Haven

18. Storms Eye

Birds chirping outside the window were the first thing to drag Norah from sleep and for a brief moment, she forgot where she was. She felt a hand on her waist and yesterday came rushing back in, bringing with it a sense of fear and peace, the emotions warring against each other.

Peace slowly won - it was difficult to feel afraid in Rylan's arms - and she tried to disengage herself so she could go to the bathroom. As soon as she started moving, Rylan's grip tightened and she felt his face bury into her shoulder.

"Where are you going?"

"Bathroom."

He let her go, rolling away and she crawled out, stumbling over to the door. The mess on the floor was dangerous with limited lighting and her OCD for a clean room started to kick in. It was quiet out in the passage, and she quickly went to the bathroom. Her hair was in a mad bird nest and no matter what she did, it wouldn't tame down. Splashing some water on her face, she went back to Rylan's room to get dressed.

Upon entering however, Rylan proceeded to drag her back onto the bed. "Let me go, I need to get dressed."

"Not yet," he murmured. "Too early."

"It's seven thirty, aren't you  late for work?"

He shook his head, the morning light sneaking through the curtains highlighting that his dark hair was just as messy as hers. "I took the day off so we can sort out your house."

"Is it all right for you to take so many days off?" she asked worriedly.

He grinned, kissing the tip of her nose. "It's not very often I ask for a day off and Aston wasn't going to say no."

"Is it Aston who runs the mill? I didn't know that."

Rylan made a noise of agreement. "Holden passed the job onto him a couple of years ago, decided it was time to slowly retire."

Norah bit her lip. "How old is Holden?"

Rylan's hand brushed her hair behind her ear. "How old do you think he is?"

She thought of his strong features, the grey hair and wrinkles which were more distinguishable when he spoke. "Maybe seventy something?"

Rylan chuckled. "He's ninety one."

"What?" She shot up. "Get out."

Rylan laughed, pulling her back down and rolling so he lay half on top of her. "It's true. Holden and Jenna had their kids late in life because they were involved in a few movements during the 1900's. Cassie is close to sixty herself. It's part of being a werewolf, we age slower than humans."

"How long do you live?" she squeaked.

"The oldest werewolf I've heard of was about one hundred and eighty, he was in the Sun Stone pack. You should ask Holden though, he probably knows others who are older."

"Holy crap," she whispered. Her mind was in overdrive thinking about the aging and how she would get older before him. It was a vain thought, and deep down she knew that it shouldn't matter, but being young, it was an automatic response she couldn't stop.

Rylan, sensing her way of thinking proceeded to distract her. His lips brushed against her own, her hand came up, touching his cheek. The stubble felt rough beneath her fingertips and she traced it along his jaw line, coming up to his hairline as he deepened the kiss. His body shifted, covering her own and his hand rested on her waist, lifting her into him so the space between them was minimal.

Her free hand wrapped around his chest, resting lightly on the middle of his back and her other moved further into his hair. Her body felt hot, a familiar ache settling in her core and she was surprised when Rylan moved back. "What's wrong?"