Wolfish Affection (UNDERGOING HUGE AMOUNTS OF EDITING)

Wolfish Affection: Chapters 23-24

Twenty-Three – Frances

After Taylor promised he’d still be there when I woke up, I fell into a fitful sleep. I was plagued by nightmares.

I was running through the woods, towards the pack clearing, leaves crunching under my feet. The clearing was now in sight.

In the clearing, there was a fight going on between two wolves: a black wolf and a silver wolf. The black wolf was limping and poorly defending himself. Suddenly, the silver wolf had pinned the black wolf and was going in for the kill.

I looked away, but I saw the bodies of my pack: Jack, Toby, Ali. Now there was an addition to the bodies: Taylor. My wolf was dead.

I sat up sharply, breathing heavily. My body was coated in a fine layer of sweat and I was boiling, but I was shivering. Beside me, Taylor was softly snoring. He rolled over, reaching out an arm as if to put it over my body. His arm flopped onto an empty space. He slowly blinked his eyes open and sat up next to me.

“What’s going on?” He slurred.

“Bad dream,” I answered, staring at the wall. “Go back to sleep.”

“Not until you do,” He argued.

“Taylor, what’s it going to take to make you go back to sleep?” I sighed.

He smiled a cunning half smile and leaned towards me, kissing me lightly.

“That,” He whispered against my lips. His arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me down next to him.

I curled up in his arms, wrapping my legs in his. Lightly kissing his jaw, I rested my head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent of pines, damp earth and cinnamon. I pulled myself closer to him, matching my heartbeat to his. I felt his hand resting on my hip and I was certain that he was making sure I was still breathing.

“I’m not going to die in my sleep, y’know,” I mumbled.

“Whatever,” Taylor whispered, kissing the top of my head. “Humour me.”

I felt my eyes grow heavy and before I knew it, I was asleep in Taylor’s arms.

Twenty-Four – Taylor

I wasn’t woken up by a screaming alarm clock. I was woken up by a screaming Fran. She was as white as chalk and she thrashed around before shocking herself awake. I instantly gathered her in my arms.

“Another nightmare?” I asked softly.

“It was horrible. I dreamt that Nick had killed everyone but me and you. Then he killed you,” She whispered, her voice trembling. “That was the first dream. This time it was me. He was killing me.”

Seeing her like this, as fragile as a butterfly, I was scared that if I held her too tight, I would shatter her into a million pieces. She pulled away from me and got out of bed, pushing back the duvet.

She walked over to her desk and picked up a remote, pressing a button. The blinds over her skylights slid up, filling the room with pale, watery sunlight. As the light hit her, three shiny scars were illuminated. Two on her collarbone crossed over, forming a jagged X. The third was on the side of her neck and curved onto the top of her shoulder. Looking at them, I felt sick, knowing I had put them there.

“How are your heightened senses this morning?” I asked, trying to hide my sickness.

“Amazing, actually. The sun’s warmer than you’d think and a lot brighter than you’d expect,” She said happily.

She picked up a jumper and pulled it over her head. Picking out my jumper from the piles of clothes scattered on the floor, she threw it at me. I didn’t bother to catch it and let it fly into my face. She giggled as she heard it hit my face.

“Thought you said it was warm!” I teased, throwing it back to her.

“Warmer than you’d think,” She corrected gently. “But that doesn’t mean it won’t be cold downstairs.”

She threw the jumper back to me and I reluctantly pulled it on.

We went downstairs and walked into the empty kitchen. I was surprised that no-one was awake at nine o’clock on a Saturday morning, especially with Fran’s screaming.

“Coffee or tea?” She asked, pulling mugs out of a cupboard.

“Uh… Coffee,” I answered, scratching the back of my head.

Moments later, Fran placed a steaming of coffee in front of me. She sat down opposite me and sipped her own coffee. She didn’t say anything, but reached out and twined her fingers in mine.

“I love you,” I whispered, tightening my grip around her fingers.

“I love you too,” She whispered back.

I knew that it was moments like that were the ones that really mattered.