Stavanger Bay Smoking Embers

she'd expected anger. loud, shattering the air around them. 

she remained still where he relaxed, those frozen aquamarines careful as they marked each breath, every movement. 

but it did not come. 

there was no trick.

the wraith did not thaw -- not until he'd closed the space between them. 

not until she'd found herself settled against his chest in embrace -- both new and all too familiar.

it was only when the warmth of the umber he-wolf enveloped her, sinking into her bones with the crisp, cinnamon scent of him. 

the islander shuddered, something cracking in her chest like springmelt. the echo of glaciers splintering, ice fissuring. 

a ragged breath escaped her, a sob, and she burrowed even closer where she tucked into him. if she'd had arms, she'd have wound them around his neck -- would have clung to him. 

i'msosorrysosorrysosorrysorry.