MARIEL

4~ Yes, I've Lost My Shit ~

Mariel opened his eyes. Naked, he lay on his stomach, his head facing the window across the room where he saw the light, blue dawn approaching. His hand throbbed and twinged with pain, quickly reminding him of the past night. However, he felt relaxed, calm, and happy.

Very happy.

"Esther."

Drawing in a breath, he rolled over. Instead of seeing Esther, he saw the indent on the other side of the bed where she had slept. His eyes scanned the bed. Blood covered the pillows and the sheets. Scanning himself, specks and lines of dried blood had coated several areas of his chest and arms. The room smelled like a combination of perfume and sex.

Rubbing his eyes, he sat up and leaned against the headboard. He was unsure of his next step. Nothing had been discussed. Mariel did not know where Esther's family was, and he did not want to exit the room to look in the face of Todd and his muzzle. He grinned at the thought. A bullet wouldn't stop him again, but Todd didn't know that and, frankly, he did not want to deal with the explanation.

He had taken the risk coming here in the first place. Pulling his car past the Caravan driveway, Mariel had seen that Esther's car (assuming she had the same one) had not been in the driveway, which made him wonder if she had gone out or if her Jeep was in the garage. He had been nervous, unsure, but something in his gut told him that she was alone... that he needed to see her.

No longer did he feel that they were not supposed to be together. If anything, he felt he could protect her now. If Fr. Paul had spoken the truth, it would certainly give him more reason to be with her, protect her, warn her.

She would still expect an explanation from him, and Mariel intended to give it. He simply needed a reasonable and believable way to do it. He knew Esther would need time to overcome her disbelief of his return. Mentioning the kill chip inside of her might have to wait and, if possible, Mariel hoped to find a way to save her and avoid telling her altogether.

He did not want to lie. Esther deserved that much. But, sometimes, ignorance was bliss.

Already, Mariel missed her. He wished she would come back in the room. As he waited, his eyes searched her room, saw the clothes scattered about the floor. It reminded him of the night before, and he played it through his mind, over and over again, remembering how her body felt, how she tasted, how she sounded. Smiling, he closed his eyes. Finally, he felt that he had been released from the guilt of loving her, of wanting to be with her, of looking at her.

Esther Caravan was, finally, his, and Mariel knew he would do anything to keep it that way. It was freeing to have a purpose, as complicated and frightening as it was, and also be with the woman he loved. It seemed too good to be true.

The door creaked and his eyelids fluttered open. Mariel's heart rate quickened and he smiled as Esther entered the room. She was wrapped in a white towel, and her hair, wet from the shower, hung over her bare shoulders. After closing the door, she turned and faced him.

His smile grew smaller. "Are... you alright?"

Esther's face was pale, and her eyelids and lashes hung over downcast eyes that were red. Droplets of water pearled on her eyelashes and, as she stood there in the towel, her body trembled a little.

"Esther? Tell me what's wrong?" He leaned forward, felt a twinge of pain on his hand, and winced.

Esther looked up, met his gaze, and let out a wavering breath. Then, a quick smile flickered across her lips. "You need a shower. You're all bloody." She glanced at the sheets. The smile was gone. "And I have to take care of these sheets before I go to the bookstore." Her voice was quiet and, still not moving, she brought her eyes back to his. "How did you sleep?"