The Keeper of the Flame
There's a fine line between want and need. Much like the line between love and hate. It has been said the opposite of love is not hate, but indifference.
He was never indifferent about anything, especially her. In the beginning, the hate consumed him, but even in hate, the passion slowly simmered.
He looked at her with eyes like smoldering coals before the white hot moment they erupt into flames.
She could lose herself in his gaze, completely ensconced in the danger that lurked in his midnight eyes. Excitement knotted her stomach. She watched him chase younger women, blonde and beautiful. Women that weren't her. He sought them out, searching for the relief only she could provide.
In the depth of her soul, she wished she were them, but in his eyes she learned his secret. The fire of passion that burned there was meant only for her.
"I'll wait," he told her, "in case you need me."
Being a man of his word, he waited, but the need didn't come.
She would never need him, but she would always want him.
He reconciled to her lack of need, but her want ignited an eternal fire within his soul.
And she would forever be the keeper of the flame.