Cycles of Love (Second Cycle: Bleed)
Title: Love’s Second Cycle-Bleed
Rating: PG13
Characters of Second Cycle: Arthur, Gwen, Merlin, Lancelot, Ysmay (original) and minor others (this cycle centers heavily on Arthur)
Spoilers: Season 1&2, not beyond. This story is in the Merlin timeframe, before, and a few years beyond
Disclaimer: I disclaim. Merlin is the property of the BBC/Shine.
Written for: camelot_love's 14 days of love. The story as a whole uses multiple prompts and contains 3 cycles. All the cycles use this quote prompted by jeyla4ever .
M-8: “Love is a friend, a fire, a hell,
Where pleasure, pain and repentance dwell.”
~Richard Barnfield
Warning: The fire is written into this one. Scenes of terror and death
Reminder: This part takes place two weeks after the quake.
-><-
Special note: Thank you winwin7 for your continued support of my fics. You do a writer’s esteem well. If I can ever writing something special for you, just let me know!
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Love’s Second Cycle: Bleed (Part ^4^)
“Love is a friend, a fire, a hell…
Where pleasure pain and repentance dwell.
~Richard Barnfield
-><-
“My love…in the darkness shine
My love…and you’re not mine
My love…in silence so long
My love…no promise no more…”
~The Veils
-><-
Love is a hell…
When its destiny is…
To not be fulfilled…
But to burn.
-><-
With the load set up by the wash bins and board, the young man proceeded with his cleaning. It was the past few days’ pile of clothes he was working on, all of them dirtied from practice and forages out into the forest. Lately the prince had been on trips away from Camelot a lot.
Merlin had a mild guess what he was avoiding.
Lifting his blue eyes, the servant blinked at the sun’s blaze through the muddy clouds. This kind of muggy, hot, dirty-skies weather had been going on now for days, pretty much since the quake. He was sick of it as he knew too was the prince and probably all of Camelot. It wasn’t just irritating, but also brought up fears of another strong shaking, beyond just the sporadic mini tremblers that jolted nerves each time they hit.
The one positive, the warmly uncomfortable weather made drying the wash an easier task. All Merlin had to do the past weeks was lay out the wet clothes against the hot stone and in hours or less, it was no longer dripping.
Of course his skin was.
This kind of climate meant grossly human sweat was abundant.
Finishing the wash of one blue tunic, he pressed it down to the stone for drying. Then gathering up another dirtied shirt, he rubbed it against the board, before letting it lather into the tin bin of soapy water.
“This certainly is different than making lances…
Come to life.”
Merlin raised his eyes at the voice, smiling with a touch of weariness at the man. The day had started grimly enough with a ceremony of marking for all those who had died during the quake. Merlin had attended along with Gwen and the man who stood before him now, Lancelot.
It would have felt kind of odd months ago maybe, but since the quake it was becoming customary for Lancelot to be ‘hanging’ around.
It was fine with Merlin personally. He’d always gotten on with him.
Brushing back his dark long hair in the uncomfortable heat, Lancelot moved down to the ground with a smile. “Need some help?”
Merlin shook his head as he continued washing the shirt. “No, think I’m alright with it. Arthur’s been doing a lot of training and riding on treks away from the castle, sometimes for days. He comes back and unceremoniously each time unloads his dirtied wardrobe on me…
literally.”
True. It was customary for Arthur to just smirk at his servant and throw the pile down…
On his head.
Of course of late Arthur seemed to take no wry satisfaction in it.
Lancelot hung onto the first words, sitting on the smoothest area of the jagged stone across from where Merlin was working. “A lot you say? That he’s been away a lot that is?”
Merlin nodded his head, not bothering to look up. “Yep.”
Lancelot’s smiled turned dryly unhappy. Much was troubling him lately, and yet just earlier this day he had kissed the woman he loved.
Everything should be perfect, right?
“Surprised you don’t just clean all this…the easy way.” He winked with intent, trying to lighten the mood.
Merlin got the meaning, letting out a slow chuckle. ‘Yeah, well, sometimes I do. Arthur warns me though to not do it a lot. Sometimes I listen…
Hah…
Sometimes I don’t.”
Lancelot nodded with amusement.
But then quickly asked,
“So he knows?”
Merlin raised his eyes, putting the now washed shirt upon the stone, but Lancelot took the other side from him. Laying it down himself, he shrugged at Merlin to continue with his washing. He would do the spreading.
Merlin gave a nod of thanks and moved to the pants that were nearly black at the knees, forest debris thick on some of the regularly brown material. “Well it probably was obvious the night of the quake.”
Lancelot agreed quietly and asked, “When did he find out?”
Merlin looked around hastily. If ever a conversation like this was heard by the wrong observers, it could mean so many punishments. It could have so many consequences. The area seemed clear though. A small group of training knights was across the way at the eastern side of the forest, definitely too far away to hear a word said. There were some servants and peasants milling about, but also not within hearing distance.
Lancelot waited, having wondered the answer to this question for some time now. It seemed strange that Arthur would actually allow it, considering his father’s strong views about magic being a sin, a horrible treachery.
Of course, Merlin had been in his employ now for years. Perhaps a bond deeper than rules against magic had formed during such time.
Keeping his voice cautiously low, Merlin met Lancelot’s eyes, before bringing his head back down to rub the soapy pants against the board.
He couldn’t divulge it all. He’d given his word.
“During the trip to defeat the second dragon. I can’t give you the full circumstances. Just...we were in a situation where I had to use…well you know…I didn’t know I was being watched.
Later I found out Arthur saw.”
“And yet he spared you?”
Merlin smiled with quiet remembrance.
“Yeah…Guess he did.
Eyes parting with painstaking slowness, he realized he was on a cave’s ground. His tunic was ripped while across his chest parts of another shirt were tied strongly to stop the…
Bleeding?
“Awake now are you?”
Merlin blinked heavily, started to raise up on his arms, soon hearing the prince’s firm warning.
“Easy there. The wound is deep. You’ll want to take it slow.”
Merlin squinted. It was a cave, the same cave he faced the dragon in, the same one Arthur found out his secret…
The same one…
Arthur stabbed him with the sword in.
And yet the same one, he was ALIVE in.
Not putting too much stress on his injured area, Merlin lifted up from the ground where he had been lying, and weakly slid over to where his master was sitting in front of a dull fire, his shirt noticeably ripped, while the flames crackled listlessly.
He should be afraid of him. That sword was still there at Arthur’s side, dug into the dirt.
And yet…
“Why didn’t you kill me Arthur?”
Not looking up, the prince dryly uttered. “I still can.
Who said I won’t?”
Merlin didn’t say anything, but gasped a little as he moved forward too fast, sending a shot of pain to his chest.
“I thought I told you to be careful.” He heard Arthur hiss sharply.
The prince would barely look at him and yet he had checked for his welfare. He had kept him alive.
Maybe musing on some of the same things, Arthur started to rail loudly. “You know what my father will do when we get back, and he is told what you are, right Merlin? What were you THINKING? Staying in Camelot? When we traveled to Ealdor why didn’t you just stay?”
Merlin watched as the prince angrily poked at the fire with a stick, before thrusting it in with a snapping of his jaw.
“I wondered if I should at first. I wanted to if my mother needed me, but she…she told me she would be fine. Not to stay. She said we…you and I were like two sides of the same coin. Someone else has said that to me before too. I may not have liked it at first, but it is my destiny to serve you Arthur. Yours to become king one day.”
He watched as the prince lowered his head raggedly, no comment forming on his lips. With a wearied sigh, Merlin continued.
“I told you my biggest fear about all this…
Well other than dying.”
Merlin added the last part dryly.
Arthur let out a spontaneous laugh, before forcing it down.
Merlin went on more. “Yet you said you didn’t hate me. That’s the last thing I remember before…it starting to get a little darker. I fell asleep?”
“Yes.”
Merlin frowned. Arthur seemed to be battling inwardly, troubled.
The fire let out little whispers through the quiet.
The prince broke through the dominant silence, his voice raw and honest.
“From the moment I could understand the acts of punishment Merlin, I saw what my father did to those who practice magic. I grew up believing it had no good in it. I have watched executions, burnings at the stake, until it made my own flesh crawl to hear the ripping, to see the head…
Roll.”
Merlin shivered as the prince raised his head, eyes forcefully foreboding.
“You would not be spared if he found out Merlin. You would be executed. He would show absolutely no leniency no matter what you’ve done to serve me.
Never doubt that.”
The servant’s eyes met the master’s with grim acknowledgement.
“You would be tortured before you would be made to confess, and then killed in the most laborious way, displayed before the whole kingdom, until it all made you scream. Until you breathed your last.
Until you disintegrated into ash.”
The words made Merlin shiver, but his only mention was acknowledgement. He had already guessed as much. The king despised sorcery.
“I know that Sire.”
“The merciful thing to do then is stab you now.”
Merlin’s breath hung.
Arthur let out what sounded like a pent up sigh.
“And yet I can’t.”
Merlin looked up with wonder.
Arthur turned away, eyes heavily returned to the fire. “I didn’t miss just because your words about hate. It never felt right. I knew that blade wasn’t going to do what it was supposed to.
I knew I couldn’t…
Kill you Merlin.”
Arthur had another stick. This one he let just drop in the fire. Defeated. Merlin watched it, spoke quietly, but with the rawest truth of his own.
“I will never betray you Arthur. I swear.”
The prince looked up at the ceiling of the cave. His study of the raw cracks above them was intense. Never ending. And yet through it he spoke.
“For some odd unfathomable reason I believe you.”
Merlin whispered it,
“So what now?”
A wry smile hit the prince’s face as he shook his head. “Good question.”
Dryly, Merlin asked.
“Uh…have an answer?”
“No.”
It was that simple…
And that complicated.
Merlin didn’t muse on it anymore now though as he finished with the pants. Soon enough Lancelot assisted him in putting them out to dry.
Turning to the remaining clothes, Merlin spoke carefully. He got on with Lancelot perfectly when he first met him. With Arthur it definitely took more time, considering how much they had clashed in the beginning. Years past now though, Merlin served Arthur faithfully, actually liked him when he wasn’t being a prat, and most importantly, respected the man.
Perhaps that was a closer bond? He wasn’t sure. He just knew it was becoming truer every single day. They indeed were like two sides of the same coin. And right now the other side…
Was dented.
“I’m glad you were there Lancelot, you know the night of the quake. I know Gwen is entirely grateful. Just uh…”
Lancelot heard the words hang. As Merlin moved to the last few garments, he finished his friend’s thought.
“Just…what do I plan to do? Why am I always around?”
Merlin smiled mildly, scrubbing at the slightly frayed inner tunic. “I don’t really mind it. You know I like having you around.”
“But he does…mind?”
Merlin shrugged, focused on the tunic of his master, his…
Friend.
Who spared his life.
“He has feelings for her. I know you do too, but, I guess this whole situation is just kind of uncomfortable. He wants to…”
Lancelot’s jaw tensed. Months ago he would have been gone in a few days. Everything had changed though the minute he felt her barely breathing against his chest, seeing her actually starting to burn. That had sent a nightmare through his heart.
“He didn’t save her Merlin. She would have died if…”
Lancelot sighed raggedly. There was just one truth in all of this, maybe a not totally fair one, but so be it.
“He didn’t protect her.”
Hearing the strong disapproval in that one word, Merlin lifted his head. His usually mild mannered friend’s expression was surprisingly fierce, focused on one thing.
One person.
What Arthur couldn’t do, solely.
Merlin had once thought the prince was spoiled and had the best of lives. Over the years he had quickly learned, with all that royalty, joining all those riches…
Was the agony of obligation.
“He tried, Lancelot. He wanted to go to her. It killed him that he couldn’t. He wanted to save her.”
The other intoned darkly.
“But he didn’t.”
A dry brutal wind rushed through…
Hell’s satisfactory laughter.
-><-
“Please Guinevere…”
“Yes…”
It was those words like heaven to his ears that set this up. Albeit nothing was heavenly in the way they rushed hard to get there. Peace had no part in their escape. It didn’t seem to matter. Joined they ran.
Hands so tight, fingers so locked, the sweat seeped through to aggravate.
Chainmail rustled against the soft silk folds of her not so peasant ocean washed dress. It had enough sweet beauty, the material lent from her lost mistress that it betrayed the usual look of those who served the castle. If any looked simpler it was him with just the locks of metal over the loosely shaped worn dulling red tunic.
Their shoes stamped down on the weeds that still found their way through, living in the most evil unwelcome way.
Together they sinned.
Galloped away from their life of ordinary expectation and moral rule.
They broke the laws of their kingdom…
Like wicked lovers.
They seemed so in synch, and yet through it all, the perfect connection, were the questions that hell thrust at them.
It didn’t take long for her to understand his planned destination.
Of course…
It would be there.
Even with the past months of their separation, his relationship forming with the Lady Ysmay, he hadn’t forgotten.
As they passed through the playful canopies of trees, a drizzling of remembrances flooded her mind.
“Don’t mock. It’s not nice. I’ll learn it.”
“You’re right there…you will. Because I’m going to show you how to keep it from dropping when you get ready to swing…”
…
“You DID it Guinevere!”
“Bloody Yes!”
They had been just ingenuous children then, not yet having to be so mindful of protocol and severe expectation. Hidden away, he had taught her how to swing a sword that she shared with him was one of her father’s finest, secretly borrowed Gleeful laughter had rang out during their training sessions, wild youthful abandon echoing privately behind the tall peaking, heavily foiled pines. Those days of innocent childhood, the sky had seemed so majestically far, embracing their fun with lightness.
Now the humid clouds felt too disgustingly close. The uneasy silence was only occasionally interrupted by the too dry screeching breezes.
She could see a flickering spark in his blue eyes, telling her that he wanted to pretend, to play at the game of finding childhood again, but this time deliver to it a little bit of adult naughtiness.
She had no issue with that, other than the sobering knowledge of that it could never last.
Years had changed what happened before.
A sum of just two weeks had altered much.
To appease, maybe to pretend herself, she attempted a quiet wondering smile, before the hot drifts of wind blew it away. They choked at her throat, bringing uncomfortable screeching images, and reminding her solidly of her still healing injuries. The run had been fast, desperate. Her body was still physically weak no matter how much she outwardly protested she was fine and able.
Hearing her breathing so heavy now, feeling her falter a bit against him, Arthur frowned with deep concern. It was stupid of him to have made her run so much, but all he had thought of then was getting her here.
Now…
She needed rest.
It was so unfair once again, but servants when injured or ill rarely had the luxury of total recovery. As soon as their legs, especially, would function again, they were expected back at work, no matter how labored some of their movement might be. Perhaps that was why he hadn’t allowed his own full recovery this time. He wanted to be in synch with her.
As for the destination, perhaps too it was picked for more than just its element of hiding. He wanted to façade away any last time spent here, when she had insisted that any interaction beyond that of prince and handmaiden, needed to end. When she pushed him harshly into…
The arms of another.
-><-
The words echoed ominously.
Still Merlin somewhat rejected them. “You don’t understand Lancelot. He can’t just go to her when he wants to without there being repercussions. He has to follow his father. He’s going to be king.”
Lancelot bit at his lower lip, tensely. Partly this was it.
Even if he didn’t want to admit it.
From the first he understood, could hold one, a sword, a lance, in his hand, he had yearned to be a Knight of Camelot. That had been his destiny since being a mere child. Now with all the laws of nobility, he would never be one. Maybe if that destiny could have been fulfilled, this restlessness wouldn’t be so prevalent.
And yet maybe that was silly. Love doesn’t fade because of personal ambitions achieved.
His refusal to leave entirely this time had to do with one thing…
Her.
“What you say I understand Merlin, at least mostly.”
Lancelot reached forward now as Merlin readied the tunic for drying. Touching at the actually thinning material, the sign of a man, no matter how noble, who did not lead an easy life, Lancelot carefully laid it down on the stone.
“But then maybe that makes my point even more so. She deserves better.
She deserves to be safe.”
Merlin raised his head with wonder.
What exactly was Lancelot thinking…where was he taking this?
Lancelot sighed before sitting back down again, catching Merlin’s wary look as he worked with the last two pieces of clothing. He knew there were questions forming in the sorcerer’s head. Well he had his own.
This seemed to be the solution though. Think of it. Certainly it would take away the temptation. He could live that…kingly life while she…
“Maybe it’s time for something new for her.
And me.”
Merlin protested weakly.
Two of them loved her.
But two of them could never have her.
Someone was going to lose this fight.
One of his friends…
Would be left with a hole in their heart.
“Lancelot, I know how you feel about her, but he also has f-
“MERLIN.”
The servant looked up with alarm, seeing a woman standing there with royal command. Quickly he rose to his feet, showing strong respect. Lancelot too displayed the same, a knight all the way even if he technically could not be one.
“Lady Ysmay?”
Merlin asked with a little less surprise than he had first reacted, though he wondered if she had heard any of the conversation. He doubted it mostly. They hadn’t been talking that loudly.
Pushing back at the folds of her golden hair, Ysmay coolly responded to the servant of her intended. “I have been looking for Arthur. Have you seen him?”
Lancelot exchanged a quick look with Merlin.
“No. I believe he is away, another trek through the forest.”
Ysmay showed unhappiness at the predictable answer. He was always away these days. “Oh…I don’t understand it. He is rarely around anymore. Ever since that horrible shaking of the earth, I barely ever see him. When he returns tell him I wish to meet with him in my quarters. Do not forget. Understood, Merlin?”
“Yes…of course.” Merlin bowed, keeping his eyes down. It was protocol to not be so forward.
Turning on her heel, Ysmay left with an angry huff of air, not even bothering to acknowledge Lancelot.
Slowly Merlin sat back down, continuing his work, even as he felt Lancelot’s eyes starkly on him.
“He can’t have both.”
Merlin scrubbed furiously at the jacket. “He knows that.”
“You say he cares so much for Gwen and yet…what about her?”
Lancelot gestured behind, referring to the regal, unhappy woman who had just interrupted them. “She doesn’t matter to him at all? He just uses her?”
Merlin sighed raggedly. Where would any completion from this come…if ever?
When were hell’s games going to end?
“She matters, but it’s complicated Lancelot. His father wouldn’t allow…”
Merlin’s words drifted off. It seemed like a boy’s immature decision stated that way. It wasn’t so simple in reality.
“Seems his choice is clear then.”
Merlin said nothing.
The battle was begun.
The quake hadn’t just shaken up the earth and their physical bodies…
But their heaven forgotten souls.
-><-
She was confused. Uncomfortable. Too much was mixed in with the sweeter recall, spinning ugly ones of just months ago. A night she broke his heart…
And perhaps her own.
“Finally you’re here…
It must have been as hard for you to get out as for me, yes? Well no matter. Now we’re here together and can-
“Arthur. Wait.”
“Guinevere…no more words. Come here.”
“No. I cannot. You cannot either. You must do what is right.
You must…
Make your father happy.
Be with who is right.
Ysmay.”
“Are you feeling dizzy again?”
She tumbled away from the painful memory, met his concerned eyes.
His hold was tight, but gentler than it had been closer to the castle, on purpose actually. She seemed uncertain. Not feeling well.
“Let’s sit.” Guiding her hand down with his, Arthur assisted Gwen to rest beside him on a familiar fallen log, rotting more heavily now in some spots. Perhaps someday it would rot completely away…
And be gone.
She didn’t have the strength to fight him, plus even with the ugly sweat still managing to creep through, the touch of his fingers locked around hers brought mild comfort.
She didn’t understand it entirely. Even behind the canopy of trees, nothing felt settled. It was his fantasy, built with façade that they would walk out of here hand in hand, renewed, one she didn’t entirely believe in, and yet she hid away too in the make-believe.
As meanwhile the leaves harshly rustled with hell’s indulgence.
When children they hadn’t dared sit close, but as adults with his recently recovered wounds and her still lingering ones, the closeness felt warranted. It was a nursing of hurts, both inner as much as outer.
It was such a bit of relief that she actually rested some against his shoulder, leaning on it just a fraction.
Arthur relieved in that his temper didn’t feel as enflamed here. His anxiety too was not as thick as it had been when they were out in the open.
This was their sanctuary, unfortunately though still plagued by those haunting reminisces of the last time they had been here.
“What do you mean?”
“We know this can never be Arthur. And I know you have feelings for her.”
“No…I…”
“You kissed her.”
“To get you to react.
To want just me.”
He pushed it away urgently, ugly recalls that never should have happened here. This place was supposed to be their hidden destination, their bliss where all that outside interference never got in.
And yet they had allowed it to slither through that night.
He allowed her then to play the part of a liar.
He couldn’t blame her though. He was as much to fault as her. She felt she had no choice for each and every decision would lead to some form of consequence.
He had a choice now though, right? She did too.
They picked her way then. He agreed to it with horrible reluctance, but he lived by it. Now that it vagrantly wasn’t working, he wanted to convince her to do it…
His way.
Yet one thing plagued even beyond that.
It was the other reason he had wanted to take her to a place where she could feel safe. Since seeing her in Lancelot’s arms that horrible night, alive, but so still, so dirtied, so ravaged, he had begged inwardly the answer to this question.
Reaching down to trace his fingers over hers and to grasp them just a soft bit, he asked,
“What happened?”
She turned, faced him, glancing down at his hand so tenderly over hers, before she responded.
“When?”
It was a hollow question. She knew…the when.
“The night of the quake. I’ve thought of it so much since that evening.” He didn’t reveal the dark dreams where she died before his arms could reach far enough. “I just need to hear from you what it was like to be in that kitchen.
I searched all over and I-we-
His voice broke off painfully. The ugly dreams tangled into his heart, making him feeble.
She touched caringly at his cheek, feeling the hot sweat trickling down his skin. “You looked for me? You were worried?”
His soul drummed, stuck in hell’s tangling thorns that kept ripping tiny tears into his being. “Yes…of course. I just-
He hated himself still for not being able to reach her in time. He hated himself for selfishly wanting to be the first person to find her, instead of just being grateful that she was alive…
Sitting beside him now.
Reaching forward, he made his move.
Damn all the usual obligation.
They were already suffering through hell anyway, right? Might as well steal away every chance.
Rob like hell beckoned. Sin vagrantly.
Fiercely his fingers dug into her curls of hair. Strongly his eyes stared into hers. With shaking, his arms pushed against her shoulders.
“I wanted to go to you as soon as it started. You’ve been pushing me away all these months, since the first one of the year, and I know why, but…
My God Guinevere…
I…”
He didn’t finish speaking, just pushed his lips against hers. Forcing at her mouth to open, he invaded her space. Selfishly he needed this and so she had to…
Also.
She moaned in pain, but still allowed it. It hurt to do this because it never found a road that opened to any solution. It always weaved into the ugliest jarring blades.
He kissed her with no joy, only ache trying to find its peace, its ailment, its comfort. Bruisingly he took her lips with his. Sought between the tangling of their tongues to find some cool relief.
It came though, her weakened murmur.
“Ar-thur…”
Hearing it, feeling it rock at his already inflicted heart, he ceased his strong indulgence.
Put her first.
Gently he let her go.
She felt his tight hold lessen. As he backed away, she saw it, how his lips were as wet as hers felt.
Her intimate moisture. Locked with his.
Arthur searched her dark midnight eyes. They were wearied and holding to so many troubles and vicious memories. He had kissed her hard, but now he just wanted to lessen her load. As much as it was built up into his need to hear, it was to give her tender release.
“Just tell me what happened.”
She said nothing, frowning with unease.
He went on.
“I know you went through…”
His definition was not near the extent, but he would soon enough know.
“Something horrible.
Take me through it.”
She started to turn away. He was asking too much. He wouldn’t like the answer anyway. It wasn’t an easy one.
But he strongly shook his head, held firmly with his hands, not letting her get away.
“No.”
This time he’d burn alongside her.
-><-
“A delivery for you.…”
Departing the forest after finding his servant, his answers unsatisfactory, she turned around at the voice.
“Lady Ysmay.”
Behind her rushed another humbly dressed servant. Coolly bringing her hands to the hips of the golden weaved blue gown she was wearing, she waited impatiently. “Yes.”
The young servant boy stopped at her feet, bowed low with respect.
She rolled her eyes at it before coming in with strong demand. “Enough. Give to me now what you are holding.”
The boy reached into his worn satchel, handed her a roll of parchment, tightly knotted with yellow ribbon.
Noticing the color, her eyes flashed with interest.
The boy was still standing there though, waiting stupidly.
Frowning deeply, Ysmay ushered him away. “Well you’ve delivered it. Now be gone.”
The boy nearly stumbled over his boots.
Ysmay watched with little care before stepping deeper into the forest, trying not to rush.
She couldn’t help though tangling her fingers into the yellow tie even before she reached her destination. Finally getting the paper loose from the colorful bind, her glass-like eyes flickered.
“Finally.”
Searching her surroundings, she carefully made sure no one was close-by, before sinking down to the ground with no care that it soiled her lavish dress.
Fingers actually not steady, she held the parchment.
The breeze blew dry, awfully hot, irritating at what had already formed. Still she simply shrugged away the sweat that was seeping through the neckline of her dress.
Her attention was all on the words.
She read it…
Reread…
As hell laughed at the fun predicament.
Seemed love was scarred by another…
Evil secret.
-><-
Continued here