet his gaze just as he came to an abrupt stop in front of her, hands on his hips as he glared down at her.
“When exactly were you going to tell me? When our eyes lock on the battlefield during our strategy meeting?” His magenta eyes were unusually dull and his voice laced with pain and a hint of something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on. He was waiting.
Wetting her dry lips she couldn’t meet his heated gaze as the words began to tumble out, “I knew you’d never allow it-”
“You’re damn right!” Fenrir’s fist crashed down on the countertop beside her, causing her to jump once more. She wasn’t afraid though. And it was then she realized how close he had moved; she could feel his entire body trembling against her as she absorbed his body heat. She was trapped and her heart was racing out of her chest as wisps of fantasies passed through her mind.
“How do you think it makes me feel to even imagine you in a warzone, let alone beside me?”
“Fenrir,” his name came out strangled and that’s when it hit her: desperation. He was scared. “I’m going to be alright, but I have to go. I made a promise to everyone in the Black Army that I would put my magic to use at their disposal. I may not be a newcomer now, but I still am grateful for everything.”
His expression was unreadable as he leaned forward until his face was buried in her hair and she was forced to press her face into his chest in a possessive embrace. He was deeply inhaling her scent until it was branded into his memory; she smelled like coconut oil and lavender. He’d do anything to keep that smell from becoming tainted by blood and gunpowder.
With a sharp breath, Fenrir withdrew from her and looked down at her with a more tender expression. Holding her in his arms had helped him calm down after Sirius and Ray had broken the news to him. She was here. She was real. “You know I love you.” He didn’t question his place in her heart, but his hand was still shaking as he slid it up her neck, his fingertips grazing over her pulse until he came to rest just under her chin. “Please do me this and stay here,” he tipped her chin up to gaze fully into his eyes, that familiar fire reigniting as he brightened up.
His voice was honey in her ears, but she would now back down and she felt her head shaking sadly in his touch, despite what his innocent caresses were doing to her. “I’m sorry, but no,” she kept her smile sweet, hoping to sway him over with her charm.
Alice reached up and took both of Fenrir’s cheeks in her hands and looked deeply into his eyes, allowing herself to get lost in him. “Everything will be fine as long as we’re together. Just… trust me.” He always said they made the best team and they were unbeatable, but this was extremely different.
“I won’t lose you too,” his smile was bittersweet as he dragged the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. He couldn’t allow her to become one of *them,* he shivered at the mere thought. “War is not… romantic or poetic,” his voice wavered slightly, but he continued, “ you might not physically d-” He couldn’t finish that sentence.
“I won’t,” she pressed.
“Listen,” he whispered. “You might change up here.” He ran his fingers along her hairline, across her scalp as if trying to memorize every single hair. “I can’t… let you turn into a ghost, Alice.”
That’s what this was about.
Fenrir…
Her heart broke for him as she quickly pressed her lips to his, catching him by surprise.
Fenrir groaned softly and pulled her tighter against him as he licked at her bottom lip, begging her to allow him entry. She nipped playfully at his lips and finally parted for him, her tongue immediately twining with his in their favorite dance.
When they broke apart they were both gasping, their weight leaning against each other in defeat and need, a very heady combination.
“You’re right,” Fenrir finally gasped, his hand stroking her cheek now, but he was finally looking more like his usual self, “we’re going to win. Even if it’s just because I’m so in love with you, and I’m too stubborn to lose.” He winked and leaned down to kiss her forehead softly. “Let’s continue this in my room.”