Chapter Eleven

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                      (Aesthetic by Inkedwriter)

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                      (Aesthetic by Inkedwriter)

The trek to the oceanfront was a cold spread of rugged terrain and a maze of large, winding oak; with an overhang of thick, green foliage, permitting certain breakage for rays of shimmering sunlight.

Don cast a grudging glance skyward and tugged at the brim of his hood.

He much preferred the fixed gray of his dismal chambers to the harsh, amber honesty of broad daylight, but realized he couldn't turn back now even if he tried.

He wanted to please Elle and that realization was surprising to say the least. It had been so long since he'd felt anything apart from the darker side of things, but with her, she had awakened a longing in him that clutched at his chest, thawing away at the ice around his black heart.

For so long he had walked the gray line that divided the darkness from the light that he had lost touch with things like sentiment; at least those that make you feel every bit a man. There was no compassion in his heart; no good to rival the bad. There was nothing but a hollow space where those feelings should be.

So what did that make him?

A clearing up ahead revealed the edge of grainy, taupe sand and the sound of waves lapping at the shoreline. He guided their horses beneath a copse of trees and dismounted, then proceeded to tie their reins to a branch.

As Don approached her, he was relieved to see that her complexion had color. From this point onward, he would not make the mistake of overlooking the consumption of her meals again.

In one fluid motion, he lifted her from the saddle, bringing her purposefully flush against him, promptly realizing his blunder as her petite softness melded ideally against him, creating an invigorating friction that all but ignited a fire in his bloodstream.

He heard the hitch in her breath, that fleeting connection creating a lasting, fervent impact that all but wrenched his every waking desire to the forefront.

Don gnashed his teeth and quickly set her away from him, releasing her all at once, but it did little to quell the flames licking at his insides.

Damnation. This was a mistake: her being in his possession, his unwarranted attraction to her. She was vastly becoming a temptation he could not abide. He should not want her. And yet, he did.

He had resolved to darkness, devoid of beauty and light, to remain in shadow forever starved of both. Elle could never be his. She was that light that he craved, the beauty to his imperfection, the glimmering stars to his night sky, and like the moon that pined for the sun - he was confined to darkness to covet her from the obscurer side.


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