Fractured Calm 2
I inhaled deeply, swallowing down the knot growing in my throat. Shaking the lingering tension from my limbs, I shifted my stance and prepared myself.
Ethan’s movements remained measured, and deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world to wear me down. And he did. After a while, I was running on fumes, my breaths had grown short and my muscles ached beyond possible redemption. Or so it felt.
But I still had enough in me to show I hadn't been playing around in the time that had passed.
I pushed forward, my fists tightening as I launched myself at him, aiming for his side. He dodged swiftly, effortless as ever, his body shifting with a frustrating smoothness that made it feel like he was barely trying. Again.
I didn't have the energy to dwell on the difference in experience. I simply twisted my heel to strike again. As expected, he caught my wrist mid-swing, his grip firm but not bruising. My pulse lurched, heat and ice warring in my veins.
His dark emerald eyes flickered with something unreadable before he released me.
"You're still relying on your emotions," he said. "I really didn't peg you for the uncontrollable type.“
I was not! I was trying. But how could I find control when he was the very thing unraveling it right then?
Still, I forced myself to take a steadying breath, grounding my stance before charging at him once more. My exhaustion slowed me, though, and within seconds, he had me pinned, his knee pressed against the dirt beside me.
I let out a torrent of dry breaths, then, finally, dropped onto my back with a groan. "I hate this."
"You’re exhausted," he corrected, stepping back to let me breathe.
I shot him a glare before propping myself up on my elbows. "Same thing."
He let out a small huff of amusement before lowering himself to the ground beside me. Not a drop of sweat marred his perfectly sized forehead, though his hair was tousled.
For a moment, neither of us spoke, the only things filling the space between us were the steady rhythm of my breathing and his woody scent.
Then, without a preamble, he asked, "Are you still mad at me?"
I scoffed, tilting my head to the side, my ponytail swaying along. "No." The answer came quicker than I expected.
I really didn't care, he should stop asking me. He had the freedom to do whatever he wanted to do in those two weeks.
He hummed, studying me for a beat before exhaling. "I initially left the house because of the full moon."
I frowned, shifting to properly face him. "What does that have to do with anything?"
He held my gaze, unblinking. "Another thing about our bond is, that being apart during a full moon already hurts, but on the night of it, my urges to consummate our bond grow stronger. I suspect it’s because you're turning eighteen soon."
The words sent a jolt of something unfamiliar down my spine. My cheeks flushed immediately as my eyes widened. I swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the space between us. What did he mean?
"Consummate—" My throat went dry. "You mean…"
His expression didn’t waver. "You know what I mean."
I did. And now I hated that I did. I shifted my gaze to the ground, inhaling and exhaling hoping the cold in my bones would nullify the flush in my cheeks.
“I didn't exactly want to leave, I just didn't trust myself to not look for you the minute I felt the urge to,” he admitted with a gentleness that had me looking at him.
I shifted uncomfortably, my pulse fluttering with a sensation I wasn’t ready to acknowledge. "So you left because of that?"
His jaw tightened slightly. "I needed to stay away from you. One thing I wouldn’t do is force you to be mine."
Something in his tone made my breath catch. There was no teasing, no challenge, just quiet certainty.
I bit my bottom lip curling my fingers against my knee. I wasn't sure what to say to that. How exactly was I to process the weight of what he had just admitted? He didn't want to force me to be his? Did he want me to be his?
My heart continued its relentless thumping against my chest. I couldn't find any of my composure. "You shouldn’t say things like that."
His brow lifted, a curious glint shimmering in his gaze. "Why not?"
I exhaled through my nose, looking anywhere but at him. "Because it suggests you want me in some way."
Silence.
Then, "Is that such an unbelievable thing?" In a deep velvet tone.
The question sent flurries of warmth creeping up my neck. Why would he say that?
I scrambled to my feet before brushing the dust off my shorts. "Don't confuse me," I muttered, still refusing to look at him. "And you know what, yes I'm still mad at you."
And before he could say anything else, I turned on my heel and walked out of the den, willing my pulse to settle because he could definitely hear it.
I knew he could and somehow that made me feel more vulnerable than I've ever felt in my life.