Odin's Prize

Heat (Part 2)

Mesmerize me

An exchange of energy when our fingertips meet, skin to skin. There is a momentary closure of my eyes while greedily consuming the contact.

When opening sight back up, Odin's face is there for my vision to trace in depth over. There is no smile on lips that are slightly parted, except the eyes are combating for domination in the small space of them. The ancient forest green is terrorizing the black pupils for its submission.

While those orbs fight themselves from within, Odin pulls his fingertip touch away only to sink his left clawed hand into steel, the other hand sinking his claws into the body of the truck.

Holding himself in his spot.

Taking this opportunity, through the broken fragments of glass to reach out and touch the rise of his left shoulder. Tracing the black ink patterns of an ancient symbol that twist and turns, extending upward towards his neck as if it's a living breathing life form.

A bare patch of skin that holds nothing but the color of his flesh is left barren; it seems so out of place on a body that has been painted in all ways possible.

Tracing that singular open space of skin against his dilated carotid artery on the side of his neck.

Bounding

Rushing

Breathing quickens

"Why is there no tattoo there?" The tip of my finger circling the open area, feeling the edge of the pulsing artery, the pristine flesh that holds only his birth color.

Odin's body becomes a landslide of quivering flesh, a significant discomfort comes over his face, while a sound of deafening magnitude quakes the air around us as his wolf tries ascending outward.

A moment is taken by him, gaining internal control of something that's savagely trying to gain the control over him.  His head is angling away from my reach, while his right-hand goes to his neck exactly where my fingertip was.

Watching his index finger trace that engorged vessel of blood along the side of his neck, an introduction of a grin almost peeks out from the side of his lips.

"That spot is where your lips will go, I want to draw them myself, " Odin's eyes land on my lips, vision is tracing every minute detail as if committing the sight to memory.

"My lips?"

"Yes, I always want them to be against my throat." The tone of his voice devours all other sounds that are rushing inside my ear.

He's my cannibalizing thoughts, the wolf inside me is ready to eat what Odin's nature is offering her.

Feast of flesh, nothing will be wasted

A hand is gripping the fabric of my shirt pulling me back inside into the cab of the truck, except whoever's hand that is has not enough strength to move me backward.

Holding my place still, without concern for what's behind me, more concentrated on what's right in front of me.

There is an unguarded tone to the wolf inside me, her chest vibrating in octaves for Odin to hear and understand. He seems to be enjoying her serenade because those dark green eyes have become fixed and dilated with a depth of blackness that can only mean the wolf has won its ascension from the inside.

A jaw starts to stretch, canines poking through. Shoulders are curving, spine loosening within him. A great heave of his body.

"Drive fast," Odin calls out to my cousin to obey his order. The feel of the truck jumping forward, accelerating with what's underneath the hood. The wind now a gale force inside the interior, hair whipping wildly around.