Saving Nicole

Chapter 23: Appear

Nicole's POV
--

I don't hear anything, his breath puffing against my neck; warm and comforting. The steady thump of his heart can be heard without even trying to hear it, and I know he's tired of holding back. But he's holding back to protect me. I'm just sitting, holding him, as he cries on me. My arms are wrapped around his back, one gently running its fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. If someone had told me a few moths ago that I would see Dallas cry, I would have laughed.

"Dal.. You need to let it go. Just say it and we don't have to ever talk about it again," I turn my head slightly so I can whisper quietly in his ear. He shudders and quakes, swallowing loudly and hugging me tighter.

"I-I can't." Despite his damaged voice, it was surprisingly even. I pull back from him, tilting my head slightly as light pours through the window of his room. Shadows create odd discolorations on his face, and I have to tilt his head with my fingers to look at him. "I can't, Nic." He whimpers, something very animalistic and unusual for him. I stare at him in the eyes, getting sucked in, and then nod.

"That's okay." My hand cups his face to where my thumb can reach the scars across his face. The puffy skin feels soft against my thumb, making me wince from knowing how much pain must have been used to create it. Dallas closes his eyes slowly, letting out a soft breath through his nose. The scars are next to each other, racing from the top right of his forehead to the bottom left of his jaw.

Cupping his face in both hands now, I lean my forehead against his, looking at his closed eyelids. His breathing seems to have calmed to a gentle puff. Suddenly, an urge rushes through me, and I almost give in to it. Hesitating, I debate for a second and decide there's no harm.

Leaning closer, I kiss each of the dark scars, my lips tingling from contact. Another moment of hesitation and I lean down to brush my lips against his lightly. His eyes snap open, staring at me intensely and leaning forward slightly to make the kiss firmer. His lips feel so good against mine and as odd as it sounds, it feels like he was made to kiss me.

Too soon, he pulls away, his eyes closed again, and exhales quietly. I watch him, looking for a reaction. When his eyes find mine again, he kisses me, grunting softly. I suddenly have the desire to test something.

With tentative hands, I slip them under his shirt onto his stomach. I push him back so he has to use his arms to keep himself up rather than have the ability to stop me. I gently run my fingers over the multiple scars hidden, the plane of his stomach tensing as soon as he realizes what I'm doing. My thumb brushes over one letter while a muffled groan fills the big room. He pulls back from me, his head hanging as my thumb glides over more letters. His dark blond hair glimmers from the dim lighting of the room as he shudders. His arms shake, threatening to give out beneath him. His Minty smell fills my nose as he struggles to calm his breathing.

I run my fingers gently over the bump of the third letter of 'You' and tilt my head when he groans again. "Does it hurt, Dal?" He looks up at me, his eyes seeming hollow. I can't decipher the emotion in them because there are way too many. But I already know his answer.

Before he can respond, I lurch forward and kiss him again, his eyes widening. Again, he knows what's happening. My hands glide over the whole sentence on his stomach, making him shudder before collapsing with me on top. "It does, doesn't it?" The words sound feeble and sour to me, but I say them anyway. "That's what they did to your face." The statement ends up sounding more like a question and he stares at me with his brilliant eyes, unable to speak. I'm getting closer to the truth. "They had a silver knife and dipped it in Wolfsbane. Then they lit some of the knife on fire and used it on your face. Right?" He flinches, rolling his head back to expose his throat. I had hit home. "They only used an iron knife without fire or Wolfsbane to carve your stomach, hm? But when they splashed Wolfsbane on you, it filled the scrapes, making them feel as if you were being burned alive. Right?" He moans quietly, his raspy voice echoing in his room.

I'm right.

Poor Dallas.... So much pain.. How is he even alive? He should be dead with everything they did to him. "I'm so sorry, Dal... My gosh, I'm so sorry...." My words are whispers only he can hear, and I gently rub his stomach around the ugly scars, his warm skin soft against my hand. His tensed muscles relax, and his heavy eyelids droop closed with exhaustion and fatigue. My other hand cups the side of his face, the tips of my fingers in his soft hair. Lying next to him, my fingers in his hair and soothing his aching muscles, I curl up. I know I have to go home soon, but this feels so good, just being here with him.

The light in his room has dimmed from the lack of day and the approach of night. The night sky, moon, and stars peek through the window at us, hoping not to disturb. Shadows bask in the darkness throughout his room, causing myself to feel fatigued as well.

A small sigh escapes Dallas's lips and the pillow beneath his head shifts with a tilt of his head. Mint smell surrounds me in a case of happiness when his beautiful eyes find mine. "You were right." His crackly voice reaches my ears, despite the fact it was a dull whisper. "It hurts so bad." His head tilts back to where he's glaring at the ceiling. "They did that to me." He sniffs with disgust, his eyes closing slowly and then reopening. His head tilts back to me when my hand draws circles on his stomach, making him sigh again. "S-Stop...I can't concentrate with you doing that." With a small grunt, I lean down to his stomach, kissing it gently, before leaning back. His body shudders and shakes, a small groan leaving his lips. Confusion settles upon my shoulders but gets quickly pushed to the side when he looks at me again. "Stooop, N-Nicole." He grunts, his head turning the opposite direction.

Leaning forward, I use my hand to tilt his head so I can kiss him. I'm feeling daring today. Odd. I'm never like this. But I can't get enough. It's like his touch is addictive. His eyes are wide in a pleased kind of shock. It doesn't take him long to respond. When I pull away, he pants quietly. "I-I'm serious. I can't c-concentrate." This makes me grin.

"You don't need to concentrate." I mumble, curling back into his side. My arm rests across his chest while his holds me closer to him. Affection prickles deep within me, making me drunk with happiness. "I'm tired. I need to go home."

Turning into his side, he buries his face in my hair, saying,"You can go home in the morning." His voice comes out muffled while he inhales my scent. It's a werewolf thing.

"No. I need to go home now, Dal." I say quietly, feeling the desire to stay build within me. I need to leave now before I give. A noise of disappointment comes from him, but he lets go of me long enough so I can get up. Heaving himself up, he stands on wobbly legs and follows after me in my pursuit to go home.

Our feet pat against the marble floors soothingly like rain pounding on rooftops. Carly's smell drifts towards me from the kitchen; Damian's as well. He's been home a lot more now that I know what, who, we are.

With a loud creak, the door squeals open to reveal the sharp, crisp air of night. It bites at my skin, causing little goosebumps to form.

We walk the way to my house in silence, both of us anxious and nervous about what is going on between us. I'm unsure of what's happening; I've never felt this way before. He's my best friend- my only friend- and I don't want to loose him. That would signal the end of the world.

When the cold key in my hand clatters on the island, I almost pee my pants when I realize Dallas and I are not the only ones home. A familiar scent explodes in my nostrils, the hair on the back of my neck standing up.

That's when the man appears. His dark brown eyes, alert and meticulous, dart in Dallas and I's direction. His dark brown hair is combed into perfection, not a single hair out of place. A smile graces his lips, tilting the corners into a deceiving smile. So familiar, yet so foreign. So close, yet so far. So different, yet the same.

"Hi, Dad."