[m] the lovely scarecrow

Talitha de le Poer · 06-06-2011, 01:24 AM

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Sexay Talitha?

It was such a sad, pathetic sight. Her handsome Romeo, the man who had kept her interest for so long despite their limited contact, had been reduced to a lump of loneliness. For a moment, she suffered guilt on his behalf — it was she, fiery temptress, who created the mindless giant. She who had not catered to his social needs, she who had used him for his body and cast him away for weeks on end, had crafted a madman in his own right. As he rose from his place, towering above his coyote princess, she merely watched. It never failed to surprise the de le Poer that this Winters male was so large; his mother was nothing frightful to see, but the whore's son was magnificent. Even in comparison to the men of her world, to strong Gabriel and swift Ezekiel, Caillen was a behemoth. In truth, it was tantalizing — he had all the power to harm her, but she remained the controlling force.

He spoke her name, rusted voice clearly having not been used for some time, and it brought a smile to the lips of his secret lover. Crimson eyes avoided his art; she did not wish to see what was so plain before her, for her hateful ways would not allow it. They would, however, allow his touch. As a large hand reached for her, she moved ever closer, prepared to embrace the man for the first time in so long. Certainly allowing a touch could do no harm, perhaps even gentle caresses of the ruddy fur she gained from her mother — she was harmless. "You stayed away." This time, as she spoke, there was no playful flirtation; there was only painful ice, cold words that echoed the disappointment she felt. She couldn't mean so little that the handsome wolfdog had forgotten her, could she? Oh, of course not, for the love she siphoned from him had drained his ability to leave her. Though she could not fathom the concept, Talitha had proven to be a commanding force in many a life of a man, going so far as to keep her own brother on his toes for so long as he sought the daughter of sundown in the wilderness of Nova Scotia.

Feminine fingers found the plush fur of his chest as she allowed the delicate hands to find their way about his shoulders; though it was a reach, she was content in allowing her slighter form to rest against the hulking mass that made up Caillen Winters, turning on siren charm for the benefit of her lost friend.

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