Silverblood

Red Claw

The rumble of the engine kept me company as I watched the landscape change outside of the window. Forests covered by thick fog left the place to gentle green hills, then to congested highways and to green hills and forests again.
The journey to the Red Claw pack was long - seven hours long - but fortunately we were in the second half of it with only two more hours to go before reaching our destination in Idaho.

I turned my eyes off the window and focused on the man sat in front of me. Robert's head was bent backwards, resting on the headrest; by the reflection on the rear-view mirror I could see that he was fast asleep with his mouth slightly hanging open. I fought my willpower to let my gaze remain fixed ahead of me and not to search for the male next to the doctor, but it was a lost cause. My eyes were drawn to Hercules like a moth to a flame.
He was driving, a hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gearshift. He had driven all the way from Seattle, always refusing any offers coming from me and Robert to take over.
He was focused on the road ahead, but sometimes his eyes would search for mine in the rear-view mirror. Every time I would cast my eyes away.

There was tension between us and not the sexual kind. It was awkwardness.

Ever since the H-Day - yes, I nominated it that way - things had been strange between us. At least even stranger than before. For once I didn't know what to do. Or how to feel. I was out of my comfort zone and I was damn confused. That morning, I had woken up alone in my bed. The sheets had been cold and empty, no proves of his previous presence if not only for his faint scent still permeating the air. I had been confused and disoriented, trying to recall what had happened the night before. Then, I had found a note. If I closed my eyes now, I still could see his neat handwriting and recall the words. Yes, I had stared at it so long that I had memorized its content. Pathetic I know.

Lara,
I would have loved more than anything to stay, but I forced myself to get up and go away. It's best for both of us. I know you wouldn't have reacted well if I stayed the night, so I'm giving you space. Return to the pack when you feel comfortable enough.
H.T.
Ps: there is coffee in the pot. Hope you don't mind.

I had been torn about how to feel about it. Honestly, I still was.

Part of me was grate for his sagacity because I knew I would have reacted badly had I found him with me in the morning, but the other part of me couldn't help but being dejected that he left me. We had kissed. We had been intimate, even if we didn't go till the end. And this awareness brought another flow of thoughts to my mind. He didn't take advantage of me. He could have and he didn't. I was pleading him to fuck me and he restrained himself, knowing it wasn't completely me who was begging him. He helped me go through the night without being too intrusive, he gave me what I needed without breaking too many boundaries and without asking anything in return. And I couldn't help myself from respecting him a little more for that.

Fuck, I was starting to respect him. Just because he hadn't fucked me. The irony.

His eyes found mine in the mirror. I had seen his eyes countless times before, but every time their shade of blue would hit me hard in my gut. So deep, so beautiful, so expressive. I had seen lust in those eyes, I knew how they would darken and how those golden specks would shine like they had a life of their own. I couldn't forget the look in his eyes that night. I feared it was impressed in my mind forever. Before I could avert my gaze, he spoke.