Soulmates

Fenris & Fiona / Part Four

Fiona woke tied to a chair in the middle of a bedroom. The back of the chair stood directly against a bed. The walls were covered in a pastel green paisley printed wallpaper. The curtains were of the same shade of green and closed off the windows. Two small windows opposite her. Fiona scanned the room. It seemed to be severely outdated and she wondered immediately whose house this was.

The dresser to her left had an enormous mirror balancing on top of it. Dimly lit by a light bulb above it. Fiona could make out herself vaguely in it. She looked paler than usual and her hair was a mess. Her eyes moved from the mirror to a small frame on the wall. A white cat glanced at her from it.

Her hands were tied to the arms of the chair with thick rope. Moving around too much made her right arm burn again. When she looked down to it she saw a cut in her sleeve and blood. A bullet must've grazed her.

Where was he? When she focused she could hear faint noises coming from the rest of the house. No voices just some thuds here and there. Some shuffling of feet. What would be a smart move for her now? Fiona kept going over the room but nothing seemed to stick out and even if it did, she was tied up and wounded. She needed to be smart. What if the uniformed guy was killed by the henchman after they'd left? She could still be in incredible amounts of trouble. More so than the usual.

Before she had any more time to think the door swung open and there he was. He wore a white tank top and his dark pants had made room for what she imagined where either white shorts or very long undergarments. Either way, her eyes couldn't help but drift down there.

He came up to her in absolute silence. A small bowl of water in his hands. Fiona shuffled a little in her chair, adjusting herself to match his energy. She cleared her throat and looked at him as directly as she could. No fear would be shown here today.

'Is he dead?' She asked him but of course there was no reply. Instead he kneeled before her and shifted his eyes from hers to her arm. 'Please untie these,' Fiona hinted at the wrists. 'I mean what am I going to do? Run?' she laughed nervously. 'I'm no match for you and your... friend.' She paused here and awaited his response. None verbally but he did start to work on those ropes, loosening the one on her injured arm with a knife he had tucked away in between his shorts. When he finished he took a small wet cloth out of the bowl and ripped of the sleeve to free up her arm. 'Well thanks for that.' Fiona rolled her eyes.

The cold water against the cut stung a little. She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes. He was surprisingly gentle with her, dabbing the cloth and rinsing the blood off as carefully as he could. It turned out to be a fairly small cut though Fiona knew it would probably leave a temporary scar.

'So... I like the shorts. Dressed up for the occasion I see. Love the room too. Didn't quite imagine you to be a pastel paisley type of guy,' Fiona started to ramble. She tried to lure a reaction out of him. In all of those months she hadn't heard him speak once. She got side-eyed, stared at and punched by him but never a sound.

He put the cloth back into the bowl and faced her again. His eyes still so serious. He got up and put the bowl on the dresser, taking a towel out of the closet on his way back and dried his hands with it. In all of this time Fiona hastily managed to get her other wrist free from the rope. It was easily undone. She rubbed her wrists and just as she was about to leap to her feet he was back. He pushed her back into her chair, his eyes shot to rope on the floor and back to her. A gnarl escaped.

'Come on. Seriously. I'm not running. I'm not an idiot,' Fiona grinned. 'I'm hurt and you are twice my size. In a one on one combat I could maybe if the environment allowed it and the circumstances were you know, okay, I could maybe take you down but your friend is probably waiting out there in the next room and a fight would startle him into joining so I'm good. I'll just sit here, quietly admiring your beautiful... shorts.' Her eyes moved down again and he growled again. 'What's your name?' She asked in response. Nothing. 'Just tell me your name. First name? Last name? Nickname? I've been calling you the Viking. I'm sure you know mine. You've been chasing me for months so you must now mine. Do you?'

'Yes.' He said. Even though he uttered only that single word, Fiona could hear a heavy accent laying on top of it.

His hands pressed down on her wrists. His eyes leveled with hers. Fiona stretched out her legs beside him, tossing one of them slightly up and around his calf lowering him further down and pulling him closer. 'So,' she whispered, tilting her head sideways. 'You follow me around, make my life incredibly hard in your efforts to ruin all of my hard work,' Another growl from him. 'And now that you've successfully caught me, you keep me tied up in this room and you tend to my wound wearing next...to...nothing.' Her leg slides up to meet the end of his shorts and it seems to trigger something inside him. He jolts backwards and Fiona leaps to her feet. In that single second she tries to get away only to be pushed back brutally against the dresser. The door seems miles and miles away. Blocked by a skyscraper sized man in front of her.

He shuffles in closer as Fiona practically feels herself crawling up onto the dresser to get away from him but then she stops her own wriggling and shuffling. She stands there as if she were frozen, watching this man work his way up to her.

'Right,' Fiona begins when he is simply inches away from her and his hands are making their way toward her in slow-motion. 'We should really stop getting this close to each other.' She mutters.

His hands wrap around her arms. The cut on her right is burning harder when he squeezes just below it. He pauses. Fiona holds her breath. Is this the moment she dies? Has she been taunting him too much? She definitely didn't play her cards right, did she?

He leans in closer and Fiona widens her stance. She leans backwards, almost folded onto the dresser in the most uncomfortable way. Her hands hang lifelessly beside her as he holds her close by her arms. When he closes in even further her hand brushes against the fabric of his shorts. Soft, thin fabric. Pajama's? Whatever it is it shoots electricity up her spine and when she looks at his icy eyes in that same moment it jumpstarts her heart back into existence. He must've felt it too because as if the two were linked by some invisible wire they are pulled together so fast that their lips touch. The two move together as if they had rehearsed this choreography a million times before. His hands move from her arms to her legs, lifting her up onto the dresser and in turn she spreads her legs open so she can wrap them completely around his body. Her hands shoot up and into his thick, blond hair, grabbing strands and softly pulling. His mouth opens and hers moves rhythmically with him.

He only lets go to pull on her button down dress, tearing it open swiftly, exposing her black bra. He growls yet again and lean back in to kiss her. She slides her hands under his shirt, caressing the muscles she feels underneath and sinking her fingernails in when he lowers his lips from hers to her neck.

The two move from dresser to the bed, losing pieces of clothing as they go. He keeps her close the entire time. Moving her as if she was just another limb until he finally places her gently onto the sheets. Both breathing heavily into each other.

'What's your name?' she breaths into his ear when he places kisses down her stomach. He comes up to meet her eyes. 'Please.' She groans. There is a light twinkle in his eyes. Mischievous.

'Fenris.' He breaths back. Fiona smiles. Repeating the name over and over in her mind as if it is part of her heartbeat.

'Fenris.' She says with a hoarse voice pulling him close and directly pushing him to her side. She rolls on top of him. 'Fenris.' She whispers again before kissing him another time.