Craving
Serafine POV
Moving back to the bed, I drop down, my legs don’t want to hold me up anymore. I’m shaking, and everything aches. It’s not an ache that I’m used to. This is something deeper, hotter, almost like it’s in my blood, in my marrow.
Dragging the nightgown off, I crawl beneath the covers in just my underwear. All I can do is hope that the sheets will calm my skin that feels too tight for my body. It doesn’t, it doesn’t help at all. My hands tremble, and I curl them into fists.
I’m not going to cry, I won’t cry, but I am scared of this.
All I want is to sleep, then wake up and be fine. I know, though, that this is not something that I am able to simply sleep off. This is my wolf, something in her instincts, in her needs. Pain shoots through me, and I curl up, almost crying. Is this from still not having a mate? Everyone finds their mate at around eighteen, and I didn’t. Is this my punishment for it?
Maybe this is just my wolf getting her revenge after being silenced under the medication for years? Now she is back with vengeance and wants to make me feel everything. No, that can’t be it. The medication is what everyone does until they are married, so it can’t be caused by that.
Time seems to drip by in uneven pieces. Has it been minutes? Hours? I don’t even know right now. I can’t focus on anything. At some point, I doze off, sleep dragging me under. Only it’s not a break. It’s not rest.
The dreams are vivid, loud and screaming at me. Every shift of my body, I can feel the brush of fabric against my skin in my sleep, and it’s begging for more.
When I wake, I’m drenched in sweat and panting like I’ve been running for miles. My skin burns, and my throat is entirely dry. Biting down on a moan, I press my face into the pillow, just in case someone hears me.
Where is he?
I don’t know where the thought comes from, me or her. It rattles through my chest like thunder, and I curl up tighter, my nails digging into my palms. The heat pulses inside of me, and I’m sure this is punishment for me not trying to find my
mate.
In my defence, I was locked up, I had no way to sense and follow my mate, I had no way to let her free to find him herself. The heat inside of me pulses harder and hotter, I’m not sure what I’ve to do anymore. I need to move, I need air. Grabbing the silk nightgown, I put it on before unlocking the door, but I stop and move, sliding open the window.
I need air, I need
to
get out, I need something. It’s late now, dark, so surely it’s colder outside? I drop down from the window, and the cold floor it a relief for mere seconds, then it doesn’t help anymore.
The moment I’m out, the rush of cold air that sweeps over my skin brings only a brief moment of relief. The heat inside me surges forward again, consuming everything in my body. It’s more vicious now than it was before.
I keep close to the side of the building as I begin to move, slipping through the shadows. I try to avoid any light so no one sees me, I also try to avoid the sounds around me as that might alert people to the fact I’m out here. My bare feet make no noise as I rush along the stone path, and once I reach the edge of the trees, I don’t wait. I disappear into them, trying to use them as cover.
There’s such a strong smell coming from me, and I don’t want anyone to be near me. It’s repulsive, and only seems to be getting worse the longer this lasts. I don’t stop though, even as branches claw at my arms, the cool underbrush pressing against my skin. None of it cuts through the burning sensation that’s threading deeper into my every nerve. My body feels like it’s unravelling, like something inside of me is clawing it’s way out. It’s like it’s demanding more than I know how to give. My wolf is pacing and snarling now, not with anger, but hunger. It’s a hunger that frightens me, a craving that is so raw and constant it feels like it’s fused in my bones.
I don’t know how far I’ve gone, only that the trees begin to thicken and the world around me narrows down, and the only sound is my own breath and the wild pulsing of my heart. Staggering forward, I press my hand against a trunk to steady myself. My chest is still rising and falling too fast. Sweat drips from the back of my neck, and I feel it rolling down my spine. My skin is more flushed now, and overly sensitive. Every brush of the fabric, or even the wind against my nightgown, feels like an invitation, like a promise that something, somewhere will bring me relief, but I know it won’t.
A scent hits me hard, sharp, rich and powerful, it outdoes my own scent, and it tears through me like lightning. It renders every other thought useless, and I stop moving. I’m frozen in place by the smell as it fills my lungs and spreads like wildfire. It’s not food, or even anything I’ve known before. I do know though that I want it and need it.
The smell makes me worse, though, my wolf is Successfully unlocked!ace my legs to move despite them being weak, trying to follow the scent. It’s like it’s everywhere, though. I turn owly, my vision flickering at the edge by how intense everything is. The scent grows stronger, and the pull becomes something I can’t ignore. It’s so primal, and so fierce, I almost fall to my knees, I don’t though, as when I look up, I see him.
Xander.
1/2
Craving
He steps into view, his eyes focused on me, it’s like he’s always been here, tall and unyielding, his body is framed by the faint glow of the moonlight that breaks through the canopy of trees.
The air between us crackles with something I can’t define, and my breath catches in my throat, my legs shake, and almost give out.
For a moment, he says nothing, his gaze just sweeps over me, and the intensity in his eyes makes my stomach twist. There‘ s tension in his shoulders, and the sharpness in his jaw tells me he’s angry at me for leaving my room and running off. I can‘ t focus on that, though, because that scent, the one I was craving, is him.
Something inside of me snaps into place, it blooms like fire beneath the surface, aching and relentless. My wolf howls inside of me, clawing against my ribs, desperate to reach him. My hand grips the tree harder, trying to stay upright.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” he says, his voice is low and rough. I knew he would be angry at me. His voice pulls at me, though, in a way that makes the ache far worse. It’s like my body is answering before I even think. I don’t respond. I don’t know how to explain this, or what to say. I also don’t trust my voice, not with the way it’s trembling in my throat.
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