The Darkness We Hide

The next morning Michelle hobbled to the bathroom, her whole body feeling like it was on fire. Every joint ached as she slid gratefully into a steaming tube, examining her cuts and bruises. Whatever kind of dog had bitten her, its mouth had been huge, the damage to her shoes told her that much, so escaping with aches, pains, and just a few scratches and bruises was fine with her.

She stayed in the tub, emptying and refilling it when the water got cold twice, trying to ease the aches and pains. Finally, with a herculean effort, she lifted herself out of the water and wrapped a robe snuggly around her damaged body. Picking out a loose hanging pair of pants and an oversized tee shirt she pulled them on slowly, her back protesting as she bent to pull her pants on.

Sitting in her kitchen, Michelle sipped coffee, relishing its bitter taste as it washed down the pain medicine. Looking out her front window at the grey Seattle sky, she wondered who would let an animal that big loose on the streets.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her phone ringing.

“Hello?” she said into the receiver.

“Hi,” Gareth said, sounding happy to hear from her.

“Hi,” she replied, the day growing brighter at the sound of his voice.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, the joy in his voice being replaced by worry.

“Nothing,” she replied, wondering how he could tell something was wrong.

“What’s wrong?” Gareth asked again, his voice now anxious.

“It’s nothing,” Michelle sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Last night I was walking home from the bar and a stray dog attacked me.”

“What!?” he demanded, his voice going from concern to anger.

“It knocked me down and ruined my favorite pair of shoes,” she said, laughing a little.

“Were you hurt?” he demanded. “Did it bite you?”

“No,” she assured him, “I got a few bumps and bruises, but I’m fine.”

“I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” Gareth said, already moving towards the door.

Twenty minutes later he was leaning against the buzzer on her door, not releasing it until she answered the intercom.

“Gareth?” Michelle asked impatiently, slightly annoyed that he seemed to think she needed him to rush over.

“Yes,” he said, sounding out of breath. “Let me up, please.”

Buzzing him in, Michelle waited with the door open, ready to give him a piece of her mind.

Gareth didn’t bother with the elevator, taking the stairs three at a time instead. Reaching her floor, he was at her door in three strides, pulling Michelle into his protective embrace.

“Thank the goddess you’re alright,” he breathed, burying his face in her neck.

Michelle gave a small cry of pain, his embrace so tight it hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he said stepping back, his eyes searching her face.

“It’s okay,” she said, stepping away from him. “I’m fine. You didn’t need to rush over here.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, still looking at her, studying her face, his inner beast wimpering at the sight of her cuts and bruises. “Just the thought of you being hurt, it scared me.”

“I told you I was okay,” Michelle replied, returning to her kitchen table.

“I know,” he sighed following her, taking a seat across from her.

Looking at Gareth, Michelle noticed his shaking hands, the sweat on his forehead, his rapid breathing. Realization washed over her. Gareth had lost his men, and the idea of her getting hurt had scared the hell out of him.

Standing, she circled to his side pulling his head against her breast, feeling his arms encircled her waist.

Gareth held her close, sobbing out his fear into her shirt as the sound of her steady heart beat lulled his frazzled nerves.

“The thought of losing you,” he cried, gathering the fabric of her clothes into his fists. “I can’t.”

“Gareth,” she cooed, running her fingers through his hair, massaging as a mother might, “look at me.”

Lifting his tear streaked face up to her, Gareth couldn’t find words to express what he was feeling. Hearing that his destined mate had been attacked had rocked him and his beast down to their core.

Michelle bent her head, kissing his tears away moving from cheek to cheek finishing at his lips.

Standing, Gareth returned her kiss, his hands not releasing her shirt.

As the kiss ended, Gareth still held her tightly, unwilling to let her go.

“I’m okay Gareth,” she reassured him, trying to step out of his embrace.

Slowly, he released his grip, letting her go.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, holding her hand, his face a mask of shame. “When you said you were attacked I couldn’t help but picture the worst.”

“It’s okay,” Michelle replied, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Other than a few bumps and bruises from hitting the pavement I’m okay. It tore the hell out of my coat and shoes, and ruined a pair of jeans, but considering how much worse it could have been I’ll take it.

“Thank god my neighbors have a Pomeranian with a tiny bladder,” she added chuckling, “and Mrs. Crabtree is a badass with her cane. She managed to help chase it away.”

“Well,” he sighed, “now that I’ve made an ass out of myself, I guess I should go.”

“No,” Michelle replied, pulling him with her to the sofa. “You didn’t make an ass out of yourself. Granted, you overreacted, a lot, but I think I understand why.

“You were thinking about your men weren’t you?” she asked, sitting down, drawing him with her.

“Yes,” he lied, knowing this was not the time to break the 'you're the destined mate of a lycanthrope and it kills me to think of you being taken from me!' bomb on her, plus the fact that he had his suspicion that it had been Richard that had attacked her. If it had been him, Gareth was going to find him and rip his throat out.

“Well,” she said, still holding his hand. “If I need help, I’ll ask. I’m not some delicate flower, I’ve been taking care of myself for over ten years.”

“I know,” he replied, his head sinking at her beautiful stubbornness.

“And I am not looking for a relationship with someone who feels the need to control every moment of my life,” she continued. “I wasn’t even looking for a relationship period, until I met you.”

At her words, Gareth looked up, his eyes searching her face.

“So,” he began hesitantly, “I didn’t just fuck this up royally?”

“No,” Michelle replied, cupping his face with her free hand, “you haven’t fucked this up. I just need you to understand that I don’t need to be rescued every time something happens.

“If I slip on the ice,” she continued, her thumb caressing his cheek, “I’ll take a knight carrying me home. But if a random mutt knocks me over, and I manage to come out mostly unscathed, I don’t need you to run to my aid.”

“Okay,” he agreed, turning his head to kiss her palm, “I will try. I can’t make any promises.”

“Promises can be broken,” Michelle said, loving the feel of his lips on her palm. “I don’t want promises. What I want is for you to keep trying.”

Pulling her to him, Gareth kissed her deeply.

His kiss was a promise that he would protect her from Richard, that he would protect her forever.

“Wanna have lunch?” he asked, getting to his feet.

“Sure,” Michelle replied, getting to her feet. “What do you have in mind?”

“How about I make something here?” Gareth asked, finally smiling.

“Sounds good,” she said from the kitchen table, clearing up her coffee cup, “but I don’t have much in the fridge. I’ll get changed into something less grungy, and we can go out.”

“You look good in grungy,” he replied, slipping his arms around her waist as he came to stand behind her. “How about you stay comfy and I go pick something up?”