11-11-2018, 11:17 PM
The Opening Act
He raised his brow at her for drinking this way, but her nerves were wild and frayed and could use a little smoothing back down. Reilly could get her drunk without the drink, thanks to his magic, so she was accustomed to this. Or so she told herself. Fine, maybe he hadn't gotten her drunk with his magic, not really, but it was just the same anyway.
Just tasted a bit worse.
And burned.
Sudden warmth sank into her as his jacket settled on her slender shoulders and she was immediately enveloped in his scent, a dark masculine spice. She felt like she could wrap up in this smell and just curl up and sleep, get swallowed up by the darkness, forever warm and kept. Safe at all times. Cherished in secret. It didn't mean he was that way. She would assume not. But the cautious serenity was there in his scent for her nonetheless and she welcomed it.
His touch tilted her face up and she realized he was talking, her brown eyes wide on him and refocusing. She'd only had the one drink, she's got this. This was nothing. Green. She used to wish she had green eyes. She could never wear them as he did, with that raw look of strength and power in them. She couldn't help the fleeting thought that wondered if they could ever be soft.
Her face flushed with a heat. From the alcohol, she was certain. She should not take that second glass as his hand dropped from her chin but she did. She cupped it and leaned it back, savored the burn once more. Get it together, Wallace.
"I could give you many things, Wallace," he said and she looked to him warily. He could. He had that power. But why would he? He wouldn't. Her eyes caught on his scar as he continued, feeling his heavy gaze on her. "If you could have anything, what would you ask of me?"
She closed her mouth and looked away. It was a game, just a drinking game or something. Just a strange conversation topic. "All the riches in the world," she said dryly into the edge of the glass before tilting it back again. She didn't care about such things, really. But how else was she supposed to answer that? It wasn't the first time he'd asked. Hadn't that been what he'd asked her before? Hm, she couldn't remember now. Things weren't completely clear just then.
She sighed and respected his question enough to consider it seriously. There was only one thing that hit her heart just then, that she wished she had the power to make right. If she could wish for anything, it would be, "Reilly's happiness." He loved her, he must. But she was just an empty shell with nothing left to give. She knew what it was like to love someone that couldn't return it. He deserved better. She didn't want him to live this life she lived.
"I'd give anything for that man to be happy. He might want me. That may make him happy. But there is nothing left of me." It was just the tragic truth.
She was speaking too freely now, though. Her gaze turned to him again, lips drawn up in one corner with a hesitantly playful smirk. She leaned forward, cradling the quarter-full glass in her hand and looking up at him. "What would you wish for, then?" And now that she'd asked it, she was even more curious. That was actually a good question. She should drink more often.
What on earth could a man so powerful want that he couldn't just create himself or take for himself?
Just tasted a bit worse.
And burned.
Sudden warmth sank into her as his jacket settled on her slender shoulders and she was immediately enveloped in his scent, a dark masculine spice. She felt like she could wrap up in this smell and just curl up and sleep, get swallowed up by the darkness, forever warm and kept. Safe at all times. Cherished in secret. It didn't mean he was that way. She would assume not. But the cautious serenity was there in his scent for her nonetheless and she welcomed it.
His touch tilted her face up and she realized he was talking, her brown eyes wide on him and refocusing. She'd only had the one drink, she's got this. This was nothing. Green. She used to wish she had green eyes. She could never wear them as he did, with that raw look of strength and power in them. She couldn't help the fleeting thought that wondered if they could ever be soft.
Her face flushed with a heat. From the alcohol, she was certain. She should not take that second glass as his hand dropped from her chin but she did. She cupped it and leaned it back, savored the burn once more. Get it together, Wallace.
"I could give you many things, Wallace," he said and she looked to him warily. He could. He had that power. But why would he? He wouldn't. Her eyes caught on his scar as he continued, feeling his heavy gaze on her. "If you could have anything, what would you ask of me?"
She closed her mouth and looked away. It was a game, just a drinking game or something. Just a strange conversation topic. "All the riches in the world," she said dryly into the edge of the glass before tilting it back again. She didn't care about such things, really. But how else was she supposed to answer that? It wasn't the first time he'd asked. Hadn't that been what he'd asked her before? Hm, she couldn't remember now. Things weren't completely clear just then.
She sighed and respected his question enough to consider it seriously. There was only one thing that hit her heart just then, that she wished she had the power to make right. If she could wish for anything, it would be, "Reilly's happiness." He loved her, he must. But she was just an empty shell with nothing left to give. She knew what it was like to love someone that couldn't return it. He deserved better. She didn't want him to live this life she lived.
"I'd give anything for that man to be happy. He might want me. That may make him happy. But there is nothing left of me." It was just the tragic truth.
She was speaking too freely now, though. Her gaze turned to him again, lips drawn up in one corner with a hesitantly playful smirk. She leaned forward, cradling the quarter-full glass in her hand and looking up at him. "What would you wish for, then?" And now that she'd asked it, she was even more curious. That was actually a good question. She should drink more often.
What on earth could a man so powerful want that he couldn't just create himself or take for himself?