Page 88 of Rugger: The Huntress

Confliction.

Confusion.

Despair.

Doubt.

Grief.

Pain.

Life had been generous to her family, but she still managed to procure the brokenness that experience produced in droves. She wasn’t exempt and neither was anyone else in her immediate circle. The death of their father, capturing of the head of their organization, and relocating of their entire family was evidence that hardships and hurt didn’t have a tax bracket preference.

Weariness.

Loneliness.

Unease.

Sadness.

Melancholy.

She was a beautiful mess. Chaotic poetry. A distressed canvas. Treasure from the ruins. And whether it had been made clear or not, she was mine. My beautiful mess. My chaotic poetry. My distressed canvas. My treasure from the ruins.

“Sadness doesn’t always last.”

My voice carried across the nearly empty room, taking her by surprise. She leaned into the arm she’d lifted. The back of her right hand supported her chin as her gaze stripped me bare.

Nothing came from her. Nothing but longing, curious gazing. A smirk creased the corners of her mouth as she turned back toward the fire and then back toward me.

She was pondering and although silently, I could hear her loudly. The kettle began whispering in the distance. I backtracked toward the stove, eyes still planted firmly on Gazelle. I poured the hot water into the glass mug and placed the kettle on the counter.

At a glance, I discovered the purple hues of the lavender had tinted the water. Chamomile added more flavor while hibiscus aided in the coloration process. A dark, deep purple was the result.

“Honey?”

A nod sufficed. Her words were still brewing. I opened the cabinet to retrieve the organic honey-filled jar. With the spoon from the utensil drawer, I scooped up a healthy serving and dumped it into the hot mixture. I began stirring as I repositioned the honey on the shelf.

When my eyes reached her again, contentment covered me. She observed the making of her beverage, staring blankly at the spoon as it went around and around. A long, exaggerated blink cleared the path for her words to escape her.

“Then, how long does it last?”

I removed the spoon and placed it into the sterilizer that would remove traces of germs and DNA. My unhurried stride contradicted my true desires. I wanted her near me much sooner than I’d reach her. Nevertheless, I kept my pace, careful with the mug in my hand.

My palm pressed against her contracted bicep. Her hand widened to receive the cup. Once it was secured in her hand, I rounded her. My arms slid underneath hers, taking their position in front of her as I planted a kiss on her neck.

“As long as it takes until something deeper, more promising confronts it.”

“Such as–”

“Happiness. Comfort. Peace. Joy.Love.”

“Things that–”

“I want to bring you. Things that I will bring you.”

The sharpness of her tongue was an expectation of mine. However, I received silence instead. She sipped the tea in her hand before leaning back into me, laying her head against my right shoulder.

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