Twenty-Five

She awakened in a fright, screams ripping from , sweat clinging to her skin. Something reached for her, she flinched, the deep voice of Kris pacifying her fears. He pressed his large cool hands upon her cheeks, quieting her, allowing her heart and breathing to stabilize.

Kris sat beside her, and Chaerin eased herself into his arms, the steady beat of his heart sedating her inner storm.

Softly, he mentioned that her friend was alright, alive, and would not sustain permanent damage, probably scars along his torso, his throat. That was all he had to say, his slender fingers her hair, gliding through the blonde strands. He came across her bitten hand, her skin tingling from his touch, and then he left a fleeting kiss, a mental note to properly bandage it made.

Chaerin shifted a few inches from his person, his dark eyes fixated on her, until she rubbed her nose against his, his eyelids fluttering. Weakly, she kissed his cheek, his jaw, and red eyes snapped open sparking a curiosity in her when his soft lips greeted her own, scattering her mind. His hands flew to her face as she clutched the front of the white shirt plastered to his skin, responding to his fleeting touches fervently.

Kris was kissing her with an intensity she found she could match, her forceful grip on him evident enough of the bottled passion her petite body held.

Her thoughts glossed over by these interactions, she lost track of when he had sat beside her to leaning her closer to the smooth sheets of her bed, her thigh closing in on his waist. Ever the animal, he nipped her bottom lip, earned the desired effect of her gasping and throwing her head back.

Seizing the opportunity, he buried his head in her shoulder to happily drown in her scent and naughtily grazed a fang along her clavicle. It greatly pleased his ego to have their scents tied, mixed, bridged.

Chaerin reached for him, rested her forehead against his, the breaths between them coming in short, heavy pants. Lightly, she brushed her lips against his, and he decided he would allow himself this one indulgence.

The bed was devoid of company when he forced his eyes open, sunlight flooding the room, the sheets crumped beside him. Languidly, he pulled himself up, and walked into the kitchen, the fresh aroma of coffee reeling him in. Chaerin was spotted drinking from a mug of the hot drink, her being slightly quivering.

She squeaked as he looped his lanky appendages around her waist, his frame seeming larger than usual upon comparison. Dazed, he laid his shaggy head on her shoulder and replied with a nod when she expressed her desire to see him.

Chaerin had known her for roughly over a year, had survived with her through thick and thin, and she had never witnessed her in such a pitiful state before. She looked on as Bom sadly shook her head, rejecting Chae's words of solace as the last person to do so had Sandara shrieking - the girl was practically broken into little bits and pieces.

Bom held Sandara, patting her back, trying to keep communication a minimum. Today would not be the day she celebrated with her friends upon discovering she would not be having children anytime soon.

Bracing herself, Chaerin entered Sanghyun’s room, and slapped her hand to her bruised lips to stifle her gasp. His body was covered in bruises and bandages, tubes peeked out from his veins. Trembling, Chaerin neared his side, whispered, “I’m so sorry, Sanghyun. This wasn’t supposed to happen.” Out of habit, she brushed aside the locks of hair destined to hang in front of his eyes forever. “Maybe if I had thought things through- if I had realized tearing the leaders from their packs was a terrible thing to do- oh, my god. I’m so sorry, Sanghyun. I’m sorry.” Droplets fell daintily from swollen eyes, and she left a kiss to his forehead.

With a last pat to his black wisps of hair, she murmured, “Get well, Sanghyun-ah. You still owe me for that lovely girl I set you up with, you know? And you can’t leave without attending Bom’s wedding, you were going to suffer with me. We all know that bridezilla is going to peek out.”

Her voice quaked, “And you sure as hell can’t leave Sandara.”

On her way out, she passed by a couple of nurses, the women expert gossip-mongers by the sound of it. “Did you see his flesh? It was shredded and those bruises were pretty unusual, don’t you think?”

“Jesus, I don’t want to face what got him. Do you think it was an animal of sorts?”

Chaerin quirked a brow.

Kris awaited her outside, his coat barring him from the chilly breezes that filled the day. Chaerin secured her arm around his, and they walked, his expression bemused.

“Frankly, I am exhausted. It’s a cycle with you boys, isn’t it? Confusion, curiosity, violence, pain, scars, peace and it goes on.” She rambled, surprisingly animated for her recent hospital visit.

He frowned, “We’re not human, Chaerin. Our lives are led far differently than humans.”

“Yes, yes that’s right.” She concluded, her brows furrowed. “Perhaps, sleep-deprivation and exhaustion have me spouting nonsense. Let us return home, I hate feeling like this is not the end.”

As if life had a greater curveball to throw her way.