[m] - blackbird singing in the dead of night

Alaine Winters · 12-23-2010, 04:37 AM

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table © Mel
wc: 200+

His cheek was warm against her palm, but the heat was incomparable to that of amber eyes, searing coals in the darkness. Her own, acid green, lay livid in attention to the male's face. The shadow King's walls were crumbling, and yet, with that seemed to come essence of resolve. Strength. She listened to the rustic voice, the small tone of guilt, and heard more than his words; thought of this unknown but kindred woman who's life had shattered with the same brutal force of her own.

"Our minds will never forgive," And again came the blue eyes of her pursuers - One he had saved her from, one he had not - to the tarnished folds of her mind. No, she would never forgive. Pupils widened, sucking in the stray moonlight, and followed the path of her hand as it trailed down the hard line of his jaw, his throat, to rest upon his chest. "But with time..." Accented tone was a whisper, and she felt strangely nervous, distinctly aware of the heat of his body, the hard muscles beneath her palm, "... With time, our bodies forget. Our hearts forget." A slight frown darkened elegant features, her gaze returning to his holy amber.

The pulse stood out against her creamy throat, and she felt each sweet rush of blood as if it were the last. "You are only one," Her voice was husky, cracked and craven, "How can you hope to win against our world?" She wanted his touch, wanted his assurance. Something inside her was broken, and he knew how to fix it.

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