Hideaway Strath Up north’s getting cold soon
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All Welcome 
@Simmik. Tagging @Nyra for reference of helping Donovan get Simmik out of the pit if that’s okay! ;>

Donovan had gotten Nyra to assist him in snatching Simmik out of the pit. It went smoothly enough and he urges Nyra away by mentioning he needs to patrol with Simmik alone for now. Upon her departure, he urges the pale woman to follow him all the way back to the borders of the Strath this time. 

As they walk her looks over to her. He’s almost hesitant to ask, but overall stops being a pussy and does it. 

“How’re your wounds?” Asks the Grandmaster. Expecting a sneer and a spitting answer, but maybe she’d surprise him today.
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She wasn't sure what had finally possessed him to pull her from her prison, but she was grateful. It was sad how relieved she was to be on his borders, walking with him, but anything was better than spending one more night in that pit with him sitting up at the top like it was just another day of guarding the captive. 

She hadn't said a word so far, just limped along beside him while she waited to see what he was up to. She didn't trust him at all, and part of her was afraid that he was just doing this to fuck with her and soon, he was going to toss her back in the pit and make her suffer that much more—give her a taste of freedom just to rip it away. 

She was so caught up in her anxious thoughts that his voice made her jump. She swallowed and tensed, angry that he had that effect on her. Then she glared up at him. You mean the wounds you gave me? she spat at him. I'm not going anywhere. You won; you don't have to pretend to give a shit about me, she said, defeat in her voice—it was a common feeling for her now. Her gaze fell to the ground in front of her as she continued to limp at his side.
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When his voice cuts through the soothing sounds of the forest, it seems to spook her. She startles, jumping slightly and she gives him the most textbook answer that he was expecting. To which he sighs to as his reply.

“I do care about you.” He says seriously. “More than you think, dear.” Then he’s looking ahead again. “I’m going to have Arlette look at them for you. So they don’t get infected.” He speaks out loud from his thoughts. Shifting his gaze to Simmik once more.

“Also, if you don’t want to be in the ravine you can just stay with me.” He looks forward again. “Except for when I sleep.” He adds quickly.
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Oh and I'm just supposed to take you at your word? she asked. You have a real shitty way of showing that you care, Kynareth, she said, stopping for a second. She didn't want him to see how much she hurt, but she needed a break. Do whatever you want. That's what you're good at, she said as she waited for the aching to stop. Maybe at least then she could have something for the pain. 

His comment on the ravine had her fixing him with her complete focus, ears up, gaze uncertain. And when he added that she couldn't stay with him at night, her eyes narrowed. So then where will I stay at night? And what if I'm not okay with that? Anyway she could make his life difficult, she would.
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“Yes.” Is all he says bad to her. A power in his voice to prove that he means it. The second part of her complaint is unheard to him. Well, he heard her, he just doesn’t respond to her cutting comments.

From his peripheral he sees her perk up, her beautiful ears cupping towards him. He wants to roll his eyes, but a borderline sweet smile appears on his maw. Until she realizes that she would eventually have to go back in. 

He turns to her then his smile turning into a light frown. “Well, I’d love for you to sleep with me in my den, but I can’t trust you not to run away.” He shifts his eyes to the path ahead. “I’m a heavy sleeper, dear.” He states matter-of-factly.
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Don't she said immediately to his attempt at throwing his weight around. I'm stuck here, and I have accepted that. But you are not my leader and you don't get to use your dominance against me. She was a leader too, before he had stolen her away from her pack, and she would not just follow him blindly. If he thought he could just push her around, he didn't really know her at all. 

She swallowed, clearly disturbed by what he was implying. Hurt flashed in her gaze and she lifted her chin defiantly. I'm not going back in that pit Kynareth, she told him. You can fuck yourself if you think you're putting me back in there. Behind the anger was the fear that he would do it anyway. How could he claim to care about her and then practically in the same breath, state that he was going to put her back in a desolate pit?
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He scoffs at her then, stopping in his tracks and practically gazes into her soul. “I’m not trying to use my dominance against you. You are my equal.” He argues passionately. His voice not exactly soft, but sweetly frustrated.

She’s tilting her chin up at him, practically sneering at him and telling him to go fuck himself. A lightening bolt of rage passes through him, it probably shows in his eyes. Besides that and his brows furrowing, no other physical signs of anger are present. 

Then as a flash of hurt shows itself in her gaze he softens. He closes his eyes and seems to deflate a little, muzzle drooping slightly towards the ground. “I don’t want to put you back in there, but I know that you’d take the opportunity to escape if I don’t. There’s no other way to keep you here while I’m sleeping.”
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Again, his words were confusing. She looked up at him with an exasperated look. Your words and your actions never match, she told him. You tell me you care about me and that I'm your equal, but then you kidnap me and keep me in a horrible pit all alone. Her jaw tightened, closing her mouth as her expression grew angry. You used something against me that you knew would hurt me more than anything. She looked away and started limping forward again. She had not been able to erase that moment from her mind no matter how hard she tried. She just kept seeing him explain the details of his horrible act to her, knowing how it would affect her—what memories of her own it would bring up in her mind. She didn't understand how someone who cared about her could do that.

She grew angry again at his reasoning, but she couldn't deny that he was correct. You're right, she said bitterly as she limped next to him, her gaze trained on the ground. I would leave if I had the chance because you fucking kidnapped me. I don't want to be here. None of this was right, and he was being an asshole as usual.
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He looks away from her as she speaks, he doesn’t want her to see his emotions show through. Though his face might be able to mask them fairly well, he’s never been able to do as well as his father was and mask them with his eyes as well. 

He’d have shame, regret, rage, sadness all swirling around in those golden orbs. He can’t hide it. Surely he looks like a pup being scolded by his mother. What does he usually do when he doesn’t want his emotions to show and he feels strongly about something? Be an asshole. It’s just easier that way. Yet, he can’t do right now. Or really he’s convincing himself to not be an asshole to Simmik right now.

So he bites his tongue and keeps his gaze averted. She could probably tell he’s resisting his more primal urges to scream and yell at her right now. 

“I don’t know what to tell you. It’s too late for me to take back what I did now. If you don’t believe that I care for you then so be it, but I do.” He says lowly and begins to walk again, extracting her to follow once more. “I could apologize a thousand times but you’d tell me to fuck off. I know I don’t deserve your mercy right now. I know what I did was wrong, but I did it. I can’t take it back, so I move forward.” 

He continues walking at a languid pace. “You learn to like it here, darling. Once you accept it, you’ll see that I’m willing to do anything for you.” He hums quietly, not daring to look back at her as he says it.
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One thing she has always been able to do well was read him, and she could plainly see the turmoil in his gaze. She knew he was torn over what he had done, and it tugged at her heart in a fucked up way. But if he regretted it, then why keep her here? But she knew that answer too: he kept her here to protect himself and his pack. There was no easy to fix any of this, and they both knew it. 

The tension in him was obvious, and she knew he was holding himself back, which was surprising. He hadn't held himself back the day they had fought in the weald. He had been a complete monster that day, and now when she was with him, she was always afraid that each feisty remark would be one too many, and she would see that side of him again. She paused and watched him warily for a few moments, eventually beginning to limp along behind him. 

He basically put into words the turmoil she had interpreted from the emotion swimming in his gaze before. None of it made her feel any better, though. All it did was solidify the knowledge that she was stuck here no matter what she did. And part of her was beginning to think maybe she had done something to deserve this. It was her mind trying to justify everything, she knew, but the thoughts tortured her all the same. 

His last words made her pause behind him, confusion clear on her face. Something dark and twisted awoke in her chest then—it liked the power those words gave her. She hadn't felt powerful in a very long time, and it pulled some very confusing feelings to the surface. She swallowed and stared at the back of him. You would do anything for me? she asked with hesitant interest. She waited for him to turn around. She was sinfully intrigued by the idea of having that kind of power over someone so much powerful than she was.
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He hates that she can see it, but he knows she can. The way she looks at him tells him so. Or the feeling he gets he supposes. He can feel her eyes searing holes in his flesh. It burns horribly. He does wonder what she’s thinking though. She stays quiet for a long while and he fully expects her to keep going at it. 

Surprisingly she doesn’t. All she does is confirm what he said himself, that he would do anything for her. The statement isn’t completely false, but he is definitely willing to stay mostly true. Within reason of course.

So once she says this he stops to look at her. Staying quiet for a few agonizing seconds, hawkish gold meets fiery orange.Yes.” He says genuinely. Though, he does want to add Within reason. after it, he doesn’t.
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She stared back at him, holding his gaze with fire and intrigue in her own. Of course, she knew there were limits to this promise; obviously, she couldn't ask to be let go, which was pretty fucked up. But for some reason, all she could focus on was how strong it made her feel. She had been chasing that feeling since the night she was attacked—had been desperate for it. Nothing had fixed the broken pieces inside her, though this didn't exactly fix them either. More like it started to put them back together in a similar but different way—a way that would change her irrevocably. But then, that process had already been started long ago; all this did was begin to finish it. 

She limped closer to stand in front of him, her eyes never leaving his. I don't want to go back in the pit, she told him again, this time her voice was calm and her gaze was stern. I won't try to leave as long as you keep your word and don't put me back in there. The thought of spending one more cold night there made her chest tighten and her throat go dry. She hated it there. She was desperate at this point, and he had said he would do anything for her; now was his chance to prove that he meant what he said.
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It seems his deep set pools of gold are of interest to her today. He can hardly handle her gaze right now, would rather go cower away and cry for a little bit. Something he doesn’t often get the chance to do. Though he hardly finds himself with the need to cry, he thinks it would be perfectly fine if he tried every once in a while. Especially when he thinks of the how he traumatized Simmik. Though his mind is too complicated, to jumbled and mixed up. There’s one half of him that cares deeply and the other is his more savage side, telling him not to give a rats ass.

Though as Simmik stares at him and limps forward, his tougher half seems to shrink and grow at the same time. Her voice is strong, giving Donovan no room for disagreements when she tell him that she won’t go back into the pit. His more logical side doesn’t believe her for one damn second that she won’t try and escape. Yet, one side of him wants to trust her; he knows he can’t. 

He sighs to her, his heavy life fluttering close due to weariness. “You know I don’t trust a word you’re saying, right?” He says before looking back down to her. Offering a second of pause to let his words sink into her thick skull. 

“I don’t trust that you won’t escape. Not one bit. But you are injured and if I do wake up and you’re gone, you won’t be able to get out of here fast enough to get too far.” His voice is soft and tired as he speaks. He sighs once more, surely she could see his hard exterior cracking. “I won’t put you back.” Are his next words, but his voice gets unexpectedly dangerous. “But don’t mistake my kindness for weakness, Simmik.” He says as a warning. He won’t hesitate to hunt her down like an injured elk if she tried to escape.
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She could see a struggle play out inside him—she didn't know the details of the struggle, but she could see the evidence in his gaze as he watched her close the distance between them. Their relationship had always been complicated, and that was before he had kidnapped her and then claimed to care about her, and before the awakening of something dark inside her.

She considered his silence and the struggle she had seen in his gaze to mean that he was at least considering her condition, but when he spoke, she wasn't so sure. He didn't trust that she wouldn't leave, and honestly she didn't either. But the thought of sleeping somewhere almost normal for the night might be enough to persuade her to stay. That and the fact that she couldn't get far very fast even if she tried. 

He put her very thoughts into words, stating that she wouldn't be able to get very far if she tried to escape while he was asleep. She could see a shift in him—the suspicion changing into something softer, something that reminded her of Donovan. And finally he agreed. Relief washed over her, one of the first positive feelings she had felt since being brought here. Even the barest hint of a smile curved one side of her mouth, and her eyes brightened for a few moments. Thank you, she whispered. She held his gaze, her own a swirl of complicated emotions. 

Then with his warning, the moment was gone. She was reminded of who he was and what he had done to her. Her expression hardened, and she lifted her chin. And don't mistake my capitulation for acceptance, she told him. She was simply making the best of an impossible situation, giving in some so that she wasn't so miserable. I'm still not okay with how you've treated me. She looked at him a second longer and then limped on, expecting he would be at her side within seconds.
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He truly enjoys too much the subtle expression of what could be perceived as love towards the brute. He wants so bad for Simmik to love him how she did, but knows the possibility of that never happening is there. Perhaps, with work it could be. He’s willing to work for it. 

The brightness of her fiery eyes are back for a second and a rare smile graces her beautiful features and he almost regrets his next words only because it causes that disappointment to appear back on her face. She used to look at him with such stunning emotion. It would cripple him back then. When the wound of his slaughtered pack was fresh and he could escape with her to a place of pleasantness. He misses it. Yet knows he won’t get it back anytime soon. For whereas she helped close his mental wounds, he seems to have opened hers up. He’s causing them to fester and linger with infection, perhaps even make them worse with what he’s done. He will try and right them, heal them, with the good graces of his pack and their own health in mind. Which makes everything so much harder. He fucked up.

So as he watches her face harden one more he dares to smile longingly at her back despite the venom in her words. “I won’t, darling.” He says softly referring to her first statement. Then as she continues he begins walking again with a sentimental smile on his face, not daring to look back at her. 

I’m still not okay with how you’ve treated me. She says and he nods quietly. “Then I’ll do better.” He says back softly as if he’s deep in thought. He is, too busy thinking of the pale woman’s smile and the flicker of hope he could have of her loving him once more. He’ll do better, he swears on it. As long as Simmik lets him of course.
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I won't, darling. 

There he went, calling her darling as if everything was back to normal. She wanted to roll her eyes at the word, but she didn't; the softness in his tone had her confused once more. She wanted things to be like they were before everything had changed and gotten difficult, and he when he spoke to her that way, it was easy to fool herself into thinking they could be that way. But then flashes of the night he had attacked her assaulted her mind—she couldn't forget the feeling of his teeth ripping into her flesh or how afraid she had been that he would force himself on her; he had used her trauma against her, and it was hard to move past that, no matter how much his softness pulled at her heart. 

Then I'll do better.

The words were soft again, and she wanted to believe him. For some reason, no matter what he had done to her, she wanted to believe him. She couldn't, though—not yet. She was still a captive here, and there was no way he would let her leave. She couldn't ignore the feeling that had risen in her chest with his admission that he would do anything for her. It was like something had tried to pull her from the miserable fog that had taken over her mind and body. As much as she wanted to be free, she also wanted to investigate that feeling—invite it into her heart and see what happened. She was tired of feeling weak, and something about it promised strength and freedom from her suffering. 

She looked over at him, her expression uncertain but her gaze alight with interest. I want to believe you, she finally told him. I really do, but I'm afraid you will use my trust to hurt me again. He had some kind of hold over her, and he had used that against her too many times. Why do you want to do better now? she asked. What was going on in his complicated mind? She could read him well, but she felt like she never fully knew what was going on inside his head.
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He knows she’s looking at him. He can feel her fiery eyes burning searing hot holes in his pelt. He loves it. Wants her gaze to set him aflame — never to burn out. He wants to be the center of her world and nothing but. He’s realizing this now. Especially now. She’s so strong and so promising. Yet, as of right now, so troubling, their relationship strained. He knows it will continue to strain as well. Only for now, perhaps in the future as well, but he has a feeling he could corrupt her beautifully. Soon enough, it wouldn’t be him holding the reins — it would be her. Ruling him with an iron fist that he will want so badly to obey. Hell, she could say Jump. and Kynareth Deagon of the Abbey, Grandmaster of the Saints, a vicious killer and murderer would say How High? with swift ease. She’d understand soon. He comforts himself confidently.

Yet, he continues onward towards the borders. He listens intently to her words, nodding his head slowly to let her know that he heard her. “I want that too.” He starts. “Simmik, I will try to be better, but I how I am is highly dependent on how you act as well.” His voice is soft, not wanting to fight, informative. “If you force me to be a monster, then I will be.” He says the words as a warning almost, even though his voice seems to be uttering it silkily. 

Onto the next question. Another of many he’s sure she will continue to ask. Why do you want to do better now? She asks. He shakes his head in what could be seen as disappointment. “I fucked up. I wanted you so bad.” He stops walking, still not looking at her. “I was blinded by rage when you turned me away for what I did, even though I understand why you did it now.” He turns to look at her now, a moment of dramatic bated breath. “I can only try and fix it, but I will not change. And I’m sorry for that.” He says somberly, soft gold usually filled with teasing hatred and chaos warm and filled with want.
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It seemed they were both conflicted in their own way—battling between two sides of themselves. His was the typical struggle between good and evil. He wished she could trust him but he implied he would only be nice to her if she did what he wanted her to do. That comment made defiance flicker across her face. She didn't like being backed into a corner, and she certainly didn't like being told what she could and couldn't do. She had made her own decisions since she was eight months old, and she wasn't about to start letting Kynareth make hers now. She would just have to find a different way to do things. If she went against him outright, he would only get angry, but she might be able to use his softness towards her to her advantage. She wondered how far she could push his promise that he would do anything for her?

She stopped walking when he did, and she stared at him with uncertainty in her gaze as he tried to explain why he did what he did. He wanted her, and she had told him to stay away. Even though he had understood her reasoning, he had still been so angry that he had kidnapped her. But he had also used her vulnerability against her, which would be harder for her to get past. She met his gaze and searched the golden depths. He wanted to fix things but he wouldn't change—the two statements were contradictory, and he seemed to realize that, his tone turning sad and his gaze holding a desire for things to be different. She wondered if she could bring that want closer to surface. 

She closed whatever distance was between them, her expression empathetic but still a little hesitant. There was a momentary flash in her mind of him over her, looking all of the monster he claimed to be, but she pushed it away. When she stood in front of him, she reached out and brushed her nose against neck. Fear settled in her chest, but she kept it hidden from him. Instead, when she lifted her gaze back to his, there was only determination and a softness reminiscent of the way she used to look at him. I'm willing to give you a chance, she told him. And I'm willing to try and see your side of things. She paused a second and watched his expression. But you will not use my trauma against me ever again. she demanded. I will never trust you if you can't promise me that. Of all the things he had done, that was the most damaging, and she wouldn't be able to work with him in any capacity if she was afraid he would try to manipulate her with the worst moment of her life.
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He hold so still, like a statue unable to move. Skin so hardened to stone that he is forever frozen in time awaiting her response. He sees her thinking, weighting pros and cons perhaps. It’s all he can think of. Maybe even thinking of ways to escape. Either – or, he has no way of telling.

Still when she closes in on him he feels relief. A chance — she’s giving him a chance. He almost want to fall over and cry he’s so happy. He hasn’t felt this way before. Of course he’s felt love — for Sasha exactly — but it wasn’t as strained as this. The Grandmaster’s and Simmik’s relationship was, and still is, full of hardships and angst. His relationship with Sasha was not nearly as complicated. It’s for that exact relief he knows that this love is much more rewarding. 

Unable to keep the uncharacteristic hopefulness from shining in his eyes he looks down to her. His tail even decides to wag, even though her words are just as much of a warning as they are a potential promise. Not to use her trauma against her. That’s doable. So, so, easily doable and he’s so helplessly grateful. 

He sighs and smiles, he couldn’t care if she insulted him to the highest extent at the moment. He knows he’s getting another chance — one more of too many. She is quite generous and Donovan has no idea way.

The touch to his neck and her words speak to him. He nods once along with his reply. “I promise, Simmik.” He hums almost too sweetly. He leans in and crashes their bodies together, he fervently rubs his head adoringly to her neck in a type of hug. “I won’t dare do such a thing.” He whispers into her pelt. Wrapping around her and then with drawling to lick desperately at her maw and face. The act so out of tune with his usual self it might even shock her.
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Her words markedly changed his demeanor, and surprise briefly lifted her brows. A smile spread across his face, his tail wagged, relief showed in his expression. She hadn't realized the effect she had on him. It was so confusing. Clearly she was important to him, or her acceptance of him was at the very least. So then how could he hurt her they way he had? It was not a question that could be answered right now, she knew; she tucked it away for later when she understood things better and when she had time to inspect all the ways she was feeling about him and her new reality. 

His swift movement startled her, and it showed in the way she tensed as his form draped over hers. The last time he had been than close, his teeth were in her neck. Not only that, but unsolicited touch had been an uncomfortable thing for her since she had been attacked. After a few moments, she relaxed into him, though. The comfort was nice, as strange as that was. After so many nights with no comfort at all, she realized she was desperate for it. His whispered words had her relaxing further. The words were so fervent, she could feel them settle in her chest. No matter what happened from here, she would feel better knowing that he would not cross that line again. Of course, a part of her was still unsure she could believe him, but that would fade as long he kept his promise. 

When he pulled pack and licked her face, she closed her eyes, surprised again at the unexpected affection. She gasped a little at first, before offering: Ky in playful admonishment. What has gotten into you all of the sudden? she asked softly. Did her agreeing to stay here and give him another chance really mean that much to him? It was so strange to see this side of him after the darker, colder version she had seen lately. She liked him better this way. He was more like Donovan now, and she knew she could persuade him to let her have more freedom if she kept him like this.
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He wants to scream when he feels her tense as he goes in for that physical touch he so desires. He wants to bash his head against a rock wall because he knows that part the reason as to why she tenses is due to him. The other half what had happened to her not too long back — something he took advantage of much too recently. He hates himself, he’ll continue to hate himself, yet he won’t change. How funny is that?

Yet, in this moment, he’s content as one like him can be. This is love. He thinks fleetingly. Not hate, or fear, or that horrid desire to kill. It’s something much more interesting blooming in his chest and spreading throughout his entire being. It buds room for softness though, something others and even Simmik can take advantage of. He’s not ready to be hurt again. Not like how Sasha hurt him. He’d go absolutely insane, killing anyone and anything in sight. 

He tries not to think of betrayal for once. It’s so hard, so ingrained in his brain. He tries to live in the now, enjoy the feel of Simmik pressed willing against him once more and the softness of her voice caressing his auds so beautifully — so sweetly, she’s suprised by his blatant display of affection and he has no other way to describe it when she asked what’s gotten him so giddy.

He pulls back to look at her, if allowed, his forehead almost resting against Simmik’s own. His eyes look longingly up to her and his dark ears press back softly. “I think I’m hopelessly in love, darling.” He says truthfully, raw emotion evident in his voice. “With you.” He ends passionately, confidence in every ounce of his being of what he feels with her. He’s smitten and it’s horribly obvious.
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#22
In love? He was in love with her? She was at a loss for words. She stared back at him with wide, surprised eyes. Did he even understand love? Did she? She did love him—it was something she had known for a while, but it was also very complicated, as with everything else between them. The emotion evident in his voice and in his gaze as she searched it with her own was real. He was exposing his vulnerability to her even though she had done nothing to prove she was really on his side. It caused a tightening in her stomach that she hadn't felt in a long time. Part of her wanted to use this knowledge to control him, and she might do that to some extent. But mostly, she felt like she needed to protect him from what this would mean for him. After everything, his fucked up hold over her was winning out. She was hopeless—one confession of love from him, and she suddenly felt the need to keep that soft side of him safe from others who would want to use it against him, even though she was still considering doing it herself. It caused a small tear in her heart to think of such a thing, but she thought it anyway. 

You love me? she repeated back, her voice soft and unsure. She closed her eyes and shook her head. Suddenly, a wave of despair washed over her, and her eyes grew warm with moisture. You shouldn't love me, she murmured. I am fucking broken, and I don't know how to put myself back together. She had been searching for a way, but she never felt any better. She was tired of feeling like half of herself. She was tired of being weak and at the mercy of something she couldn't control. If he loved her, then he loved a shell of what she had once been.
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#23
You love me? She says almost somberly it seems.

Yes, I do. Kynareth thinks instantly, resisting the fiery urge to say it back obsessively.

She’s so horribly unsure. Scared — is what he has no choice but to guess. As the tears well up in those captivating eyes of hers he feels heavily for her. His own fear raises within him — the slightest possibility that she doesn’t love him back. 

He watches her with obvious worry in his expression, trying to allow her to get her words out in her own time. He’s trying not to freak out. Not in a bad way, but he too, feels as if he’s about to cry. Lord, he hates crying.

So as her words strike him he looks at her incredulously. “Why not?” He asks seriously. “We can help each other, darling.” He looks down, bringing himself closer to her, pressing his cheek against her own. “I need it...” He whispers terribly. As if he is reflecting back on everything horrid he’s ever done. No doubt she’d be able to tell. “We can help each other.” He repeats again almost desperately.
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#24
She wanted to disagree with his promise that they could help each other. She had come to believe that there was no helping her. She would have to become some twisted version of herself. Similar but different because the pieces could never really fit back together the way they were before. But his next words—

I need it. 

The plea she could hear in those three words broke her heart even more. All the times she wished he would have said these exact words to her. His cheek was against hers and then he was repeating his first words—they were another plea. She didn't think she could resist anymore—she didn't want to resist anymore. His pleading had been the one thing to pull her completely into the quicksand that was Kynareth Deagon. She released a shuddering breath and pressed into him. I need it too, she whispered. I—I love you. The words were hushed and needy. She didn't realize how saying them would actually make her feel. Her stomach tightened again, and she pushed her face into the fur of his neck. She wanted to hide there and pretend nothing else existed—no complicated relationship, not saints, no neverwinter forest, no awful past to run from; it would all be so much easier without all of their baggage. But life didn't work that way, and at least with him, she could try and restore herself. If she couldn't be the same Simmik as before, she could at least be stronger and more resilient.
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#25
Kynareth takes in her shuddering breath, unsteady and wavering, but when she speaks it’s much different. The works she mutters back have his heart pounding and his gut twisting up unexpectedly. As if he’s falling from monstrous heights and his organs are in his throat. So many emotions at once he has no fucking clue how to process them. His mother nor father taught him shit about this stuff. He thought he was experienced in love with Sasha, or so he thought. This is a completely different feeling, one he can’t explain for the life of him. One he won’t be able to explain for the rest of his life until the day he dies bloody and broken from a battle well fought, but never won. 

He sighs into her fur, his eyes are wide as he presses against her. They become wet and he wills himself not to spill unneeded tears. It would only hurt himself in the long run. So he occupies himself by gently running the wetness of his nose along her cheek and then a black tongue to her lips and whiskers. Golden orbs finally finding peace behind his lids he closes them, resting against her. 

Fuck. I love you, darling.” He whispers against her softly. A smile beginning to form on his maw. He could get used to saying that, he didn’t want to be sappy around his pack though. Even though a part of him doesn’t give a fuck.

He pulls back then to look at her, able to contain the tears but not the glassiness the water leaves with his eyes. “If I ever act up just beat my ass into place, dear. I swear I’ll tuck my tail and fall for you any day.” He hums with a bit more humor in his voice then, his smile wining and brilliant — loving even. So, so different from the loads of sinister, taunting smirks that usually grace his features.