Unrequited (by Rylan Hunter)
Benedict scowled as his eyes skimmed the room around him, taking in the peeling wallpaper, the numerous stains on the ceiling and the carpet that appeared to be nothing more than frayed threads clinging with tired desperation to the floor beneath. The cabin was a filthy box located in one of the less populated areas of Quebec. Definitely not a place seen by tourists unless they got lost and discovered that even outward charm has dirty little secrets.
Thick muscles knotted and flexed as Benedict paced the room, clenching and unclenching his fists. He wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for Alec, the jealous bastard. Just because he had nobody special in his life was no good reason to punish others for finding love. It wasn’t fair. Benedict’s eyes softened slightly as he glanced over at his chosen resting on the pallet of blankets in the corner.
“You deserve wine and moonlight, my own,” he whispered quietly so as not to disturb. “And you will have it one day … I promise you that.”
Benedict wasn’t sure when things had started to fall apart but he did recall the cold look in Alec’s eyes when he was told that he was no longer welcome in the pack. He was given one hour to gather his things together and leave. Alec had watched him the entire time as if expecting him to steal something as the others, all traitors, never said a word. Benedict had never felt a particular closeness with Alec but he had always felt a bond with Jules who was friendlier and more accepting of everyone. But Jules just stood there with a blank look in his eyes and never said a word. Benedict’s face burned with the stain of humiliation when he recalled the way he felt as he walked away from the house while the entire pack watched with flat stares. He would have his revenge.
Today, though, was set aside for the object of his infatuation. Benedict crossed the room, settling down on the floor to stroke the damp hair away from the beautiful face that he loved. Gentle fingers caressed the skin that he couldn’t seem to get enough of. They had shared a full moon together and the exhaustion was apparent in the way the still figure never stirred even as he touched and held and adored the pale flesh beneath his hands.
Benedict recalled the moment he first saw the young man with dark curls gathering pebbles on the empty bank of the river as the sun sleepily struggled to breach the eastern horizon. It had been fate that drew his eyes to the uniquely formed rock with strange markings nestled in the wet dirt and the smile that had forced the impossibly perfect lips to curve upward when he shared the found treasure nearly stopped Benedict’s heart. He was an artist, the young man explained, who made his living from creating intricate collages using local objects for the tourists who were hoping to take a piece of Quebec home with them. Every word that fell from those lips was music to Benedict’s sensitive ears and his nose detected hints of soap, sweat and earth on the unblemished skin. It was a fragrance unique to the artist and Benedict marked it in his memory knowing that he would use his gifts to track down the young man if he needed to.
And now here he was, decorating the blankets beneath him, dark lashes resting on ivory cheeks. Benedict couldn’t get enough of looking, touching, smelling … tasting. The wolf inside growled softly at the frustration in not being able to provide properly for his mate. It wasn’t supposed to be this way but Benedict could be patient. Alec would pay for every cold night, every hungry moment that his chosen suffered. He would pay in ways he never imagined. Alec would learn what it meant to writhe helplessly in pain and be humiliated. Jules would be taught a lesson as well but Benedict intended to let the younger wolf live if only to force him to remember every day that there was a price for betrayal.
“You belong to me now,” the wolf murmured. “Mine … forever, and anyone that tries to take you away will have every maggot-infested inch of skin stripped from them in thin bloody pieces while they scream and beg and … plead. I’ll claw their festering hearts from them and present each dripping muscle to you as proof of my love.”
Benedict nuzzled the broad shoulder, rubbing his cheek affectionately up and down the cool skin. He resisted the temptation to nip; his mate needed to rest from the long night before. It had been an exhilarating night; the full moon, the silvery light cutting through the trees where they ran and played. It was a night that Benedict knew he would remember forever.
“You were so convincing last night. Your eyes told me what you couldn’t say and I knew with everything that you gave me that you needed to be with me as much as I needed to find you. And now we’re here again.”
Benedict licked a trail along the scruffy cheek, marking the young man with his scent although he didn’t need to; the quiet figure was already drowning in it.
“And didn’t we have fun?” Benedict whispered against pale lips. “You still love to play your favorite game of hide and seek but I found you, didn’t I? Your screams were so perfect and if I didn’t already know how much you wanted me I might have believed you were actually scared. You have a talent for acting … that terrified look in your eyes but I knew the truth hidden beneath it.”
The wolf lightly ran jagged fingernails across the specks of crimson flakes still clinging to porcelain skin. He had spent a great deal of time lapping up the remnants of their special moments together. In the glare of the light shining harshly from the exposed bulb, Benedict could see he hadn’t done a very thorough job. It didn’t matter. He had a lifetime to search out every hidden spot and lavish it with attention. Benedict longed to gather the sleeping figure into his arms and hold him close but the young man was still playing games and refused to cuddle, instead keeping his body stiff and locked rigidly into place. Benedict smiled to himself. They had been here before and he knew that eventually his mate would give in and submit fluidly into his embrace. He always did. The day would come, of course, when his chosen one would disappear once more, leaving crude discolored sticks as the only reminder of his existence, but Benedict always managed to find him again. The hair might be a different color or maybe the eyes; he might be thinner or shorter but that was also a part of the game. And Benedict always found him.
Tomorrow the wolf would begin his plan for vengeance against Alec but today … today was reserved only for his mate. Lying down alongside the quiet figure, Benedict smoothed the black, ragged edges of torn skin lovingly. The stillness in the air was broken only by contented sighs and whispers.
“I found you … again.”
Photography by Picsessions Photography
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]Unrequited (by Rylan Hunter),