11. Reconciliation

He swore viciously, rising to his feet as he scooped her into his arms. Two quick strides brought him out of the clearing into the deeper snow. Careful as he could be, he laid her down, covering all the black and blue marks with the powder to keep the swelling down. Gathering handfuls of the snow, he melted it, pressing it carefully against her torn womanhood to clean away the fluids from her so he could see how badly she was injured.

Emmalyn finally opened her eyes and looked at him once his hold on her neck had loosened and she could see again. She blinked slowly, her eyes focusing back on him each time her lids separated again. She inhaled deeply, feeling the ache of the bruises on both skin and bone.

She started shaking violently as soon as he thrust her into the snow. Going from the heat of their bodies to the subzero temperatures made her eyes flitter and her breath catch in her throat. Her teeth started chattering loudly and, at one point, she bit her lip, causing a bit of blood to drip down from the corner of her mouth.

She whimpered in pain as he touched her where he tore her. Part of her still wanted to feel the pain, to feel the only thing she control anymore. Part of her wanted to die right there in the snow with him over her. Not because she wanted to get back at him. But because she didn’t want to put off the inevitable.

Farrel did everything he could with what little he had. He numbed her, slowed the blood until it stopped. Only then did he lift her, bringing her back to the tarp. After depositing her, he dragged it closer to the fire, then wrapped the thick material over her battered, shivering frame. And through it all, he kept swearing; cussing her irrational human behavior out with every breath he let out. Each word tumbling from his lips in a tirade of nearly incoherent mumblings.

As he moved her back to the tarp, she was shivering and thinking. Every word that she could make out had a bit of a sting to it because he was right. She was acting like a spoiled child that didn’t get her way, so she was doing all she could to make the one caring for her miserable. And, from the looks and sound of it, she was doing a damn fine job. She took a deep breath and concentrated, letting her wounds heal. It was a shame it didn’t work on her pride.

He left her then; disappearing from the clearing for only a minute and when he returned clean and dressed in fresh trousers. Though he was no longer muttering, he looked no less furious and worried than he had before.

“I do not know what you plan to gain by letting yourself suffer,” he said at last, pacing around the camp. Now and then he bent to gather up discarded bits of clothing. “But I’ll not help you die. Nor will I give you my sympathy.”

By the time he left and came back, all her injuries had healed and she shivered only from the cold. The warmth from the fire seemed so dull compared to him. She watched him and listened to him rant at and about her. She had put him in danger by her actions. No doubt he would be punished if he brought her to his elders damaged. Her little tantrum could have cost him dearly. She couldn’t let that happen. She just wished, at least some part of her wished, that he was worried about what would happen to her. Not because she was what she was, but because of something more.

“You insult me, taking everything I’ve offered you for granted, and spat them in my face. Letting yourself be destroyed now will not cleanse you in my eyes. Show me you have the will to fight.”

There was a soft muffled thump, and the light flickered as he tossed her ruined garments on the fire. Emmalyn watched her ruined clothing tossed into the fire. She had nothing to wear now, only what he would give her. She stared off into the fire as she spoke, not even sure if he would listen to her.

“Growing up, all the other girls were told about the fine men they would marry and how they would be wives and then, eventually, mothers. They all got to hear the fairy tale of how their lives would reach that storybook ending. I got to listen to it all.” She smiled a bit sadly. “But then, they would tell me about my fate and how these two great powers, ancient enemies, would both try to take me, use me, and then kill me.”

As her story began, Farrel forced himself to uncoil his muscles. Relaxing was not a simple thing when he was not sure if she was healing herself and he did not want to uncover her yet until she had ceased shivering altogether. So he reluctantly shifted from his crouch to settle on the ground, listening as the words continued to spill from her mouth.

She slowly looked over at him. “I know why the vampires want me. I can heal with a touch, I can take whatever ails another and take it into myself and heal it from within. It’s told that should I touch the body of someone that has died, that their soul will return and mine will take their place. There is someone they want back, some dust they want to bring me to. From that dust, a soul will return and I will die.”

She looked at him as she went on. “But they don’t know why your elders would want me, other than to keep me from being used by the other side. I would be too dangerous to keep alive. That is all they can think of as a reason your kind would want to kill me as well. All I know is, I will never have what the other girls were told they could have. I will never marry, I will never have children. I will never be wanted for more than what thing I am.”

She swallowed hard and looked back at the fire, unable to look at him anymore. “And then there was you. I thought, for maybe an instant, that you saw more to me than just what I am. Maybe it was back at the market, or our little shelter from the world, but I thought it was there, fleeting as it was.” She laughed shaking her head. “I thought, and maybe even hoped a little, that maybe I could have that story too. It was a foolish moment, a moment of weakness and hope.”

Once or twice he grimaced but said nothing. Farrel knew all too well who the blood-sucking vermin wanted to bring back, and he did not like to think they would sacrifice the little healer for their gain. He also did not like hearing that she assumed so much from his kind when she clearly knew nothing. He could not judge. As far as humans were concerned, he preferred to remain ignorant to their petty, emotional dramas. Marriage and Fairy Tales included.

She sighed softly. “I’m sorry, hunter.” She mumbled, not knowing his name and still not being able to look at him. “I was acting like a spoiled child, trying to use the one thing that I have control over to hurt you when it’s not even your fault. You are doing as they meant you to, bringing me to your elders for judgment. I can’t fault you for what you do. But I will ask you for forgiveness. My actions were selfish and unwarranted. I’m sorry I insulted you and your honor and I promise I will never do so again.”

The bitterness that drifted into her words when she mentioned him and how she had hoped he could make things better for her earned her an icy glance and did not soften even after she apologized to him. His hands flexed, struggling to keep his anger in check for a moment, he released a heavy sigh that seemed to shed away his tension in one breath. He moved his arm, reaching down and cupped under her jaw and turn her head so she would look at him again.

“Your kind knows nothing about our ways, and it is wrong to assume so much when the only knowledge humans have is how to kill one of us. We are not bred from you like the vampires are. We do not spread our plague through bites like them. Do not assume that we would kill you just because they would,” he said, wanting that crystal clear above everything else.

He waited, letting that sink into her mind, then continued.

“Wolves do not have marriages. We’ve no need of them. Save for the concubines meant only to breed, our kind mate for eternity. When we bind ourselves to another, it is permanent and it is not an act to be taken lightly. But I dare say as long as I have not damaged you badly and you do not let yourself die over this, you will have children. I am... potent.”

Should she ask, he would explain it further, but he rather hoped he didn’t have to draw out the details of his parents’ bloodline.