Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.
Author's Note: Maker, these two have got me bad.
Interlocking
Chapter Seventeen: Again
"'Do you mean it?' she risks. Her words are shaky and hesitant, her eyes unable to meet his." - Krem and Harding find each other in a world torn apart. A story told in brief glimpses.
No one knows that Harding used to have a terrible fear of horses. A petrifying, bed-wetting, panic-attack-inducing fear. She had watched her sister being thrown from a mount when she was only nine, her sister six. She had heard the loud and terrible crunching of bones when her sister slammed against a rock, her leg twisting at a painful angle, her voice broken and hollowed as she screamed. It took many years and many tentative attempts to begin understanding the beautiful danger than horses presented. It was a fear she had not wanted to keep living with. And it was a creature she had wanted to love once, when she was tiny and knee-scraped and fearless. She never believed in fear enough to let it cripple her.
Now, she strokes the mane of a horse tenderly, appreciatively, lovingly. Harding is standing in the warm, thick air of the stables, one hand resting on the neck of a tan Anderfel Courser, the soft silk of its golden mane lighting over her knuckles, her other hand moving a brush along the side of the animal, pushing up on her toes to reach higher.
This is how Krem finds her. Light-embraced. Smiling. Weightless.
She looks up at the soft rustle of hay to find Krem standing in the threshold of the stables, leaning against the wood of the open door, arms crossed, watching her.
She tries to reign in her breathing, tries to push down that fluttering hiccup of emotion that moves against her heart. Her smile widens, her hand stilling against the horse. "Hey," she offers.
Krem smirks at her, and she must steady her trembling breath of anticipation.
"Hey," he answers warmly. He pushes off of the open stable doors and walks toward her, stopping just by the head of the Courser, one hand coming up to brush along its flicking ear and soft neck. "I've been looking for you."
Harding runs her brush along the tan horse softly. "Fitting. I've been avoiding you," she says teasingly.
Krem chuckles. And it is light, and gripping, and fills the stables with a welcomed sweetness. "I sure hope not," he laughs.
Harding moves her gaze back to the horse, her cheeks warming. How can she say that she is breathless at the thought of him? That she could not keep away for the life of her? That she has waited, impatient and writhing, for his words and his warmth and his lips?
How can she say that she dreams of him at night?
Harding swallows tightly and keeps brushing the horse. "Well," she begins, her voice more confident than she feels, "you certainly leave a girl with questions." She risks a glance beside her and finds his eyes steady on the horse before them, his hands limp at his sides.
"You can ask anything." His voice is low and hesitant.
She thinks he might be just as scared and hopeful as she is.
She is quiet for several moments, her brows furrowed, her fingers tangled in the soft hair of the Courser's mane. Her other hand stills its motion of brushing. "Do you mean it?" she risks. Her words are shaky and hesitant, her eyes unable to meet his.
He is silent long enough to make her regret asking. But then, raggedly, stunted with the tender breath of hopefulness, there is this: "With every inch of me."
Harding glances up to him and finds his eyes already watching her, his mouth set in a tight line, everything in his face eager and imploring and desperate. She finds her heart thudding painfully against her ribs. She finds her chest aching with unspoken need. She closes her mouth tightly and watches him for several long seconds.
The Anderfel mount rears its head back and nays at the absent touch of Harding. It grabs her attention and she is blinking at the animal in front of her, her words and breath catching in her throat.
She hears Krem chuckle beside her and watches as he runs a hand tenderly along the animal's neck, patting once, twice, and then his touch retreating. Her eyes watch where his hand had been long after it has left.
"I kissed you because I wanted to."
His words are a surprise, bringing her gaze back up to him, her throat tight with unspokens.
"And I want to again." He does not move his gaze from hers, does not apologize for his forwardness or his proximity or his needful stare.
She is only silent and shocked for a moment, and then her face is sliding into happiness, her chest rising in aching relief. She swallows thickly, nodding, her eyes already moist with hot tears she will not admit to. Her lips are trembling. She nods again, more sure, more demanding. Moves so that she is on her tip-toes and meets her mouth with his as he leans down.
He closes his eyes, bows down to wrap his arms around her waist, breathes a soft sigh of relief and desire against her lips, revels in the flutter of her lashes against his cheek.
Her hands fall from the horse beside her, brush still tucked into her palm, her body light and taken and right in his arms.