His, Eternally [18+]

Chapter Ten: Queue & Chamomile

Indie's Point of View:

       I nearly choked on my water as this persistent, mysterious man asked me the same question that I had been asked previously before by him. I don't know what he knew, or why he was so curious. Was this all apart of some major plan, to use my 'gift' as an advantage? I shook the thoughts from my head, perplexed by his odd question. He wouldn't do that, a small voice in my head hushed me. I kept thinking about to those few words he had said only a half hour earlier, to trust him. Something about his voice and tone made me feel relaxed, made my pulse decrease and my muscles slacken.

"I'm Indie Logan Venus. Just Indie, as in just Indie, short for nothing. Logan, like the boys name. Venus, like the fiery hot planet." I answered, dodging the puzzling question with a dry humor in my tone. He stiffened, sitting down at my small kitchen table, giving me the look of agitation I had seen one too many times from him. "What's got your panties in a twist?" I chuckled, leaning against the counter as I try to find some to twiddle with in my fingers. "Okay, Indie, just Indie, fiery hot planet." He replied, slyly. His deep chuckle ignited something within me, as cheesy as it sounded, making my knees feel utterly weak; causing my belly to erupt in butterflies.

"Just Indie, where are you from, born and raised?"

"Delaware." I breathed out, still finding myself looking from his gaze. I began to play with the hem of my cotton shirt, pulling off pretend lint to distract myself from his eyes that I knew were staring so deeply at me. Every single time I knew he was looking, I felt embarrassed, and hot to the touch. It made me feel like every move I made was analyzed, and calculated by him. "Will you stop staring at me like that? Damnit." I blurted, slightly stomping my foot in frustration from the emotions he was making me feel. How was he able to do this, just by looking at me? He chuckled, that deep chuckle that made my knees feel like they were going to give in on themselves. "I cannot help it, you see. You are just... So interesting."

I scrunched my nose up. "Interesting... Interesting how? I know I'm not the bonniest lass in the town but damn." His smile soon faded, as the tension in the room grew thick. I cut practically cut the air with a butter knife. "Don't speak of yourself like that, ever, little one." His tone was deep and husky, and I could tell he was refraining from continuing to speak. I shifted my stance awkwardly, trying to focus on the ticking clock that was positioned behind him. How in the fuck was I supposed to reply to that?

"Well, erm, do you want some water, or tea, or coffee? I have food, but I don't know what you like or anything like that."

"Tea would be good, thank you, little one." He smirked, making me want to smack (or kiss?) the expression off of his face. I nodded, grabbing out the kettle and the chamomile, rushing over to the small television to turn on something, anything to break the awkwardness and tension of the air. I smiled lightly when I realized one of my favorites, Kill Bill by Quentin Tarantino, was already playing. "You have quite the appreciation for the fine cinematic arts, Indie." I heard his voice directly behind me. When the hell did he get there?

"I don't know if that was sarcasm or not, but anything Tarantino produces is art. This movie, especially, although I prefer Volume II over this one." I turned around, only to come face-to-face with his broad, muscular chest. I gulped, looking up at him through my lashes. What was he doing to me?

Suddenly, I heard a growl emit from his chest, as he looked down at me. He pinched the bridge of his nose, clenching his jaw that was cut out by the gods themselves. "Don't do that, Indie." He breathed out, his voice dropping an impossible octave lower. I furrowed my brows, trying to not be distracted by the warmth which radiated from his skin. "Do what?" His eyes turned darker than ever. He dismissed my question, turning his head at the kettle whistled, signaling for me to turn the gas off of the stove. I poured it into a mug, adding some honey before the tea bag. The rich color of indigo focused throughout the steaming water, as I stirred it in. I handed it to him awkwardly, ushering him to sit wherever he'd like as I sat a few yards away. God knows I needed to.

For the next few hours, we sat in silence. Surprisingly, it wasn't awkward, but rather pleasant. My Netflix was on queue mode, choosing whichever
movie came next. I never dared to pause the movie, even if I didn't like it — because in all honesty, I just wanted his presence there. I could feel the frustration rise in my head, it seemed as if my gut was screaming at me, "he kidnapped you! Why do you feel such absurd things for him?" But something in my mind was pulling me much closer, much closer than I have ever intended to be pulled to anyone.

Thaddeus' Point of View:

      Having my little spitfire of a mate be so close to me, yet so far away felt unbearable. "She is strong." My wolf was saying in my mind, admiring the hardheadedness of her. She studied the screen, a soft, fuzzy blanket pulled up to her thighs  as she held her knees to her chest, picking at the skin around her fingers. I so badly wanted to grab her hands, tell her to stop hurting her fragile skin, but she would then definitely think I was crazy. Images of me holding her in the woods kept replaying in my mind, missing the feeling of her small body being enveloped in mine; missing the feeling of resting my chin on her head, being able to smell her hair.

She stifled a yawn, leaning back into the sofa before resting her head on the armrest, closing her eyes for a brief moment. As minutes passed, I noticed her eyes begin to look heavy, pulling the blanket closer to her chest. Her dark, thick lashes cluttered against her cheeks as the changing colors of the television illuminated her heart-shaped face, and brought out her freckles. My wolf howled, wanting to hold her, but I quickly shut him down. I would not scare her like I had done before. Before I got too tempted, I cleared my throat softly.

"I should get going, little one." I whispered, standing up, as much as it pained me to do so. She made a quick "mhm" noise, shuffling in her position. I waited a few seconds more to assure myself that she was fully asleep, before opening the door carefully and locking it behind me. My wolf howled, yearning to give her a small kiss on the forehead, or to stroke her hair. I continued to discourage his thoughts, hoping that one day she would let me.

"You will be the death of me, little one." I mumbled, before shifting into my wolf form. I would stay near her, fearful for anything to happen to her. I couldn't stay away, even if I wanted to.