Eccedentesiast (n)
Someone who hides pain behind a smile
***
Eyes lighting up with an incandescent fire - smoldering, feral.
Darkness swallowing his features.
Wafts of anger, anxiety, incomprehension, and fear intoxicating the air between them.
Jerking muscles.
Dilated pupils.
Flaring nostrils.
Chest heaving and muscles quivering like the flanks of a spent racehorse.
The Viking's hulking body towers over her, muscular arms clenching and twitching as his fists tighten and relax over and over again like flickering lightbulbs.
It is such a drastic change from the man who was kneeling at her feet only an hour ago, touching her with carefulness and hesitant hands, that her breath catch and her heart lunges in her throat in a frantic bid to fly away.
Shock courses through her veins like wildfire, muscles tightening as tension races through her whole body.
It feels like a silent explosion.
An awkward silence has fallen over the yard, shattered only by his incessant growls, and Salem can feel everyone's eyes on her as unease begins to climb.
It doesn't help.
Trapped in her fear and incomprehension, she now finds herself battling against every emotion thrown at her, crashing from all directions and threatening to drown her.
Anxiety, agitation, and finally ... finally... a shot of comfort and strength seemingly sent to her.
Her eyes flicker to the side, locking briefly with Vasili's concerned ones and snapping back immediately to the extremely angry-looking Lycan standing in front of her.
"Alright, that is not going to be enough food, Younglings, or have you forgotten that there are Lycans in here today?" the Elder rumbles, his voice breaking the tension and resounding in the front yard. "I could eat three of you little cubs and still be hungry," he growls playfully, snatching a little boy in his arms and throwing him in the air.
Tiny feet race to throw themselves at Vasili.
Peeling childish laughter and his booming laugh filling the air as he bends down and gathers all of them in his arms, plonking himself on the second big chair at the end of the table.
Their parents and other members start moving again, turning their back on the display Salem and Godric make, rushing to cook more food and dress the large table.
It all feels forced, like an orchestrated distraction for the sake of her sanity, or to offer some pretend notion of intimacy. Nonetheless, even if the raucous is staged, jacked-up by anxiety and false exuberance, Salem appreciates the effort. It beats having to deal with all of...this...under the watchful eyes of strangers.
And just, what the hell is this anyway...
"What did I do wrong?" she chokes in a voice so meek that she internally cringes, hating the insecurity and fear she knows everyone can hear, but refusing to lower her eyes, less he moves closer.
The sound of her voice seems to startle him out of his trance, and he takes a step forward.
It is a pure reflex then... the way she reacts.
YOU ARE READING
HIS SALVATION
Werewolf- #1 Book in the KINGS series - * * * Two warm hands slip over her shoulders, calloused fingertips ghost over the bone at the nape of her neck, making a shiver run down her spine. Tender hands gather her hair and push the damp lock over her right sh...
