Don't mount your folly m'love, Craven

[Charmaigne]

The savory butterfly of dawn's splendorous yawn spilled through the glass stained windows, its warm werelight inching up her bed and crawling across milky sheets in split blades of blunt warmth striking the curves of her silhouette molded under the blanket in rays of light, its touch brushing her exposed skin delightfully, greedily filling every fiber of the room in its easy-going pace, but also annoyingly piercing her eyelids and dreamy stupor until she had no choice but to take the reigns to her conscience again. Revolting against the cushy feather softness of her pillow that threatened to lull her back to sleep, Charmaigne turned to face the ceiling and sighed away an unseen burden weighting her body against the bed. Brows pressing together in annoyance, she rubbed her temples gently, feeling the past day's events still spinning wildly in her head as they clamored and clogged up her thinking space.

The time dated after that unexpected meeting with good old Pax. Ahh and what pleasant surprises he had brought with him, not that she should complain from getting presents from him at all, but she wished Pax's unintentionally darling gifts could actually be held in her arms and be of some use instead of complicating her days with otherworldly issues -as in, matters outside the Haven. Plus the realm in which the Council dwelled was truly a world slightly different to Haven's. One that she often described as a silly tea party filled with a bunch of sheep in wolf skins bickering over how to manage the herds and rid off the very beasts that try to feast on them along their wreaking parties to slaughter predators of a much larger and dangerous variety.

As far as she knew, the slayer's main targets where the dragons, but her people offered shelter to dragon, human, or beast alike, so long as they where not in league with the King's obscure view on the subject of the winged behemoths, and so they always warded off any of his men who had the misfortune of stumbling into their lands. Of course, she was aligned with her kin, so the Haven and the Order where part-way on the same page, but things are never as simple as they seem. And now her mate was accompanying Pax toward a dispute with the Council? It was not like him to march into such things, but she had inferred it was his bond with the bear that made up his mind for him. And the news of their recent plans was just...

Again, she exhaled another vexing thought coloring her mind with the vivid scenery of the Order faced by Pax and Craven and instead extended her hand to the side of the bed accompanying her left flank, wanting to feel the presence of her beloved still in peace as it tamed her growingly fidgeting nerves, but upon running her hand over the soft texture of the sheets, she turned to look and realized only air resided to her side. A disappointed moan slipped through her lips as she grimaced at the sudden loneliness that rushed crudely into her body like the eery silence of a dead man's coffin. The sheets crippled over the restless turns of her body as she went back to facing the window again, viewing how morning shattered night and painted the sky in pastel dawn colors.

She had to stop fretting over nothing. He could still be elsewhere in the house. Or out working? What time was it? Charmaigne uprighted herself into a sitting position, a glorious bed hair pushed back by her hand as she combed through its center in thought. What the hell, she'll just go and find out and with that thought in mind she relished the chilly spikes tracing her soles and more fully shaking her off sleeps inducement as she placed her feet on the floor, a long shirt of light hues briskly overdressing her body as it vainly pursued her filling thighs and dangled lustfully over her shoulders to show off the creamy expanse of her chest, the bone necklace around her neck, and the upper base of her small breasts, evident that its size was not fit for her lithe figure. And of course it wouldn't be, it was one of her husband's shirts she had ended up using overnight.

Before exiting the sanctuary of their bedroom, Charmaigne did the bed as quick and neat as her hands where capable of and went on the search for her mate around the large house, her limbs anxious and itching to break into a four legged dash, yet her gait remained aloof to its fuss and continued to remain relaxed as she treaded the floorboards. "Love...?" Rose the dainty note of her cords giving way to the uncertain, tense play across the devil's violin. The thought that he had already departed with Pax abruptly struck her across her jaw and she sneered at her foolish, lovesick obedience of yesterday and having left without initially listening to their time of departure. Why had she simply nodded and accepted to his leaving to the Council? She should have objected or at least discussed the matter first. That he thought the people adored her more and would prefer her leadership over his was rubish...Or at least his decision had been signed too suddenly. Yet, now she was the idiot who was left behind to sulk on her own malnourished choice as she sat upon a chair after stumbling into the kitchen to brace her forehead against the palm of her hand in frustration. Tawny green eyes tinted with worry as they slowly melted into ashy grass.

[Craven]

As the flames flickered before him in the hearth, the leader of Wolf Haven watched the shadows cast with unseeing eyes as he contemplated the fate he'd accepted when he'd agreed to go with Pax. Ahh, old Paxon. Craven wasn't confident of much these days, but he knew the bear would always stay with him and cover his back... That was the main reason he'd consented to this venture. Yes, one always talked about confronting the Council, but now... Craven was actually planning to do so.

It was these thoughts that'd drawn him from his warm bed in the darkest hours of the morning, these thoughts that'd called him to leave his place next to Charmaigne and sit alone in the parlor. He'd wanted a run, if only to give his mind a rest from the concerns of the human facade, but Craven did not want his wife to wake in an empty house. The last thing he needed now was her anger; at the moment, he just longed for her company and wise advice. He yearned so much so that he'd considered waking her, but again, Craven didn't want her rage. After over a century of marriage, he'd learned she wasn't exactly a morning person.

As the night started to fade with the rising sun, Craven still sat in the old, wooden chair. Yes, there were more comfortable places to sit, but he needed to think, and to think he needed to stay awake. Even with his heavily burdened mind he was unsure he'd be able to stay conscious if he relaxed in a softer seat. Soon the window to his left was alight with the colors of the dawn, but Craven didn't exactly notice. He was too caught up in his pondering...

"Love...?"

The sweet call of his mate washed over Craven's senses, making him turn and look back from his seat in the parlor towards the direction of her voice. So she was awake? The silence in which her words echoed reminded him of his empty house. Those blasted children of his never stayed long enough to mess up their bedsheets, and Craven was struck with an unusual pang of loneliness. You'd think the wolves would visit their parents, but alas, their visits were few and far between.

With a heavy sigh, Craven looked back to the burning flames and replied, his deep voice cutting through the chilled silence as he sought to let his lifemate know of his whereabouts.

"Yes, darling?"

Standing quickly, Craven stepped lightly through his hallways and rooms, finally catching sight of her curved back in the kitchen. He stopped for the smallest of moments, taking in her sleepy appearance with eyes that burned only for her. Gods. Even after all these years, she still elicted a longing from him that only grew as each day passed. With a growl of possession muted under his breath, he approached her turned back slowly, waiting for her to look at him. When she didn't, he finally wrapped his strong arms around her waist and pulled her close, resting his head atop her shoulder.

His bare, shirtless chest pressed against her nightshirt, his shirt, as he held her there, looking out the window in front of her as he awaited her words. Craven knew she'd speak in time; there was no need to rush the breaking of the comfortable silence that had settled around them. She was his, he belonged to her, and in the passing moments Craven liked to pretend that all was right in his world, that slayers didn't exist and their kinds coexisted peacefully with the humans.

It was not to last, though. Craven was painfully aware of this and thus he waited patiently for his wife, his mate to speak on the matters of her heart.

[Charmaigne]

She remembered their first meeting. Oh how he had read her book wrong. It was apparent in his predatory gaze that she was up for a fierce battle and she had looked forward to it, but in the end she ended up yielding to his powerful image, one that even at this day and age she still savored in every glance and craved for in every breath. How she ended up so tangled up in his love she has forgotten, but she wouldn't want anyone else to live the rest of her life with. It made her ponder. Although she was also against forced breeding like what the Council fiendishly intended, the thought of Pax getting mated to someone was rather amusing. Love is a very fickle mistress that twists you inside out, upside down, rakes your brain and burns your body alive. Who wouldn't want to be kissed by such a sex tingling sensation? All the more to talk some sense into the Council, she surmised, but she still couldn't shake off that bad feeling that clung to the back of her head.

The scoffing shadow depths of the forest bordering the backyard called out her name in its crass play. Picking her blood, enticing her wolfish sister to take over and run amok through the woodlands to her heart's desire. Don't hesitate. Shift. Go. Chase him. Assert yourself! The voices wrestled in her head, adding fuel to the growing headache. If he had truly gone out already on that voyage, it was evident that Charmaige would soon be tracking down her blasted husband and it would be dressed her fine obsidian fur set with carving claws and wolf hungry fangs. Did he not even find it odd that she innocently assented to his leaving? She would need to get that line of vision of his straight if he thinks she's gone soft on him.

Seconds stretched on before her disguised as minutes and minutes disguised as hours. A yawn broke loose from her mouth and her eyes once again weighted down with the dust of sleep. She would still be in her dream world if it hadn't been for a certain someone, but it couldn't helped. She needed to go check where her man was.

To her embarrassment, she had been so caught up in her own cynical plotting that she failed to heed the stealthy steps of the hunter approaching from the back, his presence undetected by her senses until she felt the ripples of his strong arms gently fastening to her waist and the steel of his chest sending vivid chills surging through her back with just a peace of cloth in between. Suddenly starving for his heat, the dying embers within her chest lit up as they miserly sucked his warm breath brushing her skin atop her shoulder where he placed his chin and a brisk sigh released from her lungs relieved, her head tilting softly to the side to rest against his. Her body wanted to writhe senseless in his embrace, the riled loneliness that had jerked her before slowly quenching its thirst in the aroma of his existence so very near her. The brief time where neither exchanged words and they simply basked in their presences was calming to Charmaigne and just knowing that she still had time to prolong his stay brightened her already, but it was not enough to illuminate the dark corners that had expanded through her mind.

"Ahh, you're here. I thought you had already left." Silence is a thing so delicate and shatters so easily, the very palp of her sultry whisper upon its brittle web broke it apart and a sense of relieve radiated through the tunes, echoing softly in one's ear. The feel of his cheek mingled in her palm as she lifted her hand to touch his face while her other free one rested on a firm grip over the knuckles of his bigger, male hands. It did not take more than a minute to wash her next words in inky colors though. "I didn't find you next to me when I woke up. " A voice crystal displeased, dipped in a pout and accentuated by a frown faced by ashen, hazel palettes flowed into the air, ebbing rapidly into a still silence again. Surely, he did not intend to cut even more of their little time together before he would be off to who knows what outcome out of the Order, although Charmaigne was positive that no matter what happened, he would return safe to her arms or god help that bear, she will be on his throat faster and crueler than the devil's wicked incisors.

[Craven]

As Charmaigne leant her head against his, Craven sighed in contentment, his body relaxing against hers as they enjoyed each other's company silently. The quiet didn't last long, though, as she soon spoke.

"Ahh, you're here. I thought you had already left."

Her husky, sensual voice sent fires ablazing throughout his body, and as she reached up to caress his chin Craven rumbled in pleasure, the sound reverberating deep in his chest. At his base, the Alpha was more wolf than human, and in his wife's prescence he was more apt to give in to his other side.

The palm she placed over the top of his hand contrasted sharply with his rough, calloused skin, and so he could feel her closer he spread his fingers, allowing her delicate hand to fit snugly over his. Craven, even after all these years, still marveled at the way they fit so well together. It was as if she was made just for him... his lips turned up in a rueful grin as he remembered how their bodies had melded last night, and he tightened his grip about her waist. Replying to her assumption, he said,

"I told Pax I'd meet him later today in the village... My plan was to spend a few hours with you this morning before I left."

Within a breath of his words she replied, her voice clearly unhappy. Immediately reacting to her tone his brows pulled together in a thoughtful expression.

"I didn't find you next to me when I woke up. "

His voice falling into an eloquent lilt he'd adopted on the travels of his younger years, he answered,

"My apologies, dear heart. I was unable to sleep, and I didn't want to wake you."

After he'd spoken he leaned back slightly, his warm breath falling on her ear as he opted to remain silent a moment more. Seconds passed, but before he allowed her to reply his lips brushed her ear as he added,

"You're even more beautiful when you sleep, Char."

Craven's deep voice vibrated his chest and came out husky, with a throaty quality most common to when he was just waking. They needed to talk... but gods. If they only had a few hours more together he was going to savor every second with her.

[Charmaigne]

At that moment, Craven's responses seemed to give way to some wistfulness to delay his stay a bit longer. But was he keeping in mind she meant only to hold him to argue over the situation? She hoped he wasn't forgetting and she hoped she wouldn't get herself wrapped up in another of her spurs of the moment. It just hit her as she stifled a pleased smile at the thin sound of his purr in response to the gentle brush of her fingers that had traced his jawline. Her soft flesh so easily captured the man's rough texture and it was a wonder how she still found it so enticing. Her fingers just slightly wiggled as they locked in place with his hand.

Somehow, Charmaigne sensed the shift in his expression, provoking her to gently wheel her face more toward his and direct her green-gold inquiring gaze to his grin as her brow arched in unison, just as the belt of his sturdy grip tightened around the slim lines of her waist.

"I told Pax I'd meet him later today in the village... My plan was to spend a few hours with you this morning before I left."

Again with Pax. For a moment there, she had actually forgotten about the bear. He has haunted her thoughts ever since waking up and Craven's presence had wiped him away clear off her mind so she only focused on her beloved and the worry that he was leaving and handing over the Haven for a little while. It's not that handling the land and kin under their protection presented itself a problem to her polished skills and much less a hindrance to the devotion she already poured into her present life. She had scowled then, silently checking on her peeking anger and pouting and protesting out loud using the empty bed as an excuse to vent her unhappiness toward him somehow, although she really wasn't pleased to have woken up by herself. And with a skillful tongue and slick words he answered:

"My apologies, dear heart. I was unable to sleep, and I didn't want to wake you."

What would have happened if she had not woken up on time for his plan to work? Now that those thoughts of his slipped into her mind she venomously pondered how she should have slept the day away just to spite him then. You would have woken me up anyways though, or where you just going to leave if I had not woken up? Was the paperwork that her mind had lined up to issue to him next, the heart of the matter yet to take the slightest tentative step toward their conversation, but he spoke again and pursed her mouth shut with his growling voice and rough breath still tingling the tiny hairs of her neck.

"You're even more beautiful when you sleep, Char."

Was he trying to butter her up? A snicker played across her splayed smile, meaning it partly worked. "Was sweet talking me a part of your plan before you left?" Suddenly finding herself in a more playful mood, she unlocked his embrace but held on to his hands, stood up from the seat and turned around, parting her legs and accommodating her hips against the back of the chair as she sat back down, now facing his righteous physique, wrapping his arms around her body again as she, in turn, then placed her arms over his shoulders and tangled her fingers together behind his neck. "Is my beauty enough to make you stay? Look, I am even prettier up close." Her voice invitingly whispered and latched on to his ears, her eyes dancing with flirtatious love all the while she pulled him closer to her face as if trying to pull on his reigns to simply give in to her whipping seduction. Charmaigne had also become adept at her own repertoire of skills and she was a skillful temptress if she put even a minimum of effort into it; a wild party of ebony locks frivolously framing her face in gentle twists, her lips beckoning, her stare demanding that she be loved and her body only wanting to love him back.

Yet, even through the midsts of this play, she hasn't forgotten her true purpose.

[Craven]

"Was sweet talking me a part of your plan before you left?"

Craven might've been worried at the tone of her words, but the smirk that pulled at her lips soothed his suspicions. As she pulled his restricting arms off of her waist and turned around, he raised his brow in question. What was she.... Ah. As she situated herself again on the chair, this time with her legs spread and her knees brushing his sides, his gaze, suddenly hungry, devoured the sight of her against the light coming in from the rising sun. When her long, lithe fingers locked at the back of his neck, he slid his hands down to grip under each of her knees.

"Is my beauty enough to make you stay? Look, I am even prettier up close."

As she skillfully answered with that seductive reply, Craven scowled the tiniest of bits. His eyes thoughtful, Craven pulled up and back on her knees, forcing her to slide foward until the insides of her thighs her pressed against his the sides of his bare abdomen. After he'd pulled her back and slightly under him, he was left leaning over her, and it was in this position he replied with a growl,

"Magnificent, Unmatched, & Breath-Taking are words I would descibe you as, love. Never merely pretty."

It was obvious her seduction was working, but the slight flaw in her plan was that Craven, although he was putty in her capable hands, knew what was happening and allowed it. He was, by no means, unwilling.

Leaning over her, with his lips merely inches from hers, Craven finally replied to her question. His eyes, no longer hazel, were a bubbling, swirling gold, and one could almost say the great wolf was present in his gaze.

"Char, if it were only a question of your beauty I would never leave. As it is, I have to do this; Pax needs my help, and you know I can't just let him go alone. He's helped us in times of need, and I would be warring against my very soul if I refused to assist him in this."

His words were toned down to a smooth whisper, and as he spoke his lips brushed hers a few times, an inviting temptation. Craven knew she wasn't so happy about this, but what was he to do? As he waited, he caressed the soft, velvety skin of her thigh with his thumb. Taking a moment, he let his gaze slide down to the legs he was supporting, and his groin tightened at the sight of her bare upper legs. Damn that shirt... it concealed too much, in his opinion. Of course, had anyone else been in the house with them, he might've thought differently, but with the manor to themselves, well, he was resisting the urge to tear the shirt straight down the middle.

Looking back up to her eyes, he grinned mischieviously, like a boy who was caught eating a prized dessert. He knew she'd caught his surveying, and he wasn't sure what her reaction would be. It always depended on her mood...

[Charmaigne]

Damn... It seems the best she could do really was just make him stay a bit longer -to play he would surmise. Well, she knew it was difficult to bend steel, which was what her hubby was made off. Unyielding steel and raw power spilling from every ripple caused by even the gentliest of his body movements. He was a beast in the essence of the word, yet also the loving man she could not live without. Both the beast and the man. Only the two together could satiate her needs.

Now it seems she was being tangled up in his grasp little by little. His act almost sent a shiver up her shilly thihgs at the warmer touch of his hard midsection, the flesh unhindered by any piece of cloth, and she impatiently wanted to draw shapes on it with her fingers, but she was forced to keep them locked around his neck to keep her balance as his framework slightly loomed over hers and she leaned underneath. She took a lovely moment to contemplate the masculine lines of his upper body and the jaw she wanted to bed butterfly soft kisses on.

"Magnificent, Unmatched, & Breath-Taking are words I would descibe you as, love. Never merely pretty."

Charmaigne would have found it annoying if it had been any other man reciting such words to her beauty, which couldn't care less for it so long as it was enough to please her husband, but she allowed Craven to breathe as much flattery as he wished. Words dipped in the tune of his voice and scented with his breath always managed to tighten her chest up to certain points. But their effects could only reach her for so long, even if it was him. Luckily, he's learned how to use them to their full purpose and good timings -at most times.

Surely, you don't want me to build up an ego here. Is what her lips had poised themselves to murmur back to him, but as he continued inching ever closer until his lips hung villainously above her own plump, chery kissers, she was instead left wordless and possesed by an urge to kiss him as her own hazel gaze was consumed by his golden suns. However and to her displeasure, his next words slowly killed her mood.

"Char, if it were only a question of your beauty I would never leave. As it is, I have to do this; Pax needs my help, and you know I can't just let him go alone. He's helped us in times of need, and I would be warring against my very soul if I refused to assist him in this."

There was no immediate reaction. Her lips still tingled by his teasing lips and the gentle motions going on down below warmed where he carressed, but her mind was hellishly made up now and currently, its will reigned supreme over bodily temptation.

She was quick to percieve the shift her bare legs where provoking in his body. It sent a decievingly, sweet-laced smile running a short length of her lips. "You're right. Pax is our dear friend and we must not ignore him in his hour of need. Even if he intends to drag you to that cluster of sheperds." She replied, still holding on to her false smile, suddenly uprighting herself in the motion of breaking away from his grip and patting his shoulders as if giving him a long awaited permision. "I'm being selfish. Don't mind me." She continued, sending him away with a sway of her palm while she got up from the seat and began busying herself in search for something that could pass by as morning food. "I guess his reason can't be pushed aside either. I would be very upset too if I was thrust into a marriage I didn't wish for." She would surely feel guilty if she did somehow kept Craven at home just for her selfish need to have him all to herself too, now that she thought about it. "I'm sure he knows what I'd do to him if you where to get so much as a single scratch anyways."

[Craven]

"You're right. Pax is our dear friend and we must not ignore him in his hour of need. Even if he intends to drag you to that cluster of sheperds."

For the smallest of seconds Craven wanted to sigh in relief, but then he caught the forced nature of her smile, the undercurrent her words carried. He cursed mentally, his sharp eyes studying her, knowing full well this was another of her ploys. Oh, Slaen, he hated it when she did this. As she loose dher grip and sat up, he leaned back himself, and at her next words his eyes narrowed.

"I'm being selfish. Don't mind me."

Damn it. She wanted him to mind, otherwise she wouldn't have tried to persuade him to begin with. Charmaigne was too much like him to bend without a fight. Hell, she usually didn't give at all...

"I guess his reason can't be pushed aside either. I would be very upset too if I was thrust into a marriage I didn't wish for."

With the sway of her palm, Craven nearly growled, the sound instead coming out as a low rumble in his chest. She knew exactly what she was doing, dammit, and Craven loathed the way it affected him. He would tear down the moon and stars if it would only please her, and she wanted to keep him from going with Paxon to face the council? Dammit.

"I'm sure he knows what I'd do to him if you were to get so much as a single scratch anyways."

As she poked around the kitchen, Craven just watched, the frustration in his chest a physical burn. She was the only one who ever drew such violent emotions out of him, but then again she was the one who shared his spirit, who was as much a part of him as his wolf soul, and as such she knew him better than he did himself.

"Don't do this, Charmaigne." His voice was muted, velvet thunder caressing her senses. "I've never done anything to make you intentionally unhappy, and I don't want to start now. Please, love... Can't you see that I have to do this?" He walked up to her as she rummaged through the kitchen, and reached out from behind her, placing his palms over her hands and intertwining their fingers. His back was hot against hers, and he leaned into her, more of a suggesstion than a demand.

"Don't get all compliant on me. I've known you too long for you to start lying to me now." Those words held more command than his last, but it really could mean nothing to the one he shared the authority with. Craven's words echoed through his chest and slid over the room, and after a moment the big wolf leaned in to place his mouth over her ear. Breathing out, he sent warm air over the soft, sensitive skin there, sending tendrils of her silky hair blowing in the air current.