For those of you looking for a bit more 'action' of the erotic variety, our two characters will get together in a couple more chapters. For now, sit back and enjoy the beginnings of the plot :)
psyche b
2. Books
Kelly woke up slowly. The first thing that filtered through the fog of sleep was that there was no one hitting her, or yelling at her. The next thing that broke through was, she was warm and comfortable. For a few minutes, she was certain that she was still dreaming. The scent was wrong though. In comfortable dreams like this, she was always able to smell the lilacs from the tall bushes that grew outside her window. In those dreams, her father was still alive and her mother had never become a haunted shell of herself.
In this dream, she didn't smell lilacs. Kelly curled up on her side and tried to place what she was smelling. The only thing that came to mind was that the scent was something musky and masculine. It was comforting in a way, unlike the unwashed stink of Roland Dawes. Whatever this comfortable dream was, she knew she was going to have to open her eyes and get back to reality eventually. It was better to do it before something intruded on it anyway. Kelly willed herself to remember this feeling, then she opened her eyes, fully expecting to see the inside of the filthy shack. When she didn't, she had no idea where she was.
Kelly sat up, her heart was pounding as she looked around the room. There was a large fireplace made of tumbled river rock. A leather chair in front of it that looked somehow larger than most ordinary chairs. The couch she was laying on was higher and deeper too. When she glanced over at the breakfast counter, she remembered her futile flight and the large, gruff man who brought her in from the cold and saved her life.
She still wasn't entirely sure why he'd saved her life. He hadn't hurt her, but he had gone out of his way to make her think that he was going to.
Kelly looked around the room. Two of the walls were lined with books from about three feet off the floor to nearly the ceiling. She couldn't see a television in this room, but there was a Bose sound system that worked with an mp3 player. Kelly wondered what kind of music he listened to. She told herself that she wasn't going to find out. Clearly he didn't want her there. Even if she had wanted to stay, it wouldn't be safe for him. The best thing for her to do was get what little clothing she had from Roland's shack and take her chances.
That didn't mean she couldn't show a little gratitude. Whatever his motivations, he had brought her in from the snow. She needed time to figure out how she was going to get back to the shack in her bare feet anyway. While she folded the blanket she said a little prayer that Cody was safe and warm that morning too. She left the neatly folded blanket at one end of the couch, using the reawakening aches to focus her.
Next she looked into fridge. She found two dozen eggs and several pounds of bacon as well the venison from the night before. She found a bowl and a whisk and started scrambling four of the eggs. She had no idea if he would eat that much, and she cursed herself for not paying closer attention to what he ate for dinner the night before. Still, if it was too much, he might let her have what was left.
*~*~*~*~*~*
He'd woken up when he heard her moving around. At first, he just listened, curious what she would do. He'd never brought a frail into the cabin, much less let one wander around loose. Usually by the time he was done with them they weren't capable of much wandering anyway. He heard her wake up and shift on the sofa, then he didn't hear anything. What the fuck was she doing? Just sitting there? That didn't make a damn bit of sense. She should be up and searching around for something to attack him with. This one wasn't exactly predictable though.
He walked closer to the bedroom door, wondering if he was missing something. All that greeted him was silence at first. Then she moved and stifled a groan. A minute later he heard the refrigerator open, then several cupboards. The bitch was making herself right at home.
Wearing only his sweat pants, he opened the door silently and moved into the living room. The blanket was neatly folded and laying at the end of the sofa. She was standing with her back to him, scrambling eggs. He approached her swiftly and silently. Just before he reached her, a wave of fear rolled off of her and she tried to turn. He didn't give her a chance. He planted one hand on either side of her on the counter, trapping her between his body and the cabinet.
He growled softly. "Scare ya, frail?" Creed grinned at the little tremble he felt go through her. If she only knew how good she smelled she'd be fucking terrified.
"I-"
He pressed his hips forward holding her pinned, letting her feel that his cock was already halfway hard. She bit down on her lip and drew fresh blood. It was almost too much to take, his claws bit into the countertop.
"I thought you might like some breakfast." She was working hard to keep the tremor out of her voice. He was surprised that she mostly succeeded.
He leaned over further, emphasizing the fact that the top of her head came up to the middle of his chest. "How many eggs is that?"
"Four." She was taking deep, slow breaths and gripping the edge of the counter so tightly her knuckles were white.
"Add two more." He wanted to feel her move against him.
She hesitated. "N-now?"
"No, when pigs fucking sprout wings."
The carton was just far enough away that she needed to reach to get it. When she did, he could see that the small movement caused some kind of pain. She covered the wince well enough, but he saw it anyway. He waited until she cracked two more eggs into the bowl. He moved back and leaned against the other counter, giving her some space to work. "Add some hot sauce too."
She looked into the fridge and got out the small bottle. "And get me a beer while you're in there." He noticed that she was protecting her right side, and that the cool air from the fridge hardened her nipples. She handed him the beer, and he watched her shake a little of the hot sauce into the bowl. "More." He said. He opened the beer and took a long drink.
She added a little more, and looked at him.
"Keep goin'."
She obliged, adding sauce slowly until he told her to stop.
"How much bacon do you want?" She asked. She was covering the tremor in her voice better, but she was still deliciously scared.
He held out his hand. "Gimme the package."
Again, a reach into the fridge. Again, he watched her nipples tease the fabric of his shirt. She blushed and hunched her shoulders when she put the package in his hand. He cut through the plastic, pulled out all but three slices, and dropped them in the warming pan.
"Do you like it crisp or-"
"Just keep it moving. I'll tell you when." He watched her separate the slices.
She was starting to calm down. The anxiety was fading from her scent and her posture was starting to relax too. It made the way she favored her right side more obvious.
"Think they're broken?"
"What?" She was surprised by the question.
"Your ribs."
She shook her head a little. "No."
