Chapter4

#Chapter4

/"And I have loved you oh so long, delighting in your company, hmm, hmm./" After dinner, Thorin and Imara sat on the front porch and relaxed to the sounds of his clumsy guitar playing while the frogs serenaded them at the pond on the Logan’s farm across the road.

He strummed along and sang the words that he could still remember as Imara sat on the edge of the porch and swayed back and forth. /"I like that tune. Can you play it one more time for me?/"

After he turned the pin and plucked at the strings a few times to tune it, he restarted the ballad. /"Why yes, of course, Sweet Girl, anything for you./"

She glanced back over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes as she tried to remember the name. /"What’s that one called, anyway? Was it Green Tree?/"

A huff came from his chest as he bit his lip and tried not to laugh at her mistake. He must have told her at least a hundred times now, and she just couldn’t get it right. /"I believe you mean Greensleeves. A right nasty man named Henry wrote it a long, long time ago./"

She knitted her dark brows together as she imagined how a horrible person could make something so beautiful. /"But that song is so dreamy, though. Was he a friend of yours or something?/"

A deep roar came from his belly, and his face cringed when he shook his head. /"Oh, heavens no, Imara. I’m not quite that old yet. Henry the Eighth was a king about 400 years ago over in England./"

Looking up at the stars, Imara thought about the books she left behind when they left home all those years ago and tried to remember the stories. /"Well, what did he do that was so bad?/"

He contemplated how to condense it all for an innocent soul like his sister. /"He had kind of a penchant for chopping off his wives’ heads or throwing them in prison when he got a hankering for a new one./"

She groaned and drew her nose up in disgust. /"I’m sorry I asked. He doesn’t sound like much of a king or a husband./"

His eyes widened, and his lips twisted as he nodded and agreed. /"Yes, humans aren’t much into fidelity, I don’t believe. They don’t have mates as we do. They choose who they spend their lives with and, well, sometimes they like to change their minds. They toss out the old one and move in the new one like a piece of furniture they bought./"

The cool chain beneath her fingertips glided back and forth between them while she swayed to the melody as it echoed out into the darkness. /"What a bunch of fools they are./"

His head swayed with the movement of the swing. /"Yes, you are correct about that. They don’t appreciate at all the fact that their creator gave them free will. Those twisted old Fates of ours would never be so kind; a jealous bunch of retches they are./"

Being an educated man, Thorin knew the old religion better than probably anyone. His blasphemy was within reason, though. The old gods of their kind dealt his family a terrible hand, and the cruelest card of all had Imara’s name written all over it.

A glimmer of light flashed from behind a tree, and Imara squinted as she tried to focus on the outline of the large, dark animal watching them. /"Something’s out there, Thorin. A dog, I think./" She stood as the animal shifted to another tree closer to her and slyly peeked around the side.

The cool summer grass that lined the front yard bent beneath her feet when she stepped barefoot off the porch as Thorin stopped playing. He narrowed his eyes and tried to peek into the darkness. /"Careful, dear. I hear they got gators and such down here. You don’t want it to bite your toes off./"

/"Stop trying to scare me, Thorin./" She lifted her hand and snapped her fingers, then a ball of green light rose from her hand. The creature whimpered and trotted out from behind the tree when he saw her trick. /"It’s a wolf, Thorin./"

The swing cracked underneath him as he stood and looked out across the yard. /"Nah, just a dog. We don’t have wolves in the South./"

She inched closer and patted her leg. /"Come here, Sweetheart./" The wolf rubbed his head into her hand, and she kneeled on one knee as she set the glowing ball on the ground beside her. /"We won’t harm you. We’re the good sort of witches, I promise./"

His soft black hair tickled the ridges of her fingertips, and she giggled a little when she pressed her nose against his. /"Oh, look what a handsome beast you are! You must have a pile of ladies in your back pocket./"

He laid down before her and licked her hand each time she stroked his head. /"You’re the biggest flirt I ever saw. I bet a bunch of jealous she-wolves will be barking outside my door later when they find out you’ve been catting around with me tonight./"

His soft linen pants tugged upwards in his hands as Thorin crouched beside her and wiggled his fingers in the wolf’s hair. /"I think you made yourself a new friend./"

Imara rubbed behind his ears and kissed the top of his nose. /"He seems lonely, poor fella. Do you think he’s lost?/"

With a shrug, Thorin crossed his arms. /"Maybe he’s feral. Shaw would tan your backside, though, if he knew you were playing with a stray animal, Imara./"

Her fingers tingled as his loving aura radiated over her hands and spread through her, telling her he meant them no harm. /"Well, don’t tell him, please. He isn’t bothering anybody; he only wants someone to love him./"

The cotton skirt she wore spread out over her legs as Imara lowered herself onto the grass beside the wolf and ran her hand in long strokes against the length of his back, making him groan and shake his leg. /"You have no shame at all, do you?/"

With his hand pressed into the small of his back, Thorin stretched and stumbled his way back into the porch swing. The animal rolled onto his back as he sought more of Imara’s touch, and Thorin chuckled to himself. /"I think that critters in love with you./"

She smiled and scratched his belly as she talked to him in her baby voice. /"Oh yes, I think I am too./"

With her head in her hand, Imara hummed along and laid beside the wolf. /"Don’t you pay any attention to my brother./" She pointed her finger into the fury hair under his neck and rubbed her nose against his. /"I know what you are, and you’re no scruffy old mutt, I can tell you that. You know, witches are supposed to have black cats, but I suppose a big bad wolf would be better for a sissy like me./"

Her eyes narrowed as her lip curled up on the end. /"What’s your name, handsome? Hmm! I suppose I’ll call you Sweetheart for now./" She wrapped her fingers around his snout and kissed him between the eyes. /"Because you are a sweetheart, aren’t you?/"

Two days of unpacking had taken their toll on Thorin, and his arms reached over his head as he yawned, then waved her back to the house. /"Time for bed, Imara. You can invite Mr. Loverboy back tomorrow night./"

She rolled her eyes and shook her head at the wolf, then yelled over her shoulder. /"I’ll be there in a few minutes. I want to say goodbye to my boyfriend./"

Her fingertips caressed his jaw as she looked into his eyes. /"Thank you for coming to see me. I’ve been so lonely, and this was just what I needed./"

The wolf growled low in his chest at the sudden loss of her touch when she pushed her hands into the grass and stood. /"Yes, but you can come back to visit me whenever you wish. Now run along before they send a search party after me./" She waved her hand to usher him away, and he whimpered as he turned to leave.

With her hand cupped around her mouth, Imara called out to the wolf as he trotted along the driveway. /"See you tomorrow, Sweetheart./"

The wolf stopped at the end of the drive and turned back in time to watch the orb of light follow Imara onto the porch before she snapped it out and went inside.

Massive, padded paws sprinted down the road until he came to the next lane and went to the farmhouse door. /"Owooo!/" A black-haired woman answered, then stood aside as the animal came through and went upstairs.

The slaps of Ben’s bare feet on the steps echoed through the foyer, and he buttoned his pants as he came into the living room. Imara’s scent still lingered on his hair, and he shook it out with his hand as he smiled and slumped down in a chair across from his parents. /"You’re right, Momma; they’re witches. She’s a lighter./"

Her fingernails bounced off the wooden arm of the sofa as Anna drummed her fingers. /"Thorin’s a decent man, as I recall. Their family is quite high in the Order, or at least they were. I doubt they’d be living out here with us if they were still in the coven’s good graces./"

Ben rubbed at the ache in his chest, and when he caught himself doing it, he smiled. /"She’s my mate. I can feel it./"