His, Eternally [18+]

Chapter Thirty-Two: Scar Tissue

Indie's Point of View:

I rested my face on his broad shoulder, feeling the exhaustion hit me. The way he smelled was intoxicating, and with each inhale I found myself being lured further into my dream state. His warm hands were splayed across my waist, rubbing soothing patterns with his thumb over the hoodie I wore. I was so comfortable, I never wanted this to end. All of my anger I had so recently felt towards him evaporated into the air, as I gave into his touch. "Indie," He whispered lowly into my ear, making me shiver. "You must rest, puella..." [Sweetheart.] He lifted me up, my legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

"No, not tired. Please stay." I was being bold, and I felt strangely proud of myself. He set me down on the bed, removing my arms from his neck; making me want to groan in disapproval. "I'm right here. Would you like me to lay with you?" I smiled lightly through my heavy eyelids, nodding before I saw a smile tug at his lips. My bed was small, so I had to make room for him — considering the fact that he took up a fair amount of space. He laid down next to me, making my heart flutter once again. I was nervous, as I always was around him. What if I snored? Damnit. Let's just hope I don't.

I gasped lightly when he grabbed me and lifted me so that I was practically on top of him. "You were halfway off of the bed." He replied, almost as if he were reading my thoughts. My eyes widened and my face flushed as I saw him move discreetly, removing his shirt. Thankfully, he couldn't see me drooling over him. His body was magnificent — art, truly. His shoulders were muscular and broad, and the muscles of his abdomen poked through prominently. I blushed even more furiously when I saw the deep, chiseled V-line right above his jeans. I think I could pass out from just looking at him. He was so strong, and could make anyone submit to him at any moment. To be frank, he was terrifying. His let alone presence made people obey him, and fall at their knees from the intimidation he emitted.

However, due to the way he acted around me, it made me feel so incredibly special and important.

He shifted back under me, pulling me to the position we were in before. Over half of my body was on him, and I suddenly began to wonder if this was even comfortable for him. I could be crushing him right now by my weight, but I dusted off the self-deprecating thoughts. His bare chest felt warm on my face, as I admired the way the moonlight illuminated the lines on his body. He had scars, many of them — running up his chest, abdomen and back.

"What happened here?" He tensed up as I gently touched one of the raised scars. I pulled my hand away, afraid to make him feel uncomfortable.

"My father, he would whip me often as a child when I disobeyed him." He whispered, stroking my hair. My face fell, I had no idea. My heart suddenly ached for him, someone had hurt him? His own father, too? I frowned, cautiously bringing my fingertips to the scar that ran down his chest. I genuinely could not believe my boldness, but I let the feeling in freely. Goosebumps rose on his skin underneath my fingers, making me feel familiar butterflies in the pits of my belly. I didn't know what to say in response to what he had told me, so I just buried my face deeper into his chest.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." Damn, I really was awkward as hell. "Cordis vestri, sicut et illud est quasi aurum purissimum." [Your heart, it is as pure as gold.]

I obviously couldn't understand what he had said, but due to the tone of husky voice, I knew it was something kind. As I traced circles patterns over his chest, he winced — making me hesitantly pull back.

"Did I do something?" I asked, suddenly worried and a bit embarrassed. Maybe I was being too touchy, but it was so hard not to be in this moment. After knowing him for so long, I had finally truly let my guard down around him. Even when he had made me so angry, I still wanted him. It was pathetic, I know, but it's as if we were physically connected. It was like my heart and his heart had strings of metaphorical yarn extending to one another, pulling me in deeper to him.  He shook his head, running his hand through my slightly tangled hair.

"No, dulce puella, I just am not used to it." I nodded slightly, moving my hand away before he grasped my wrist gently, placing it back on his strong chest. My face was seriously constantly on fire around him, especially now considering the fact that there was so much physical contact. I wanted to hum in happiness, but everything seemed far too good to be true.

"You speak Latin, yeah?" I asked curiously.

"Most weres do. I grew up around it, it was my first language. My mother and father spoke that only around me."

"Tell me of your mother and father," I looked at him with curious eyes. "Only if you're comfortable to do so." He ran his fingers through the dip of shoulder blades, giving me goosebumps once again, as he was silent momentarily to gather his thoughts.

"I was not very close with my father, he was very hard on me and Mila as children. He was the implied king of the supernatural in the werewolf realm, so he lacked humanity often. He had seen too much — he knew this world was dangerous, especially for outsiders such as weres. He whipped me often, so our relationship was mostly bloody shirts, scar tissue, and arguments. I understand now that he cared for me, possibly loved me, even; but he had no way of showing it. My mother died in childbirth, so he became weak over years until he passed," He breathed out. "Mates cannot live without one another. Losing your soul mate eats away at your heart, your soul, your humanity. It deteriorates your muscles and weakens you until you pass. It is inevitable."

My eyes grew in shock — if one mate died, the other would die as well over time. My breath hitched, the room suddenly feeling much smaller than it had before. That was absolutely terrifying. At this point in my life, it was impossible to imagine Thaddeus without it. As odd as it sounds, despite him still being so mysterious to me, I couldn't imagine him just not being here on earth with me.

"He died from grief." I whispered, sitting up. His hand was placed on the small of my back, pressing tighter now. "Yes, little one, he did." I felt sorrowful for Thaddeus, but I tried not to show it. I knew that pitying someone wasn't the best comforter, so I just waited and listened.

"My mother's name was Esperanza." I knew he hadn't mentioned his father's name, due to the fact that it was probably difficult to discuss — considering the rocky, tumultuous relationship they had had. He spoke of her with love, and despite my curiosity of her, I decided against asking more of her. I didn't want to push him to discuss things that brought out sadness in him. My heart tinged, making me touch my chest and furrow my brows.

"You felt that?" He asked, moving his hand my face. I looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Did you heart feel like it was physically aching for a moment?" I nodded, waiting for him to continue.

"It's the mate pull. My heart did the same. Our feelings are beginning to come interlocked." Our heart strings were truly attached, pulling on another.

"Why just now?"

"We have grown closer, Indie. I had been trying to display my feelings for you, but I didn't want to push my boundaries. That's how I know you're beginning to trust me; if you start to feel my emotions. That's how I knew to come over here, because I felt your need for me."

I didn't know what to do with the information he had just told me. He had lost both of his parents — he had a bad relationship with his father before he passed. I could sense his pain, but it was covered and kept away. I knew he was trying to keep from his emotions being brought to far to the surface; due to his hard facade he wished to maintain. Instead of trying to talk, I wrapped my arms around him yet again.

A purr-like noise came from his chest, making me smile. He pulled me closer to him, so that all of my body weight was on him.

He always wanted to be closer, I had noticed.