Honeyed Pasture Abandoned but not forgotten

Her head had tilted now. Ribbons of honey raced from the slender curve of her cheek to the shoulder, bathed now in lavender twilight. He lost himself in the amber grace of Feyre's presence; lost himself in her voice — painful though it was to hear in such a broken tone. He wanted to kill whatever had hurt her and, yet, he had become the paradox. 

She repeated everything he had already heard before: things the world told him with every shift of his paws, whistle of the sand, and rush of the sea. Embry could only listen now and wonder how many times before he had awaited this moment. And no matter what she said, he would never take offense. Never. Because he knew, in the back of his mind, that he deserved it. And it showed in those oceanic pools; in the slight squaring of his shoulders; the pendulous sway of his caramel-pleated tail. 

A familiar heat encopsed his body, too, as he stood there, peering through the gathering darkness. He became increasingly aware of the adrenaline rushing through his veins and the friction that welled within his abdomen like a knot. His breathing had considerably softened, even when Feyre's voice rose; even when it made him shudder all the more and clench his jaw.

A long silence followed in which he only searched her gaze. When he spoke, his voice was as cool as ice — not so much in anger towards her so much as it was towards his own inability to explain everything. "What I did that night was a mistake, Feyre, and I have paid for it everyday since," he dropped his gaze. Shook his head again with a muffled sigh. "But I never just ran away."

"I thought of you every night. My heart has been with you in everything... It never mattered to me that you were necessarily "committed". I hate putting it that way. Like you can label love..," he had to shut his eyes now. To see her, even in his peripherals, was enough to make his body tremor; the heat within his chest jumping like sparked flames.