30 - Bruise Blue

So hmm. Work, health, all that. Halfway mark, but I'm not stopping.

-

We're back in the car before I even know it. The wind gently blows away the ill feeling from both the queen and her mate. I have a feeling it's not brainwash, but that Grant really thinks humans are inferior to wolves. That as the lesser being we should submit. That as a human mate I should submit to Milo.

When the fever like state leaves and my mind isn't as clouded anymore, I turn to Milo. He's peacefully driving, the wind gently ruffles his short hair. His eyes are calm but there's tension in his jaw I can't explain. Milo's lips waver just enough for me to realize he's trying to hide a smile. I think I watch his features out of affection, not the weird ill attraction.

And I feel his thumb run over my knuckles. I almost break my neck when I look down to our intertwined hands. When did that happen? But his smile turns smug and I rip my hand from his, and knowing his strength, Milo allows it. I feel my cheeks heat and turn to the window instead.

He lets out a weird strangled noise and with my gaze on the horizon, I catch his heated stare in the outside rear-view mirror. Milo looks away when I frown, cheeks reddening. He got what he wanted. And even though I believe him to be more accommodating than others, I can't help but wonder if it was his intention when he brought me to Grant.

With a bitter taste of betrayal on my tongue I try to avoid his stare. Was his objective for me to listen to Grant ? Should I? My stomach churns when I remember the man's venomous words, full of hatred and hidden malicious intent. Despite it all, it's reassuring to find another human, even with painful looking looming bites on his throat and neck. I wonder if it's done out of love, possessiveness or dominance.

I freeze when I feel warmth take over my thigh, carefully look down to see Milo's hand has snaked atop my leg, close to my waist. But his palm is up, fingers gently spread for mine to slip in. It's inviting like a lullaby, but I use a hand to push his away anyway. I had enough of manipulation for today. Even f it's seduction, even if it's Milo, innocent and comforting.

« Did you know this would happen ? About Grant ? » I spit the words out with more venom than I intend but I shiver with disgust when I remember. And I can't shake off the feeling of betrayal, of distrust when we've come so far. I swallow with a painful throat when he doesn't answer immediately.

No when I look back at him, Milo has put back his right hand lazily over the wheel and his left rests over the open window. I can hear the light taping of his fingers over the metal of the car, see his focused gaze over the dirt road. I see his lips pinched together and my face scrunches with sorrow. His fingers leave the old metal to scratch at his brow, to wipe his mouth.

« Yes. » It's as simple as a hum, as light as a single truth. I jerk my had to the window, but this time not has a protest. My mouth fills with saliva and my eyes string with white hot anguish. I feel like jumping out of the car, my vision blurs but it's not the tears, it's grey fog that fills up my brain. I lean outside when the first sobs pushes past my lips. Two steps back.

Despite it all I feel grateful when Milo doesn't reach out. The car continues its path at the same speed and his hand doesn't to lay on my leg. I push a hand to my lips to silence the cries but I know he hears them anyway. I force myself to breathe in and out when a violent shake threatens to forcefully make me throw up.

Once again my heart is balanced on his palm and I don't understand why. He's become my lifeline yet he kills me every other day. My tongue swells with nausea and I close my eyes to try and settle my nerves. I breathe in through my nose and try to picture home but a first gag sip by my palm.

« Stop the car. » I manage to breathe in enough to mutter the words and Milo presses down on the brakes. I unbuckle my seatbelt before we slow down enough, reach for the handle before the car stops. When Milo pushes fully on the brakes, pebbles fly under the screeching tires. I hear some hit the metal, the windows, feel one hit my stretched out arm when I push the door open against the wind.

Soon enough I'm kneeling on the side of the road, hand supporting my weight on the dark bark of a tree. My head pulses each time a gag pushes past my lips, my ears rings with every retch and relief fills my constricted throat when bile pours out. My skull lightens with every bit of water that jumps out of my mouth. Yet my stomach continues to twist and flex with too much force.

It hasn't reached my nose, but my eyes stick together like glue with tears brought on by the acid burning my lungs, melting my tongue. Then I feel Milo's warm hand on my waist and the vomiting stops as his hand comes up, caressing my back until it lands, warm and scolding on my nape. I don't dare to look at him. The gags eventually stop, I'm left heaving, I don't know how long for and my knees feel cold and wet from the grass.

Milo rises and when his palm leaves my skin the heaves come back, but I focus. I try to breathe in and out, with full lungs. My stomach continues to flex uncontrollably, my ribs clenching down in my heart. I think I stop breathing until I feel Milo's hand, gently pushing my head back towards his standing body.

I breathe again and my eyes snap open when he pushes a cold bottle of water to my lips. I try to get free, push my lips together but his fingers wraps around my jaw, pry my mouth open. It's tantalizing, my body in shock between his scolding fingers and the freezing water. He releases my head and hands me what I assume is a shirt.

I can finally wipe my eyes, my sweating cheeks and cold lips. Behind the leftover tears I see the man that comes out once in a while, the one with an unimpressed stare and a relaxed jaw. He pushes a lax thumb against his dark eyebrow lazily and the only thing that betrayed his storming calm is the jump of his lashes, ever so lightly.

« Fine. » Yet I give in, not out of trust, or fear. I reach out for his arm, pry my trembling fingers into the rest of his elbow, push the weight of my trembling body onto him. I'm tired, my jar is too full, but it doesn't break thanks to him. No, the weight crushes me underneath. So I lean into him further. I'm exhausted.

I'm still coughing when the wolf extends his free hand to me, so I drop the bottle. It's a quiet demand, disguised as an invitation. And it feels like the sanctuary had started to digest me. I hadn't forgotten the strength or the claws, yet somehow hiding in his shadow, I thought I broke the curse. I decide to relinquish in it instead.

I take the large palm, think of white smooth pebbles when my skin grazes his. Milo forces my knees straight when he rises, His warm hand has snaked around my wrist, while the other push under my forearm, clasps my trembling elbow with comforting vines. My ears ring with quiet humming, a buzz like warmth that settles my nausea.

It should feel like winter all over again, but the trees' buds have started to bloom and I decide to take it as a sign. Even though he supports my weight, my head is too heavy to bear and I lean against him fully, maybe for the time. Even at my full height, Milo feels suddenly too tall, too broad and I lean in to rest my head on his shoulder.

I close my eyes and take in his fresh scent, feel his core against mine and though his hands are digging into my skin, it doesn't feel like bruise. Even as his warm breath covers my neck, Milo instead rests his head a top of mine. He pushes me further into him and it feels like a lullaby. So I let put me to sleep.

-

« I don't care for time, as long as you move with me. » My eyes snap open with urgency, not because Milo exudes pressure. No this time I'm plainly surprised. His voice is quiet, more like a promise to himself than to me. I breathe in when he does, turn my head to catch his. I want to believe in the sweet promise.

I want to believe that Milo will respect my pace as long as I try to make things work too. But it doesn't matter when I've decided that I feared the anticipation more than the end. I feel I should dig my own grave to lay and rest. So I do. I push my head back in his neck and we exhale. There's no heat when I fall asleep, no more numbing hum or gentle wind.

-

I wake up when the car comes to a stop on the gravel. I rub my stinging eyes with lazy hands, fingers warmer than usual. My neck feels stiff when I turn to see Milo open the passenger's door. I blink to jerk myself awake, scratch my throat with quiet groan. I see blue when I move to push my legs out, fingertips painted onto the skin of wrists.

Milo extends a hands with a blank expression, but this time instead of hope I see determination. I think he might be oblivious, too focused to see or to care. I count the inside of my teeth with my tongue, blink when the sun catches my face. The man is once again illuminated by the sun and maybe it doesn't matter.

---

I wonder why writing resilience, loss, was harder than I first imagined. I knew it was coming, Marshall giving in, but bringing down a character isn't easy. This is the last sad/angry/terrible chapter for now. The next few are going to be lighter, for better or worse.

Anyway I hope I managed to paint well Marsh's slow descent, it was important to take my time for this until now. I wanted the loss of spirit to be terrible, so for that I had to build it up. Writing this felt like crushing my own heart though. So let's not do it too much haha.

I wrote part of this chapter while listening to best behavior - mansionair, check it out if you want to.

I'll try to update more frequently. I'm working on a second story.

I hope you are all well, take care of yourself. Even if the pm are no longer available feel free to contact me in the comments, we'll find a way to chat.

As usual, much love.