Burning Embers

Ailith

The days that followed blurred together in a haze of quiet routine and cautious conversation. Garrick's cabin became a sanctuary, a place where time seemed to slow and the weight of my past eased, if only slightly.

Each morning, I'd wake to the smell of coffee and woodsmoke. Garrick was always up before me, moving about the cabin with a quiet efficiency that spoke of years of solitude. At first, I felt like an intruder in his space, but he had a way of making me feel at ease without ever pushing for more than I was ready to give.

On the third day, I found myself helping him chop wood for the fireplace. The rhythmic thunk of the axe and the crisp mountain air cleared my head in a way nothing else had since my arrival.

"You're pretty good at that," Garrick commented, a hint of admiration in his deep voice.

I paused, wiping sweat from my brow. "Thanks. I used to help my fa-" I cut myself off, the memory of my pack still too raw.

Garrick nodded, understanding in his golden eyes. He didn't press, and I was grateful for that. Instead, he changed the subject, telling me about the local wildlife and the challenges of living so far from civilization.

As we worked side by side, I found myself studying him when I thought he wasn't looking. The way his muscles flexed as he swung the axe, the intensity in his eyes as he focused on his task. There was something undeniably powerful about him, something that called to a part of me I thought had been silenced forever.

Later that evening, as we sat by the fire, Garrick finally broached the subject we'd both been dancing around.

"Ailith," he began, his voice gentle. "I know you're not ready to talk about what brought you here. But I want you to know that when you are ready, I'm here to listen."

I stared into the flames, emotions warring within me. Part of me longed to unburden myself, to share the pain and betrayal that had driven me from my pack. But fear held me back. What if he rejected me once he knew the truth? What if he saw me as the broken, worthless thing Kael had declared me to be?

"Thank you," I whispered, unable to meet his gaze. "I just... I'm not sure I even know how to put it into words yet."

Garrick reached out, his hand hovering near mine before he thought better of it and pulled back. The almost-touch sent a shiver through me, and I found myself wishing he had closed that final distance.

"There's no rush," he assured me. "You're safe here for as long as you need."

The sincerity in his voice made my chest ache. How long had it been since someone had shown me such unconditional kindness?

As the days passed, I found myself opening up bit by bit. I told Garrick about my love of nature, about the joy I used to find in running through the forest. I didn't mention my wolf, or the pack, but I could see the questions in his eyes. He never pushed, though, and for that, I was grateful.

In return, Garrick shared stories of his own life. He spoke of growing up in a close-knit community, of the weight of expectations placed on him from a young age. There was a sadness in his eyes when he talked about his past, a longing that I recognized all too well.

"Is that why you came out here?" I asked one evening as we sat on the porch, watching the sun set behind the mountains. "To escape those expectations?"

Garrick was quiet for a long moment, his gaze far away. "Partly," he finally said. "But also to figure out who I am without them. To decide what kind of male—what kind of leader—I want to be."

The word 'leader' caught my attention, but before I could ask more, Garrick changed the subject, asking about my favorite books. The conversation flowed easily after that, and I found myself laughing for the first time in what felt like forever.

As night fell and we headed back inside, I caught Garrick watching me with an intensity that made my breath catch. There was heat in his gaze, a hunger that mirrored the growing attraction I felt towards him. But there was hesitation there too, as if he was holding himself back.

That night, as I lay in bed, I found myself acutely aware of Garrick's presence in the next room. The pull I felt towards him was undeniable, growing stronger with each passing day though we had barely touched more than fingertips. I couldn't shake the memory of his rugged features, those piercing golden eyes, and the way his hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck.

My mind began to wander, imagining the sensation of his fingers tracing the curves of my body, sending shivers down my spine. I let out a soft sigh, feeling the weight of the t-shirt I wore, one of Garrick's, too large for me but somehow comforting in its familiarity. My fingers absently toyed with the hem, the soft fabric rustling against my skin as I shifted restlessly in bed.

My thoughts swirled, conjuring images of Garrick's chiseled chest, the way his arms rippled with muscle beneath his skin. His quick, almost wicked smiles. I could almost feel the heat emanating from his body, the sense of power and strength that radiated from him like a palpable force. My breath quickened, my pulse pounding in my ears as I reached up to brush a strand of hair from my forehead. My hand lingered, my fingers tracing the line of my jaw, my throat, before drifting lower to my collarbone.

I felt a flutter in my chest, a sense of longing that threatened to consume me whole. I wanted to feel his touch, to be wrapped in his arms, to lose myself in the depths of his gaze. My hand slipped lower, my fingers dancing across my skin, tracing the contours of my breasts before teasing my nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through my body. A soft moan escaped my lips before I stifled the sound. My eyes drifted closed as I gave myself completely over to the sensation. I felt a thrill of excitement, my body responding to the pressure of my own touch, my mind lost in the fantasy of Garrick's hands on my skin. I began to massage my breasts, the gentle pressure sending waves of pleasure through me, and I felt myself getting lost in the rhythm of my own touch.

My other hand dipped lower, tracing the curve of my waist, the soft swell of my hips. I felt a sense of tension building within me, a growing sense of need that threatened to overwhelm me. I let my knees fall open and my fingers danced across the apex of my thighs, teasing the sensitive flesh but avoiding the central bundle of nerves that throbbed, begging for attention. Shivers of anticipation swept through me and I felt the moisture gathering at my pussy, my body responding to the pressure of my own touch.

Finally, I couldn't stand to tease myself anymore. My fingers moved with a life of their own, circling my clit, flicking then applying gentle pressure that sent waves of pleasure crashing through me. I gasped, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I imagined how different Garrick's large, callused fingers would be on my sensitive flesh as I worked myself towards a crescendo. My body was on fire, my skin sensitive, my nerve endings screaming for more.

I bit into my lip, fighting against the cry that wanted to escape my throat as I felt myself building towards a climax. Every one of my muscles tensed and my heart pounded in my chest. Lost in the sensations, my mind was a jumble of images and emotions, all centered around Garrick. I could almost feel his hands on me, his fingers moving in tandem with my own, pushing me higher, faster.

The tension inside me reached a breaking point and unspooled as I came, my channel convulsing in a series of sharp, intense contractions. I felt a rush of pleasure, a sense of release, but as I lay there, my breathing slowing, I felt a pang of emptiness. I was still alone, still without the one person I craved.

As the brief euphoria ended, with my body still throbbing with the aftershocks of my orgasm, a feeling a sense of frustration and longing began to grow. I wanted more, wanted to feel Garrick's skin against mine, his lips on my mouth, his fingers wrapped around my wrists. I wanted to be wrapped in his arms, to feel his strength and warmth, to be completely, utterly claimed by him.

I felt a tear prick at the corner of my eye, a soft sob rising in my throat. I hid my face in my pillow so my cry of desolation didn't leave the confines of the small bedroom. I felt a sense of desperation wash over me, a sense of need that couldn't be satisfied by my own touch. I was still alone, still without the one person who could fill the void inside me. But was I ready to trust again? To open my heart to someone new when the wounds from Kael's betrayal were still so fresh? I fell asleep with Garrick's name a soft prayer on my lips.