Dark Gifts

Silver Memories

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Dimitri sat in his office, having just gotten off the phone. He'd been talking with a woman who wished to leave a stray wolf cub her daughter had found, injured and nearly dead beside its already dead mother, with him at his preserve. Of course he had agreed.

But that was not why he sat there still, his face in his hands, heart pounding, anguish threating to rise up and choke him nigh unto death. It was because of her. Skyler.

He longed for her with everything in him, longed to just see her, hear her voice, anything. His loneliness burned inside him, as surely hers must as well. Did she not miss him too? Or did she still see him as a male, and dangerous, predatory, to be considered a threat? Surely not, not after everything.

For surely... after the exchange of blood, and the gifts of scarlet cloak and wolf charm, and healing her burns from vampire blood and the dance at the Christmas party and...

He slammed a fist down onto the table, stopping the flood of desperate thoughts. Was he truly so desperate for his lifemate that he prattled on inside his own mind like an adolescent, human boy? He was beginning to sound like the little boy, Shellton- "Call me Shell"- the younger brother of the four women who were in charge of the incoming wolves at his preserve. They were French, but had relocated to the wilds of Russia, he didn't know why. Shell often babbled like Dimitri himself had been doing seconds before, whenever Shell was confronted by a beautiful girl. He was only twelve.

But for himself, Dimitri, ruthless vampire hunter and Carpathian warrior, to babble like this about a girl, making excuses as to why Skyler should care for him, welcome him with open arms, never fear him... it was foolishness. She feared him, loathed him, surely. He didn't know how to change that, no matter how much he longed for it not to be so.

A hesitant knock at the door.

"Come in, Jade," he murmured softly, huffing a breath. Jade Waverly, one of the four women who knew who and what he was and worked here at the wolf preserve with their brother came in, holding a medium sized package. Shellton poked his head in after his oldest sister, chirping, "Hey, watcha doin' in here, yo?"

"Shell's been watching American television again. Something about... America's Best Dance Crew. Anyway, sir, you received a package in the mail from Paris. It's from Francesca del Ponce?" Jade lilted her voice to make it a question. She knew, as did her three sisters, that the del Ponce family's oldest daughter was important to him in some way. He'd explained it as "a prolonged betrothal." So for him to be receiving a package from the mother of said daughter, well...

"Thank you, Jade. You can go," he mumbled, focusing on the package. Had she touched it at all, his Skyler? As Jade shut the door behind her, he inhaled the fragrance that was uniquely his young lifemate's, and felt tears prick his eyes. She'd put this package together.

Opening it carefully, he saw a black leather case about an inch and a half by three inches, and something metalic ice blue was peaking out. There were headphones coiled beside it. There was also a small black book and two letters. One was written in Francesca del Ponce's hand. It only said,

Skyler wished to send you a gift, since she enjoys the three you have given her. I, too, have sent you a gift, for you will be my son-in-law and I wish to welcome you to the family. I thought it the best gift I could give you.

Sincerely,

Francesca

He assumed the book was from Francesca, then. He pulled it out of the box and flipped it open, realizing as he did so that he held a photo album in his hand. All were pictures of his Skyler.

Skyler painting her toenails the same ice blue as his eyes. Skyler in a formal portrait, wearing the black wolf pendant with her beautiful, sapphire blue dress. Skyler and Tamara, her baby sister, baking cookies. Skyler playing on her electronic keyboard, strumming her harp, writing in a book, reading while lying on her stomach. Skyler asleep on her bed, holding a stuffed wolf with ice blue eyes.

His heart melted. Perhaps, just perhaps, she did not hate him.

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This is called Silver Memories because photographs are taken using silver powder (or something, silver something. I forget how they explained it.) This will be followed by Gossamer Song.