Saving Nicole

Chapter 21: What really happened?

Nicole's POV
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Woah.

He's sitting next to me, one hand pressing against the base of my spine, the other cupping my cheek. I grunt from surprise.

My eyes are wide from shock but soon close like Dallas's. His lips are soft against mine, and sparks and tingles have flared all over me, creating a soft buzz that just makes me want more and wonder why we haven't kissed before this.

It feels good, and I find myself sighing in content and reflexively scooting closer. His hands pull me closer until he finally pulls away slightly.

The good feeling immediately dims and I find myself following him to kiss him again. I need that feeling. He chuckles against my lips in amusement, but doesn't hesitate to respond.

This is wrong. He's my best friend. But it feels so good, so right. I need more. But I know I should stop. Pulling away, I rest my forehead against his, panting quietly. My first and second kiss belong to him now.

My eyes open to look into swirling green pools, so much like looking into the forest or staring at a bright green ocean. And streaks of lightning disturbing the water; pale scars zigzagging through his eyes.

He grins, the smile reaching his eyes and crinkling their corners.

I feel like I'm being given more puzzle pieces; what for, I have no idea. But they slowly rearrange themselves. Agonizingly slow.

"Sorry." He says, not at all sincere. "I couldn't wait any longer." His accent makes his words sound beautiful to my ears.

"Good. Because I thought I might have just had to kiss you myself." I grin as he rolls his eyes. Despite my words, guilt seems to radiate off of him. What is he hiding?

"Nah. You're not brave enough." He teases me, wrinkling his nose with a grin.
I point at myself with a questioning look and he nods. "Yes, you." He leans back from laughter.

"Really, now? Not brave enough?" My hair falls over my shoulder with a tip of my head and I move closer to him, like a predator. Which is technically what we are, being wolves and all. His eyes open from laughing and as soon as he sees me, he almost falls backwards and off my rumpled bed. His hands shoot back to steady himself and I take that moment to launch myself at him. He falls back with a thump, ending up with his arms pinned behind his back. I stare up at him, my chin on his chest, grinning. He tugs at his arms secured behind his back and I wink. "Gotcha."

With a huff, he throws his head back against the bed, not remembering I know his weakness. He loves it when people rub his belly. That should have been a major hint that he was a dog. (Shhhh. What he doesn't know won't kill him.)

I sit on him, slowly pulling his shirt up to show his defined stomach, etched with scars as if someone drew on him with permanent markers. His eyes widen and he tugs at his arms again, grunting with effort. He's still weak from earlier. His breathing quickens from the struggle.

I methodically rub circles on his stomach with my thumbs, the pads gently gliding over the slightly raised scars on his stomach. His breath comes out shallow from the tiresome struggle to free his arms and the feeling on the scars. Each time my thumb comes into contact with a scar, he hisses and his stomach flexes from tension. I know what's running through his mind. The ugly events that caused the scars. It doesn't hurt him when I touch them. It's just reflex.

Each time he tenses or hisses at me, I rest my hand on his stomach gently. He seems to be staring up at the ceiling, swallowing loudly and visibly.

My hand brushes over another scar and he jerks, his hands finally coming free. With one motion, he sits up and gently pushes me off of him. He pants, sweat glistening on his forehead. Avoiding my eyes, he looks down at his hands.

"I'm brave." I say quietly, just loud enough for him to hear. His eyes snap up to look at me, looking haunted. What's going on? Did I scare him that much? His lips press in a firm line and he looks away, wiping at his forehead with the back of his hand. "Dal... Are you okay?" Suspicion floods me as I gain another puzzle piece.

He ignores me, staring out the window at the cold crispy night. I reach for his hand, slipping my hand into his warm one. His hands are clammy and he flinches away from me.

"Dal? I'm getting the feeling I didn't see everything in my vision." I say quietly. His head lurches in my direction, his eyes full of cold fear and that haunted look.

"No. You didn't." He states, his lips becoming a firm line again as a muscle in has jaw works.

"What happened?" My hand closes over his, squeezing gently. I scoot closer until I'm leaning against him with my head on his shoulder. I'm feeling more comfortable with him. "What is it?"

He looks down at me with glistening eyes. "It hurt." What can be worse than being torn apart?

"What hurt, Dal?" I ask gently, trying to control myself from trying to hurry him up and take the information straight out of him.

He hesitates for a second. Then swallows and looks away. "Nothing." I growl, surprising both Dallas and I.

"Don't tell me it's nothing when there's obviously something, Dallas Lee Amicus." Why won't he tell me?

"Nicole. Please... Please just let it go..." He pleads with me, his eyes starting to become mistier. "Please. Please let it go. It doesn't matter anymore." I clutch his hand, staring at him. Desperation pours from him.

"It does matter. " I tell him. "Why won't you tell me?" He looks away from me, tense and rigid. His hair is stuck to his forehead from sweat. "Dallas. Tell me."

"The burns don't even hurt anymore! Let it be, Nicole!" He growls angrily, not looking at me. I pull away from him in surprise, giving him the chance to quickly stand and stiffly walk towards the door of my room. His footsteps are fast and heavy, as if he's carrying something way heavier than he should be.

"Dallas..." I say quietly, rushing to intercept him. I grab his arm, familiar tingles lighting up. "Dallas... What did they do to you?"

He looks at me, Emerald eyes blazing. "They burned me." His voice cracks and he continues on. "And tried to strangle me. And splattered Wolfsbane on me and made me drink liquid wolfsbane." He swallows, the long column in his throat jumping. "They took a match and lit me on fire."

And with that, he pulls away from me and races out of my house while his words echo in my head and my heart pounds in my chest.