Choose Me

This is an experiment of sorts with the relationship between Tack and Kit.

Far from the beaten path, deep in the woods, where few ever need tread a beautiful woman slumps against the supporting trunk of an old oak and clutches her ribs as her body begins to shake. The tremors increase, a sob fills the air, and she falls to her knees. Her head bows, golden hair hiding her face from view, and the forest seems to hold its breath.  Glowing spirits leave the trees around her offering comfort to their fallen kin. All attempts to sooth end in failure and concerned looks are exchanged. A faint rustling announces a new presence and they return to hiding as a sharp, gaunt man appears behind the trembling woman.

Concerned amber eyes stare out from behind a curtain of wavy gray hair and the man slithers to her side. Crouching, he draws her into his arms and she burrows into him, face hidden, bawling. Thin clawed fingers tip her head up to his sharp perusal, a whine of sympathy leaving his throat. Large green eyes are swollen, tears track salty streaks down her face, and she looks so pitiful.

“It’s okay, Kit. Don’t cry anymore,” he croons, wiping away her tears.

“Oh Tack; I know he doesn’t mean to do it. Demean never realizes he’s flirting, but this time is different. That woman has a past with him and she keeps flaunting it in my face. She treats me like a silly child because she has more experience with men. Did you hear the condescending things she said to me right in front of him?” Kit rambles frustrated, before deflating with a trembling sigh. “Why doesn’t he…I mean, he could just…”

“He could tell her to shut the hell up,” Tack interrupts with a snarl, “He could defend your honor like the man that idiot boy pretends to be instead of letting that whore walk all over you.”

“Tack,” she gasps, “you shouldn’t say that.”

“She’s a whore Kit,” he hisses with a malevolent grin. “Make no mistake. Her body is so worn out and used she can’t give it away. Don’t compare yourself to her; she isn’t worthy to lick the scum from your boots.”

“How can I not? She’s the first woman Demean ever loved and I…I’m nothing like her.”

“You’re better than she is, and if that idiot boy can’t see that, then you should get rid of him. I could get rid of him for you. After I finish he’ll appreciate just how superior you are. Or die trying,” Tack says, bitterness mounting in his voice. “Why do you stay with that dolt? He doesn’t deserve you. And he’s human so he’ll just die in a few years anyway. Really he’s no better than a pet. After showering him with love and care he repays you by humping the neighbor’s leg,” he says, laughing shrilly, before pinning her with hard, serious eyes. “Kit, move on to someone superior that appreciates you.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” she says, a tremor of trepidation in her voice.

With a growl Tack pulls Kit tightly against him, hand cupping her face, pressing his lips against hers in an adoring, frantic kiss. She jerks back in surprise and his arms tighten, continuing the soft, unyielding caress of his lips. Struggling not to lose control and overwhelm her, he begins to pull away. Kit whimpers in protest, tightly gripping his coat as she closes the distance between them. Tack freezes, shocked, before a loud growl erupts from his chest, resonating through her. Hands tangling in her hair he tilts her head back, deepening the kiss. Each frenzied beat of her heart thunders in his ears keeping time. Her heart gives a fluttering beat in need of air and he pulls back, trailing kisses along her face and jaw.

“Pick me, love me, I can give you everything he can and so much more. Your deepest fantasy is my pleasure. Tall, fat, short, thin, just tell me what you want. I could even look like him,” Tack rasps with each pleading press of his lips. “I won’t cheat with other women; you are the only one I want. Choose me, Kit, you’ll never regret it.”

Kit stiffens, eyes snapping open as his words kill the hazy intoxication of kisses better than any cold shower. Bringing her hands up Kit pushes Tack away, trembling under his condemning glare. Irritation spikes through him at the remorse lingering in her gaze. Damn her. He hates those cruel, sorrowful eyes.

“So that’s it then. It doesn’t matter that I understand you better than he ever could. That I appreciate you more than he ever will. I can give you everything your heart desires and I’ll never grow old and die. But that doesn’t mean anything, does it? You’re only interested in that pathetic whelp of a human who makes you cry and doesn’t even notice because he’s too busy going after another woman like a bitch in heat,” Tack sneers viciously, uncaring when she flinches from the sting of his words.

“I love you. I want you to know that. I’m so sorry,” Kit asserts in a soft, wavering voice as fresh tears spill onto her cheeks.

“No! It isn’t that easy. You know I’m right,” Tack howls, gripping her arms in a bruising vice.

“You’re right. Everything you said is true. My time with Demean is limited; maybe that’s why I’m willing to forgive him. This is the only time we have. I don’t want to lose you, Tack, but you deserve the truth. I love him and I won’t leave him,” Kit informs him softly, voice steady with resolve despite the fresh tears staining her face.

The crazed fury melts away, leaving a hollow ache. Tack cuddles her close, pressing his face to her hair. A sob escapes as Kit wraps her arms around him weeping trembling apologies into his chest. She doesn’t ask him to understand. Nor does she deny the fact that she’s in love with him. Tack trembles in Kit’s arms, unable to hate her. He blames Demean, resolve wavering against the tide of murderous intent. The warm tears soaking through his shirt into his skin keeps him in place

He’ll wait, decades if he has to, while she and the whelp human make a little life together with the house, the kids, and the family pet. After all, time is on his side. Demean will grow old, decrepit, and wrinkled, becoming an eyesore rotting in the bitter decay of human mortality while he and Kit will remain unchanged. Even now the moment belonging to that boy is ending and Tack’s eternity is just beginning.

Branded

This is a short story with my character and a character created by myself and Miss. Salina. It's just a little something I did for me, and now I'm using it for a test post. =)

His mind wanders as he prepares the funeral pyre going, surprisingly, not back to that fateful day but to the beginning of his life. He reflects on his humanity, the doomed romance with Genkai, days of dark demonic deeds, and redemption in a strange town with a damaged woman.  It’s impossible, in that moment, not to compare the two great loves of his life. Both were strong, independent women and powerful psychics. But, where the first would only have him on her terms, so long as he was human, the second only wanted him, however begrudgingly. She didn’t care that he had willing sacrificed his humanity to become a demon. Would’ve supported him if he was a hero or damned the world to hell. Understood him better with the quirk of an eyebrow than the other ever had. Even her humanity was tenuous if they’d wanted eternity. He wishes he had asked, because she would have done it.

He wonders idly, as her body begins to burn, if this is his true punishment and the horror waiting in the afterlife is simply a reprieve. Though it would have been his ultimate damnation at one time, he doubts it will ever compare to her calling his name as a hand erupted from her chest. Across the battlefield the spray of her blood managed to stain his clothes. His green coat is flecked with brown, but he can’t be bothered to change.

He watches pale skin darken to ash as a knot tightens in his stomach. Embers spark in the lustrous sheen of her orange hair and she glows, radiant, before the stench of burning flesh fills his senses. For the first time in his life he hates orange. Hates the fact that she always had one handy. Hates that she used to bake him orange cake. He especially hates that she began to smell of citrus. Nuzzling her hair he would breathe her in, filling his lungs with oranges, peanut butter, and a faint hint of something wildly untouchable. Normally she would pinch him in affectionate reprimand, occasionally grinding her elbow into his solar plexus, but sometimes she would lean against him, entwine their fingers and give a long suffering sigh while he smiled against her hair.

He watches that hair curl and sizzle like black poisonous snakes. For a ridiculously long moment he considers lying down beside her. The fire would only be a minor annoyance, even as his clothes burned against him, because unlike her he’s impossibly durable. It never occurred to him just how fragile she was until her body crumpled to the ground like a string-less marionette. It doesn’t seem right that she should be alone in this, even though she preferred it. He doesn’t want her to be alone. Not when he’s right here.

Something aches in his shriveled black heart because she’s gone someplace he can’t reach her. And it is shriveled. Decades of cruel demonic activities caused the unnecessary organ to rot in his chest. She’d teased him about it, of course, pressing her ear against him trying to find a heartbeat. Her mood had been unusually carefree as she lay on top of him, his large hand resting on the curve of her back keeping her in place and warming the skin. There was the faintest brush of lips against his as she snatched his sunglasses, carefully placing them aside with her own.

She never kissed him. It was always a caressing almost touch that made his nerves spark with a need to feel more. He’d kiss her fully, and she’d respond in kind letting him set the pace. Sometimes he was bruising, punishing her for loving him. He’d growl into her mouth as her teeth sank into his lip, pulling each other closer. There would be livid bruises shaped like his hands marring her skin for weeks afterwards, and he’d feel a primal sense of pride that she was clearly marked as his. She’d be just as arrogant in her possessiveness despite the fact that the marks from her fingernails disappeared in seconds.

Other times he was gentle. His hands would tangle in her hair cradling her close as her arms entwined around his neck and their bodies would fit just so. A lazy hum of contentment would vibrate beneath his lips as he’d press warm open mouthed kisses down the length of her neck. Later, her head tucked under his chin, she’d tilt back just enough to leave the brushing caress of a kiss against the center of his throat.

On that night the fingers of her right hand interlocked with his left, her body draped over his, long orange hair liberated from its braid covered them better than any blanket, his hand on the small of her back, her voice teasing and the warm glow of innocent happiness that neither could have identified. Eyes the color of quicksilver met almond and softened in a way he never thought possible as the sweetest smile curved her lips.

“You have a heart,” she said with soft authority, “beating in time with mine.”

Leaning down she pressed her lips to his chest, over his heart, in a full lingering kiss. It warmed him, down to his withered soul, searing her mark on him as nothing else could. The steady rhythm of her heart echoed through him and he knew his battered, shriveled blood box would sluggishly follow its beat.

Her body is gone but he keeps the fire burning, waiting for her bones to crumble. Raising a hand he places it against his chest resting over his heart. He can no longer feel the blistering press of her kiss. His heart has finished beating.