Meadow

Nyimara was not a fool. The softness in Raksha’s eyes as she approached does not go unnoticed and though she did her best to keep the mask of indifference firmly in place, there is disgust in her eyes. How could the girl be so naive? So foolish? It was clear as the gray blue skies above that Bjorn had come upon Raksha with the same desire to woo her into submission and servitude as she herself had once been victim to. He was the poison in her veins and the weakness that she tried desperately to hide from the rest of the world and claw from her breast when no one was looking. The softness in Raksha’s eyes is sickening and Nyimara feels the bile building in her throat. She knew better. A vicious growl threatens to erupt from her lungs as she sends her daughter a hard glare, small fluted ears buried beneath the thick mantle of silver white tresses that cascade down both sides of her sleek mahogany neck. She knew better. How many times had Nyimara been forced to reiterate to the red mare that Bjorn did not deserve her adoration? How many times had she been forced to relive the moment she had found the blue eyed girl crying on the shores of Tinuvel when he left her behind? Despite her hard words, it was clear that Raksha still held Bjorn in reverence. It infuriated her even further. It was Nyimara that bore her into this world, it was she who nursed her and guarded her and protected her as a child. It was Nyimara who taught her how to be a mare in this world and not some stallion’s meek lamb. Raksha was her mother’s daughter, her only claim to the children of Bjorn and despite her best attempts, the red mare was weak.

Bjorn speaks now, drawing her gaze from the petite red woman at her side and to his icy blue gaze. Once more she feels the spell that he had over her begin to take effect. Once more the memories of their sweating bodies twined together in the ocean waves surface in her mind. Once more the memories of her joyous laughter as they raced headlong down the white sandy beaches rings in her ears. Once more she can see the foam flecked muscles ripple beneath his body as he raced at her side, his fur just barely brushing against her own as they charged up the rocky cliff face with reckless abandon, the whipping wind leaving them breathless and exhilarated all in the same moment. In this moment, staring into his cold, uncaring eyes, she can feel the adrenaline begin to pulse once more through her veins. Bjorn as he once was. Bjorn, her lover.

He replies to her snide remark with disgust. Anger boils beneath the multifaceted hues of his azul eyes as his dark ears pin beneath the mantle of his charcoal mane. Defiantly he raises his proud head as though he hoped to subdue her with his harsh words and downcast glance but it does nothing more than infuriate her further. Dark eyes glitter beneath the veil of her pale forelock as Nyimara draws her lips back into a sneer. ”I was once filled with trust too and look where that got me? Abandoned and left to fend for myself AND my children.” she growls, her long alabaster tail snapping audible against her supple hips. Despite his best attempt to wound her ego, Nyimara lets the beast wrap itself even tighter around her heart. She was still beautiful, it whispered. Why else would stallions vie for her attention? The memory of Rafe flashes through her mind, the lust filled hunger in his eyes as he roamed over each inch of her flesh and the satisfaction she felt in the variety of lude comments that had filled their conversation. The brindled stallion was no Bjorn, but she did not need him, she could not rely on him. He was the one marred and tainted.

He speaks again, drawing her once more from her thoughts. Small fluted ears perk forward as he mentioned their children here. Despite her best attempts to remain impassive, Nyimara cannot help but to draw her gaze from him, searching through the open meadow and connecting treelines for some sign of the children she had borne. Sigurdr and Skogrsa both were beautiful, much more distinctive in their looks than her plain Raksha. The memory of her children is etched into every fiber of her being but try as she might, she senses no presence that calls to her. Renewed hatred burns in her eyes as she turns her glare back on Bjorn’s handsome face, ”Liar.” she growls, venom coating her words in finality. A single brow rises deftly, as if she expected him to rise to the challenge she planted before him and summon the children she missed so desperately. The children he had robbed from her.

Again she taunts him, stepping close to his body, the desperate plea of Raksha falling on deaf ears. A cynical smile curves across her ashen lips as she presses them against his neck in a tender kiss, much like the affections she had pressed against his skin in the past. Instead of recoiling within his barriers however, this time, Bjorn rises to meet her again. He curls his muscular neck against her own, the warmth of his flesh inviting. His hot breath whispers against the sensitive hairs of her ears, drawing them up from the curling tendrils of her mane and pressing them forward with desperation. Her body screamed for him, the hunger and need to touch him overpowering. Despite herself, she inhales a deep breath of his skin, savoring the exotic spice palate that lingers there and letting her memory play vividly in her mind.

Siobhan.

Like a blast of ice and snow on her skin, the name breaks the spell that she bound herself in. Dark eyes widen as she jerks her head from him, ears falling flat against her skull as lips peel back into a snarl. Siobhan. The damned red bitch. A throaty growl echoes in her lungs as she turns her hardened gaze once more on him. ”That bitch deserved everything she got… everything she will get.” she purrs her tones dripping with the hatred that pulsed through her veins. The threat in her voice was real and to the gods she hoped he returned to her in warning. Nyimara was not done with her yet. She would pay for the family that she ruined, Nyimara would make certain of that!

His husky words are thick with emotion now as he taunts her, toying with whatever emotions bound her heart to his. Fear prickles against her skin like the air before a lightning storm, her body reacting to the emotions that wash over her. She wanted him. Desperately she wanted to keep this feeling of completeness, of protection and devotion and adoration. Desperately she wanted to see his eyes shining as they once had. He had been her first, her true love and her everything.

His love is a fickle thing. His adoration swayed as easily as the passing breeze. He had made her feel complete, made her feel as though she were everything to him, his mate, his lover, his soul, and then as quickly as the seed he planted in her belly it was gone. Tigerlilly had been next, and then Siobhan after and countless others that Nyimara only needed to pin her ears or show her teeth to convince them to back off. It was only right for stallions to have a large harem of mares at their beck and call but Nyimara expected to be the first, the only, the mate.

”Poison.” she hisses, her sleek serpentine arching as she withdraws her touch from his. Brows furrow together as she snakes her finely dished head forward to snap at his lips with a clacking of her teeth. ”You are nothing more than a declawed bear. No warrior. No king. You spit words of poison as though it is the truth. You hurt all in your path.” she growls, her tenor dropping in octave as she takes a stalking step closer to him, lifting her crown proudly, her long silver white tail held high like a banner above her hips. A sneer curls over her lips as she hardens her gaze on him once more, masking the hurt and the pain and the love that threatened to spill forth from her soul. ”We can never be together. You… you stink of them. Of her!” the words are spat from her lips. The beast beckons to her now, recognizing the pulse of life in the vein running along his neck and how delicious it would taste on her tongue. If she ended him, if she destroyed him, finally she would be free from the hurt and the pain that bottled up within her, it whispers. If only she would reach out and grasp the opportunity that laid itself before her like the flash of his smoke dusted skin.

Addiction. That is what he is. Even as the beast forces her to take a step towards him, her heart beckons her back. Proudly she gives her head a shake, ridding her mind of the memories that rise to the surface. No! No!.

’Please… d..don’t.’ Raksha’s words break her concentration and she turns her gaze to her daughter. For once, the softness in her eyes is enough to sway her anger and feeling of utter betrayal. A heavy sigh escapes her lips as she reaches out to touch Raksha’s shoulder in reassurance before turning her eyes back to Bjorn. ”It is fine Raksha, His abandonment cannot hurt us anymore.” she adds, a sly grin tugging the corners of her lips upwards once more.