BLACK

(24) Fear

EDITED

-Oren-

I needed to leave her. She needed to sleep, she needed to eat, and she needed to breathe without anxiously gasping in my presence.

Black slept ever since the operation, abandoning me in this world of nothingness. He would blink his eyes open once or twice when he got a bad feeling to make sure our mate was still there. He hadn't been chasing her again, or manipulating her to do what he wanted. It was a frightening shock when she had approached us first, running her fingers through the lack of Black's fur. I've learned from Black he has two tipping points – anger, and pleasure. Both can be disrupted by Noire. It was a funny feeling, despite the constant nagging of darkness. It was different this time. He was calm, calmer than when he had no worries or stress. Just the simple proximity of her had done that, but it had also jerked him into his place of jealousy. He tried to cut me out, to keep me from feeling the care she radiated, but I fought back. Just because he was still in a semi sedated sleep didn't mean he was trustworthy around her.

I forced him outside to take a leak, considering he could never fit in the cabins bathroom, and to stretch his muscles before we became completely useless. Black froze immediately as he swung the door shut, however. His suspicions were confirmed that his unease wasn't cause by his madness.

His eyes spotted them first, in the distance. Two grey shifters in their war forms were up ahead, no more than a hundred yards, and waiting. They didn't stop there. The rusty colour of one's tail didn't escape Black as he saw him slink away into bushes of the upcoming forest. Rogues were feral beasts, uncultured and insane. Black knew he wouldn't have the best of luck with them while on Uncharted.

Black dropped to all fours, pacing back and forth before the cabin door, limping with his casted foot brought up. Waves of his worry stung me, electrifying me to the point I was almost pure emotion inside of him. Protect mate, he chanted inside of his head, casting glances between the door and the rogues. They waited for him patiently. They were here to fight, it was obvious. Otherwise they would have hidden themselves better, but they were in plain sight with their menacing gazes cast upon us. Black wouldn't win. He thought he would win, he had the confidence, but he wouldn't. He was injured, he was weak, and he was conflicted with leaving Noire. Black was all about proving himself, and if he thought we could do it, he would at least try. Or, die trying.

He advanced slowly, his heartbeat slow, but his mantra a mile a minute. He wouldn't let the rotten beasts get any closer to his mate than they were already. His eyes never left them once. His head sunk low beneath his shoulder blades, challenging them. Black wasn't one to make peace right away. He wanted them gone. Feeling threatened wasn't something he quite enjoyed.

None of the rogues moved, surprisingly, even as Black made his excruciating slow and painful steps into the middle of their demise. They were ugly, and ridden with stench, but somehow they still appeared more beautiful than Black. Their coats were full, give or take where it wouldn't grow over scar tissue. Their ears were level, never damaged badly. Their legs worked, all four. And their eyes, all were soft, coffee brown. They weren't here for Noire, Black realized, and they weren't here to fight. They waited for him, but they didn't attack him, and they didn't run. This provoked Black, his anger inflamed. He snarled loudly, snapping his teeth in their faces, and yet they still didn't cower or run. They held his gaze, even with all of his fury. Confused, Black glanced back to the cabin, where all was silent except for the heartbeat of his mate's, and turned to stare at the rogues again.

He huffed darkly, throwing his shoulders into gear and hobbled himself another step forward. The rogues parted, giving him a clear path into the forest. Black took it, ears glued to the back of his head with all his concentration focused on them ambushing him from behind. The further Black walked, the more anger that blanketed him. Every time I tried to talk to him, it scalded me like a burn.