Issue # 60- A Shattered Clasp

A Shattered Clasp


*~~~~*

He finds her in his library.

Mikel stalls in the portal to drink in the sight she presents and to allow the overwhelming guilt to subside, if it will. His witchling sat on his long sofa, her legs drawn up to her ample chest with only the roaring fire to light her huddled form. She sat facing the hearth with the were-bruin pelt drawn tightly over her hunched shoulders, her expression troubled.

“Ephra, Brun has decided we both need toddy`s to bolster us on this raging tempest of a night,” he announces nudging the thick door closed with his elbow. Her attention turns from the leaping flames and hissing logs as sleet batters the windows. “Do you wish to talk?”

She nods in silence, keeping the shirtless male in her sights. Bare-footed as well as chested, Mikel strides over to the sofa and hands her the steaming mug before lowering his huge body down. Her tiny toes peek from under the plush fur, nails painted a garish bright pink and black. Quicksilver eyes move from her oddly decorated digits back to her lovely face.

“I take it the conversation with your coven did not go well,” he inquires enjoying the skillfully blended tastes of brandy, honey, lemon and tea. She shakes her head slightly, pursing her full pink lips to blow across the top of the heavy mug held between two diminutive and well-jeweled hands.

“That`s an understatement,” Ephra whispers wondering how the man could parade about in nothing but sinfully tight leather pants when she was always shivering in this huge old mansion he called home. She takes a small, tentative sip. Brun would be a welcome addition to this place she sighs as the honeyed brew slips down her throat. His hand, warmed from the mug, falls to her small foot and stays there.

“What was said?”

“Where do I start? They are outraged with my use of the power the goddess gifted me with in the taking of a life. They are BEYOND pissed at my choice of you as a lover, and they are demanding I return home to face the matriarchs and the inner circle.”

“Witchling, I am truly sorry.”

Her blue eyes rise from the toddy and she gazes at him with slight confusion.”Why? You have nothing to be sorry about. I did what I did because I wanted to. The decision`s were mine to make not yours and I made them. I`m not sorry for striking down your father, and I sure as HELL am not sorry I chose you for a lover!”

“Ephra you far too good for me,” he mumbles running his thumb across the thin silver band she wears on her littlest toe. His rough fingertip skims over the top of her tiny foot.”I knew you would suffer for coming to my bed.”

“When I`m in your bed I`m far from suffering,” she comments and he smirks.

“Nor am I. Ephra, I am unsure as to how to say this….”