Chapter 4: Mine
One moment she was astride him, thighs on either side of his hips, palms flat in the dirt on either side of his eyes, eyes locked on his, and the next, she was flat on her back with him looming over her in the same position, his eyes flashing with a defensive darkness she had only ever seen in other men. Never in him.
Quick as a wink, his knife pressed against her throat, cool steel reminding her that she had to be delicate. This is not Graham Humbert, despite similarities. Maybe wolfishness was not appealing? She just had to spark his interest so he would listen. She scrutinized his face as he returned the favour, hand steady, blade at the ready against her soft neck.
His pupils were dilated, so, clearly, something was working. She swallowed, reminding herself that she did not just come here to fuck him. He meant so much more to her than that. She wanted to love him for the remaining two hours, however he would let her. She wanted to see him smile and laugh and enjoy life before it would be taken.
"I'm sorry, Gra-" she said slowly, preventing herself from naming him, "I forgot that you are not MY huntsman."
"What does that mean?" he said, eyebrows pulled together as he analyzed her.
She sighed, and then winced as her skin pressed against the knife at her throat on the exhale. "It means that we know each other… in the future." His eyes did not waver, inviting more information. She swallowed. "I… you… we are…" she groped for the right word, "Like… friends…"she finally admitted, lamely. 'Missed opportunities and limited time had ensured that,' she thought sourly, and he must have seen her shift in expression, because he sat back on her calves, sheathed his knife at his side, and gestured for her to sit up with his free hand.
"I have never been friends with any human," he said, looking away, "especially not one as… strange as you."
She laughed wryly. "You have NO idea how strange I am, Gr-Huntsman." He looked up, eyes hopeful but tense.
His brow furrowed. "You keep beginning to call me another name and then changing to 'Huntsman'. Why?"
How could she respond to that without giving away any future details? "I… call you something else… there," She said, slowly. He pressed his lips together, clearly not believing the half-truth. "Look, I can't tell you too much, okay? If I share too much information I could alter the future and that… can't happen." She pressed her lips together anxiously.
He gave a small, comprehensive nod, eyes locked on her face, stating, "You are very emotional. Why?"
She looked away. "You've been away for a… very long… while and I really miss you." She suddenly looked up at him, feeling very vulnerable in this moment, here, with him. She hesitantly reached up to cup his face with both hands, like he did for her once, and then stopped herself, hovering, waiting for his permission. "Can I…?" she asked hesitantly.
His mouth's hard line softened, and he gave an almost imperceptible nod. Clearly, no one had ever asked to touch him with kindness or gentleness. He seemed uncertain. She exhaled in relief and cupped his face, fingertips brushing against his hair and palms enjoying the feel of his scruff and jaw. She'd always wanted to do this, and now, because of magical-inter-world-travel, she could. She closed her eyes, greedily running her fingers across his cheeks, pretending this was Graham—her Graham—in her arms. Her head fell forward of its own accord, pressing her forehead against his, and she felt AT HOME with someone other than Henry, her parents, or Jefferson for the first time in months.
And then she was tumbled on her back, and he was standing before her, eyes wide and breathing erratic.
"Who are you, really?" He demanded, looking down with fists clenched at his sides. "And what are you to me? Are you…" his eyes flicked away, to the forest floor, as he gathered his resolve, then back to meet hers, head on, "Are you… mine? Are you my… my… mate?"