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“Maybe, maybe not. Maybe firearms aren’t the answer. Maybe you need a little nudge, or a walk down the memory lane, huh? Maybe you need a taste of old fear to get that tongue moving.”

"Not in this fucking lifetime", I roar and strike his hand with the rock just as she hurls the dirt into his eyes, taking him by surprise. The rock hits his hands with enough force to make him stumble and drop his gun. It was all the opportunity I needed, as I leap on him, knocking him off his toes. I was on him in a heartbeat, pummeling his face with quick steady fists, and he goes down without much struggle, the weak bastard. I break his nose and his front teeth after splitting his lips, then proceed to demolish the rest of him with vigorous, random blows. In a distant far off world, I could hear the faint echoes of police sirens, of people crying and screaming, of someone sobbing for me to stop. But I couldn't stop. I do not stop until two pairs of restraining arms lift me off him, until all that is left of him is a bleeding mess on the ground. I watch two police officers carry him inside the police van. Watch two others dragging a handcuffed Taylor behind him. Watch my own feet drag me towards him in quick hurried steps, feel the need rise up inside me, the need to repeat that treatment on him too, feel too, the constraining cover of my father's arms. And then I feel something that melts in a burst of clarity, replacing it with a soothing edge of relief and gratitude. I feel the whispery touch of a hand in mine, and the comforting weight of a body against my own. And my world is back on its orbit.

It was the last thing I remembered feeling that day.

*****************************************

3 years later

Beth

It took seven years and countless therapies for me to reach where I am today. And I’d gladly go through each one of those years and every one of those therapies if it meant I could have this dance,

Our first dance as man and wife.

I was no longer just Elizabeth Whitfield, but Elizabeth Whitfield Tanner, wife of Nicholas Tanner, my precious beautiful husband. (Though the beautiful part would likely get me in trouble if repeated in present company)

The road to love isn’t easy. Ours was particularly difficult. But with slow steady steps, we finally got there. Coming to Cider valley was the best decision of my life, even though I’d always regret causing pain to my family.

I had been facing my demons for quite some time, but I had no idea how badly it’ll effect Nicholas. It was hard on him. Very hard. But we had each other, and we pulled each through. And now, we’ll always have each other.

Ryder and Taylor were tried by the valley council, found guilty and sentenced to a term of life imprisonment within two months of the first hearing. Nicholas’ contacts from his law firm came through for us, and together, with the entire valley standing
with us
, a speedy judgment was procured. Though Nicholas wasn’t particularly satisfied with them left alive.

Kate suffered acutely. And though I tried every way I could to convince her that she was completely blameless in this, I knew there were times when she still blamed herself. With a lie exposed came death. Of hope, of trust and love, and that heady feeling of belonging which makes a person complete. Kate had felt that love crumble, felt the love shatter to pieces. And even though she vows to never love again, I know Nicholas and I will somehow convince her otherwise. I'm kinda good that way.

Speaking of, dad and Nicholas had been on a strange impasse for a while. Overly polite and overly cautious, like two strangers in a train. It continued that way, until aunt Clare, my beautiful mother in law, and the mother of my soul, sat them down and explained to them to let bygones be bygones. Turned out, dad had been blaming himself all these years for manipulating me into visiting him, and Nick was on a guilt trip of his own, blaming himself for being ‘selfish' and callous' and not seeing me off to the airport personally. Those two had been foolishly blaming themselves all this time for things that were utterly beyond our control, and were told so, by my aunt Clare, in thoroughly brusque and businesslike tone I might add, and to hug it out. Which they did, to our mutual delight.

My mother in law is extremely intelligent and intuitive, and a very very intimidating woman.

There were times when I escaped into my shell, times when I couldn't bear to be touched. Those were the days when Nick was extra patient, coaxing me out of my shell with infinite love and patience. We talked, we laughed, we held hands. We shared memories and made new ones. Nick was everywhere, tempting me with bicycle rides to my favorite pastry shop, luring me with my favorite Disney movies (he suffered quite a lot of chick flicks too), wheedling me into taking long moonlight walks by the valley, and seducing me with kisses under the cover of the stars. But for all the kisses that we shared, he never once hinted towards something more,,,intimate.

But he did get down on one knee like a romantic knight, so all was forgotten.

Much to my quickly thinning patience.

The wedding ceremony had taken place at the old traditional valley church and it was beautiful and breathtaking with the entire valley in attendance. Our vows were short and sweet, written in our own words, and had brought tears to my eyes as we finished saying them. I was expecting myself to tear up, but what surprised me was the sheen of sheer emotion in
his
eyes, my gorgeous darling husband.

And yeah, I’m not getting tired of saying that, any time soon.

Aunt Clare, I mean mom, (and that was my something new) had given me her mother's pearls, for my something old, while Kate gave me her teardrop earrings for my something borrowed. My something blue, was given to me by my husband (see, not getting tired of that one), who wrote me a letter full of somethings old and new, and a lot of things so naughty, it made me blush like a carrot while my made of honor stood howling with laughter for a full ten minutes.

So here I was, dancing at my reception at Grandma Nettie’s gardens (she would’ve liked that, don’t you think?), swaying in his arms, and loving each and every minute of it.

I was, however, getting a little tired of the dancing in anticipation
of tonight
.

"When are all these people going to leave Nicholas? My feet are killing me", I whispered in my husband dd dd's ears.

"Actually Beth, they can't leave before do", he replied, leaning his face down to kiss me. We were doing that a lot today too. And if I had my way, we'll be doing more of that, soon.

"Then why aren't we leaving," I asked again, while he shook his head and gave me a nervous smile.

“Actually__ umm__ Beth__ I wanted to talk to you about something. Just hear me out okay”, he began, and there was that nervousness again.

And now
I
was nervous.

“Beth, today when I gave you that blue nightgown, it didn’t mean anything. I mean, it was just a gift. I didn’t mean to imply___hell__I’m not expecting any action tonight”, he explained and my stomach dropped.

What did he mean by that. Did he change his mind, after all? Didn’t he want to___

“Hey,
hey Beth
, come on”, he whispered, nudging my face towards his, when I turned it away “Don’t give me that look. Talk to me”, he pleaded. And all my fears came pouring out.

“Why don’t you___ Don’t you want me?” I whispered, and his shook his again.

"Beth, I want you so much, I ache with it. I can't sleep for wanting you. I'd have married you straight out of high school if I could, and we'd be an old married couple by now, and the wanting wouldn't have stopped. I want you with an intensity that frightens me. All the love, the longing and the crazy heady feelings, and that rush of emotions which threaten to choke me every time I'm with you. I'm scared to let go with you. I’m scared I won’t be able to control myself and I’ll hurt you”, he explained, and I sighed with relief, all the nervousness and anxiety leaving me at once. If I could do nothing else, I could certainly disabuse my over protective husband of that particular burden at least.

“Nicholas, you can’t hurt me, and I’m not scared of a few bruises. I love you and I want to be with you. And I don’t want you to control yourself. Not with me. In fact, I’m looking forward to a few bruises tonight”, I whispered, tilting his face towards mine for a kiss, ignoring the rapidly spreading blush on my cheeks.

He lifted me up in his arms and carried me across the gardens, oblivious to the chorus of hoots and cheers that went up in the crowd.

"Beth", he murmured with a mixture of deep love and pure lust in his eyes, before groaning and pulling me towards him for another long and deep one. Our tongues tangled in a celebration of togetherness and my breath got caught somewhere in my throat at the wonderful sensations coursing through me, as he pressed against me, every inch of him against every inch of me.

"You have to tell me to stop. If it starts to hurt, you have to tell me", he managed to speak, before dragging those gorgeous lips of his against my cheeks, my jaw line, my neck, my....

"Beth"? he whispered, having gotten no response to his previous query. I quickly dismissed his foolish notions and drag his mouth to mine.

"I'm not going to", I murmured against his lips, "Don't you dare stop. Eight years I've waited for this and nothing about this is going to hurt me. Your touch heals me, Nick. I love you and I want this. Stop talking about stopping and kiss me."

I lost my clothes somewhere in the midst of the all the soul-shattering kisses, while Nick quickly discarded his before joining me underneath the covers.

And late that night, when everything was fast and everything was slow, when time was soft velvet to my skin, when the bright red flames of a burning candle dulled to a blue, we became one, losing control together.

****************

The end

Write to me

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Zara
Santaf Adair

Coming soon by Zara Santaf

- Across borders

Chapter 1

“Are we there yet?”

No answer.

“How long till we reach there?”

No answer.

“It won’t be so bad, don’t worry”, I say, letting out a loud sleepy yawn before leisurely stretching my arm and back muscles.

This time I do get an answer. Not a verbal one. A silent threatening one in the form of an angry glare. I quickly withdraw my arms. They may have been numb at the moment, cramped up in a car for the past three hours or so, but at least they're functional. I like having them around. The man driving the car doesn't look like he shares my opinion.

“Keep your eyes on the road, sir. You can glare at me later”, I remind him stoically when he makes no attempt to shift his focus.

The man, I should really stop calling him that. Caleb Lamarck Daniels intensifies his scowl if such a thing is possible, and bares his white gleaming teeth at me. He must have been a werewolf in another life. Then again, I don’t believe in multiple lives. One is one more than is required, thank you very much.

“I think you…”


"Not one more word", he finally speaks in that deep manly baritone of his I've come to recognize in the past forty-eight hours. Not that he appears to use it often. In fact, if I were to so infrequently exercise mine, my vocal cords would get rusted of sheer disuse.

“Sir, don’t you think you should do me the courtesy of telling me what to expect from your sister? If she shares your penchant for violence, I think it’ll be better to warn her beforehand of the impending doom than to bring apocalypse at her doorstep."