I rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. The need to relieve myself pushing my tired feet. The tiles were freezing as I scurried to the sanctuary of the fuzzy rug that stretched from the tub to the sink, before depositing my self on the toilet.
'Great' I groaned looking down to see the betrayal of red in my underwear. Rolling my eyes, I stood up and undressed. My shoulders ached as I pulled my shirt up, making my eyes squeeze shut in pain. I turned to look at my back in the mirror. There were perfect little purple hand prints on each shoulder. Dark and angry against my caramel skin. I shrugged it off causing another wince. Wasn't the first time I had marks left behind from the throes of passion.
I turned the water on to let it warm up, then went in search for a scrunchie to pull my hair up. Really didn't feel like arguing with it most of the day while I waited for it to dry. My hair was unfortunately very thick and annoyingly curly. But not the pretty, tight ringlet curls you see in movies. No, mine was a mess. At the first sight of a brush, humidity, or wind it would poof up like an electrocuted poodle. It was awful.
I slipped my hand past the curtain to test the water. Yep, molten, straight from the bowels of hell, just the way I liked it. It wasn't really, but that was how my ex described it. Stepping into the water stung a little. But it faded away. The water coming down and relaxing my muscles as I slipped away into my thoughts. I'd always done most of my thinking in the shower. Growing up with helicopter parents it was the only place I could be alone. Like a fortress of solitude in an otherwise superficial world. That had it's own ideas of how I should be living my life, or what I should be doing with it is more accurate.
Six weeks ago I met someone. Someone who pushed me out of my comfort zone. Someone who encouraged my interests and hobbies. Someone who didn't judge my minimal living situation. Someone who actually listened to the things I had to to say no matter how goofy it might sound. Someone who could ravish my body in seconds turning me into a quivering puddle of mush. This same someone wasn't like anyone I've ever met before. Cordelia Vancik, well Del, she says only her mother calls her Cordelia. She was quickly becoming a major part of my life, and I'm honestly not sure how I feel about it. I mean shes absolutely amazing but for all her strength, all her intelligence, her way of seeing the world in it's potential to be fair, just and beautiful... It all comes with a price. She's the only heir to her family name and she just so happens to be a Were-Wolf. Yeah I know. Imagine how I felt when I first found out. Initially, I had run away, thinking if anything she was insane. But I couldn't shake the feeling that emerged, like a gnawing sadness, only a few days had passed before I sent her a text asking if she would meet me. After that, I was hers, like putty in her hand. I didn't mind though. I was becoming accustomed to her quirks. A pair of hands interrupted my thoughts as one slid across my stomach and the other over my shoulder to my chest, her mouth kissing the side of my neck. I could feel her tongue tracing the bruises across my shoulders. Her saliva held healing properties and she always took care of me after our nights together. Del swore she always would. The thought was both comforting and intense. From what she explained to me Were-Wolves mated for life once they found their match, that their species depended on it with how few of them were left. She also claimed that I was her fated mate. Which was really confsuing. I leaned back against her. A soft moan escaping my lips as her fingers worked their magic on me, massaging my sore muscles. When I'm with her I can't get enough of her, but when she leaves, and she always leaves, I feel so alone and broken. Del says it's the bond between fated mates, that because I'm human I don't feel it the same way as she does but it still effects me none the less. What ever you want to call it, it sucks. Her hand starts to slide lower and I have to stop her. "Aw! But Lex, just one more time before I have to go? Please?", she coos in my ear. I let out a groan as turn to face her. "I can't, I got my monthly this morning.", I say as my face drops, my cheeks burning red. I don't know why though. I've been as Physically intimate with this woman as anyone could be but saying out loud that Im experiencing the biological functions of a woman embarrasses me.
Del's hand came up to lift my chin. She planted a soft kiss on my lips before smiling at me. "Hey it happens babe.", she said reaching for the loofa and squeezing some body wash onto it then grabbing my hand, she rubbed it up and down my arm and then the other. No matter how many times I've seen her display of physical strength it never surprises me in the way that the depth of her compassion does. Del is as sweet as honey. And tastes like it too. Oh boy does she taste like it. We finish washing up and she heads to the bed room to start getting dressed while I hang back in the bathroom, my hair ended up getting wet anyways and now I needed to blow dry and straighten it. Half way through Del came to stand in the door way and waited for me to turn off the dryer. I knew that look. I've seen that look. My heart sank a little. "You have to go don't you? She called?", I said, focusing on the hair in my brush. Not wanting her to see the tears that assualted the corners of my eyes. "It's only for a little while, I promise.", She paused, picking a stray hair off her shirt before fixing her eyes in me again, " Ya know it wouldn't have to be this way if you just let me bite you. My mother would have no choice but to accept you as my mate." Del's tone was stern. We've had this conversation before. She wanted to turn me but I wasn't ready to live by their rules. Regular people rules were constricting enough. And Del's mother hated me. Hated that her daughter was a lesbian and involved with her. More than once the woman made it clear that she saw me as nothing more than a passing fling. And the sooner she was out of Del's system the better.
I honestly didn't think becoming a Were-Wolf would change her mother's mind. Aside from the fact it had been hard enough to come out to her family and friends as a lesbian. Learning to accept herself for who she was instead of changing herself to fit others expectations. Wasn't becoming a Were-Wolf to be accepted by Del's mother a contradiction to everything she already fought so hard for? "I'm sorry Del, I just can't.", I whispered. This was a bit of a hot button issue between us. No matter how many times I explained why my answer was no, Del took it personally. Which usually led to me apologising a trillion times, her having to leave thanks to her mother, me spending a few days stewing in my misery, questioning if she's going to come back or not, and then worshipping the ground she walks on when she comes through the door.
Yes, it's boarder line toxic, but it's not entirely either of our faults. It's the complex situation we've found ourselves in. Every relationship has its flaws, right? I can see the flash in Del's eyes as her fist clenches at her side, attempting not to lose her temper. I set the dryer down and close the distance between us. She doesn't embrace me back, but lets me pull her close. Tucking a few stray hairs behind her ear as I plant a kiss on her cheek. "I promise it doesn't change the way I feel about you. You know I love you.", I say, as the tears I'd been fighting escape down my cheeks.