Patience Is Something I Lack... [Dorian]

[Ruby Gray]

The cold was biting, the icy snow nipping at the calloused flesh of her pads as the wolf maneuvered through the trees. Its hide an ebony so dark it nearly blended in with the night sky, snow beaded, catching on the long strands of fur, speckling her pelt with white. Eyes that were rich, vibrant, wild, the color of liquid gold peered out into the forest. Not a creature was brazen enough to tread upon her path, despite the seemingly docile demeanor the beast had presently. Its talons were thick enough to shatter bone and its teeth just as wicked. It was several hundred pounds of deadly predator and each muscle rippled in anticipation of a hungry kill. A long pink tongue swiped at her own snout, almost imagining the coppery taste of blood.

Keen eyes would observe the blackened streets of this foreign city from a far... nothing here could compare to the glory of Vane Manor. Then again, her husbands manor was the epitome of luxury. The beast found it amusing how the very building itself seemed to have narcissistic tendencies. Opulent and rich it sneered at many of the lesser constructions of wood and mortar, the beasts lips pulled up into a cruel snarl, the hairs rising on the nape of her neck. So why wasn't she enjoying the beckon of everything her husband owned? Well that was quite simple. Her husband wasn't there. Pulled away... again for a meeting that involved the nobility of another city. For three days she had busied herself. She had gone hunting, worked the bar, played a few things for Victor on the piano and had even caught up on a bit of reading and finally... she reminded herself that she was a werewolf. A werewolf now married to a Duke.... so why in Gods name was she sitting around waiting for him to finish whatever it was that he was so desperately needed for, when she could merely go to him?

So... here she stood, cloaked in the monstrous frame off her wolf overlooking this foreign city from the safety of the trees and debating how best to approach this. Probably not as a four legged monster. A few heartbeats later and the woman was fully dressed, in hunting gear, but acceptable to societies standards. Slipping through the town with ease, she hunted his scent, tracked him like the hunter she was. She found his hotel easily and after a winning smile and just a dash of charm, the innkeeper happily told her the room number of one Dorian Gray. Approaching his room swiftly, she could hear very little sound coming from behind the door. It wasn't that late, he wouldn't be asleep already would he? Perhaps he hadn't been freed of meetings yet? She knocked softly.

She swore if there was another in that bed she would kill them both.

[Dorian Gray]

Dorian hated being sent to meetings. He could hardly stand other people, let alone the old crones that had minds for politics. Even if he was a charming young man, he did not want to be the delegate for Aledon and all its issues. The thing was, it gave him a surplus of wealth and he would have that no other way. He had the nicest manor outside the city, the biggest stables, the best staff. And he had a dark secret that he didn’t share. He was everything that an honest diplomat shouldn’t be, and so wondered why he kept his post so long. Well. It was because writing would not keep it for him. Politics would have to do.

He’d missed Ruby. He had taken her for wife, whether it was a good choice he knew not. He did harbor feelings of love toward her, but he was still not the man she needed and still an inadequate moral choice for her affections. Nonetheless she had been delighted that it was so and he was not going to protest. But now he’d been with these people long enough to drive him mad. He was far from Ruby and so had been stripped of his moral principles and ability to love. The hedonist in him rose again at times like this, and he was ever the charmer. He’d gotten two lovers into bed thus far. But it was better he do it now than at home, for he did not have to tell Ruby and she would be grateful for it. Once he regained his senses, he’d remember how he loved her and regret the awful hedonist he was otherwise.

But this night he was alone. He’d tired of the people here and settled upon reading a particular volume of Thoreau, mulling over transcendentalist theories as if this hedonistic form of him even cared. But it was better than stupid poetry.

All of the sudden he heard a tapping at his chamber door and frowned. He had not called a lover this night; he was simply waiting to go home after the final meeting tomorrow. Hesitantly, he stood and opened the door, dressed no more in his nice clothing but a simple white shirt and pants. To his surprise stood Ruby there, and he furrowed his brow a moment. With a laugh, he pulled her in and asked, ”Couldn’t stay away, could you?” He kissed her gently.

[Ruby Gray]

In the back of her mind, she knew she should have given herself an hour or so before hunting down her beloved Duke, the Wolf was very much a large part of her thoughts after such a long day of running as the beast. She supposed at one point it had been strange to hear two voices, bickering back and forth in her mind, but now... it just gave her a nasty headache and she willed them both to shut up. Dorian was more than capable to speak for both of her sides tonight. It took a pace longer than she would have liked and the more dangerous side of her, had already decided that if he wasn't here she would kill whomever it was that was hell bent and determined to keep her from him. Her thoughts teetering more on conspiracy.

All such violent thoughts dropped like weights from her as he answered the door in...less than standard clothing. She blinked rather stupidly, eyes drinking him in shamelessly before his words snapped her out of her lost train of thought and he dragged her willingly through the doorway. Not that she was ever going to protest. He kissed her gently, not filled with lustful urgency and this made her wonder, was it not when she was gone that he became... cold, cruel, callous? Curious. She dragged away from his mouth the barest hint of a teasing smile painted upon her mouth as she caught a stray lock of his hair between her fingers and twirled it absently, already relaxed and at ease in his presence.

“From you? My beloved Adonis? I should think not, I curse whatever politics has dragged you so long from Aledon. It seems when you vanish, less than pleasurable company comes hunting for me, so in retaliation... I came hunting for you.” For a moment, a flicker of gold colored her eyes and she sunk her teeth into his chin.

[Dorian Gray]

Dorian wasn't easy to hold. No one until Ruby had ever done him such a favor, and he wasn't thankful for it unless she was around. He was a hedonist through and through, with bouts of emotion. But those had the side effects of regret, remorse... all those things he did not want to have to feel. But when he was given that small piece of his soul, his hideous soul, back, Dorian soaked it up. Because even if there were the bad things there, which there always were, there was also that deeper feeling that he got whenever his duchess was by him. She made him entertain ideas he'd not thought in fifty years.

He was glad that it was her at the door and no other; for no good reason he was lax tonight and apt to quiet reading instead of buying or charming his way into someone's bed. He hated being unfaithful, but only when he was himself. The embrace was sweet and Dorian did not demand anything of her at the moment. A calm had overcome him at the sight of her, and though he still didn't think entirely pure thoughts, he was better about his tongue.

He nearly started at the bite, not expecting it. "Hunting?" he recovered and lifted an eyebrow. "My dear, Whoso list to hunt dare not hunt me." He grinned and offered her a seat on the side of the bed. "It's not the same without you, sweetheart. Nothing is," he said absently, that warm feeling spreading through her chest. He pulled her to him again, gently, glad that she was even here. It was unexpected, but it was the nicest of surprises. "Do you have any exquisite reason for coming?"

[Ruby Gray]

These past few days spend in solitude, aside from Victor, had left her reflecting on her rather bizarre relationship with Dorian, in a way, she supposed they would always be toxic to each other. He would wound her and her spirit would forever demand retribution. Her vice was violence, his pleasure. They were a contradiction, a terribly wicked one at that, and yet it was this pull that bound them together. No matter how wicked he became she could never truly let him go. No matter how much blood stained her fair skin, he would forever seek her out. It was a vicious cycle, but one that she was slowly learning to glide with better. Perhaps they were growing together, learning to bend to accommodate another. It was curious.

She smiled against his skin as he jumped, started by her rather cruel action. Her body shook slightly in silent mirth before she drew away from him. As much as she enjoyed his body, she had run for the better part of the last eight or so hours, her legs were dreadfully sore... not that she would ever admit it, stubborn lass that she was. His voice seemed surprised, taken back, as he questioned her peculiar wording, but quickly he recovered and it was her turn to raise a brow in mild surprise.

“Thomas Wyatt? Poetry doesn't seem your style. Are you the deer in this story?” He guided her to his bed and she sat, turning her head to gaze at him. “Have I done what the hunter could not? Do I hold captive the untouchable deer?” Perhaps the wolf was aiding her, but she seemed to have found her wit this winters eve and even at his next words, her pretty green eyes lit with humor. “Lest you have a harem of werewolves, I doubt many things are the same without my participation.” She grinned wolfishly even as wrapped his arms around her. She relaxed against him. She allowed him to do what he would with her body. He had been so good to her as of late, he gave her his mansion, fortunes, name... although she rarely abused such privileges, he wasn't obliged to give her anything. She would allow him to do what he was comfortable with, allow him to keep his mind if he wished it. She was merely basking in the peace he brought her mind. ” Exquisite reason? Precious... I don't think I've ever had a reason to do anything in my life.” Rational thought was not always her friend. “As I lay in wait for the stable boy to come a receive his punishment, I was reminded of something I told you the night we met. An impulse decision to see you, smell you, sit here beside you.” She shrugged her shoulders complacently. “You are lucky it dawned on me to grab a bit of hunting gear, I fear I would have been navigating the streets bare otherwise... tarnishing your good name.” She chuckled softly.

[Dorian Gray]

It didn't really matter if Dorian tried to be good or not, because one way or another he would always end up in the same place he always did. He was always a narcissist. And one day, when someone really did exact their revenge, without someone there to dave him, Dorian would die and he knew exactly where he was headed. There was no making up for the sins he'd committed. They were numerous and beyond that, unforgivable. So he would have to live this earthly life to its most and drink to the lees. Of course, that ideology all changed when Ruby came along, because all he wished to do then was love and be loved.

A chord was struck within him at her every touch and he did his best not to be the cold man he'd been for the past three days. He wanted to show her that he could be composed... and there was probably something deep inside that also wanted to make up for the lovers he was not going to admit to taking so recently. He wanted her to have a better experience with him, one that she could hopefully hold onto when he was not so caring. He stroked her cheek and dragged her with him as he laid against the hard mattress. But he was gentle; he would not be forceful nor lusty today, he was promising himself, as difficult as that was. "Are you saying it does not suit me?" he asked, sarcastically offended. "Aye, yes, you are Caesar. Holder of the unattainable."

All he did in response to her next words was offer a short sound of approval. He did not wish to think of what he'd had in his bed lately. Instead, he stroked her hair and took pieces of it apart, spreading it about her head. "And which part of our original conversation would that be?" he murmured, focused on her hair. He then laughed, a truly uncalled for sound, saying, "Good name..." He had no good name lest wealth be a name. "Now, then, have you ever heard my name used by folk in a good way?"

[Ruby Gray]

She wondered sometimes, if Dorian forgot that she was a demon. He so oft made her out to be a beauty carved of innocence and pure love, but such was only true half of the time. She was rarely violent with him, abusing her strength to pin him, perhaps, but little else, her demon to outside eyes was easily forgotten, but it always lingered, waiting in the wings for that last, fatal slip-up. She had a handle on it, but she would never control it. If Dorian ever did meet his demise, perhaps she would be there to greet him in the darkness of the Underworld.

As they shifted to the bed, she relaxed, allowed herself to be pliable, not entirely submissive, but watching his touches, his reactions, the tiny flickers of emotion in the inky darkness of his eyes, and responded accordingly. Now, she did this almost subconsciously. For some, bizarre reason she was a loophole in his curse and he was allowed bits of himself that had not surfaced in many a year, they could and had spent nights together without lusty encounters, but it had taken time and patience for her to gauge just how much or how little she could touch him without alerting that damnable portrait of his, and that differed depending on his mood... let no one ever say she wasn't observant. He tugged her backwards and she sprawled backwards, her head pillowed on his bicep. “Some poetry would suit you, but certainly not a tome of love and undying devotion... you've never read poetry to me before, I do love it when you read to me.” One of her fondest memories of Dorian was a day spent in naught but his study, she had awoken sore and satisfied, had found him lounging in his study and with a soft yawn, she sprawled out beside him, head in his lap and he began to read out loud. She couldn't remember what he read, but after a time his fingers had delved into her hair, and that coupled with that low timbre of his voice... it was one of the most peaceful, serene experiences she could remember.

“Foolish deer, who claims to adore the wolf.” Her words were a murmur, her right hand rising to brush his hair back and out of his face, she gently traced the high line of his cheekbone, brushing the sinfully soft skin with a gentle touch before letting her hand fall uselessly between them. He toyed with her hair and she nearly groaned. Goosebumps broke out along her arms, she had always loved the feeling of someone playing with her hair. She hummed softly at his inquiry. ”I was about to have my way with you against the bar, before you suggested we do the proper thing and away to your manor. Patience is a virtue I lack.” She drawled lazily, content to lie beside him. She hadn't realized she shut her eyes until he laughed... such a rare sound and so alluring. She cracked a lazy smile at his jest and rolled her eyes. “Up until you met me I had heard your name in good standing. Didn't I tell you that I'm a wretched influence?”

[Dorian Gray]

Dorian knew what it meant to face a demon. He was one. But if Ruby thought that hers was something that was worth staying away from, she was wrong and nothing would keep him back. She'd tried that already, leaving him to his own devices to "heal" and become the hedonist he'd always been. But had that worked out well? No, it had not, and she better not try anything like that again, lest he drive himself to the point of insanity, even death. He could die, and he knew that.

And she sure knew him. She knew what did different things to him; she knew the limit he had before his curse became once again the dominant force. And she seemed to use this knowledge well, and at least not normally to gain some advantage. For this he was grateful when emotion manifested itself in him, and this was the reason he told her that he loved her. She knew him more than anyone had ever known him, maybe Dorian included, and yet she still stayed and cared for him. No one was like her, and so he supposed that their curses were somehow compatible. He pulled her to lay against him, chuckling slightly. "What, then? Petrarch? Or something darker... Donne? Poe? Shakespeare?" He smiled. "I would read to you, should you like it." And that was a promise.

He sighed. "That would make for quite the hunt, though," he responded gently, rubbing circles on her cheek. She was upon him, too, but wary of his reactions--that was, until he took to her hair and soon realized the volupté of the gesture. He dropped his hand. Her words froze him. He supposed that was true. "That would have been a time, my dear, but I am glad we at least made it here." The duality of his statement was more profound than he usually stated. He laughed, a bit of this romantic innocence drifting away. He could feel the pull of sin. "I have never been in good standing. Not in a long time. Then again, perhaps you never heard because I was good at keeping my personal affairs quiet." He was growing restless.

[Ruby Gray]

She knew she could never leave Dorian. Never permanently. Curse or no curse. Emotions or no. Dorian was apart of her, it didn't truly matter how they had wickedly coiled around one another, the fact simply was they had. The root was too deep, madness, insanity, lack of anything human awaited her should she ever try to remove him... that had been more than proven with Quincy. Without Dorian, the human side of Ruby failed to exist. The monstrosity of blood lust and power conquered her.

Her eyes widened mildly as he dragged her closer, usually such touches were beyond his control, she was so close to him, even through the layers of clothes she could feel his oppressive warmth. She held his gaze, eyes flooding with mirth as he listed off a few of the darker poets. “Poe? Poe would be a splendid match, he is fascinated by death and you oppose it. Shakespeare perhaps. Joyce? To be perfectly honest, I care little what you read me, I adore the sound of your voice when your fascinated with what you're reading. When your intrigued your voice drops just a few octaves lower and escapes in a lovely rumbling baritone. I look forward to hearing it again.” She drawled lazily, admitting things she normally kept hidden in her state of relaxation.

She smiled an almost knowing smile at the notion of a hunt, but spoke no more on such things. The last thing she wanted to recall right now was the taste of a fresh kill upon her tongue. All such thoughts fell from her once he touched her hair. She was his completely as dexterous fingers toyed absently with the long strands. She trembled beneath such an intimate touch, such things were absent in her childhood, aside from the occasional hug with Granny, and no one else had ever gotten so close to her. It relaxed her but sent chills racing along her spine. When he stopped, the soft whine of protest that left her throat was unstoppable. A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as she caught the subtle double meaning behind his words, placing the barest of kisses on his arm before responding. “As am I... I have loved you for years, its taken you long enough to catch up.” But even as she spoke, the frown tugged at her lips. She could see the curse dragging him away from her...again. She hummed softly, a quiet shushing sound escaping her as she shifted. Moving slowly, deliberately she wrapped an arm around his back and dragged him too her, tucking his head into the crook of her neck. Gently she ran her fingers about his spine, soothing him to the best of her ability. ”Fight it my heart, that wretched thing is far away, it doesn’t exist. Here there is no time, no earth aside from this bed. There are no demons or monsters... Just me, your Ruby, and my undying love for you. Wield that and fight it. I won't lose you so soon. She didn't want this to be just another mindless night of lust and she could tell he didn't either, she just prayed this would be a battle he could wage and conquer.

[Dorian Gray]

Dorian understood what he was doing and he knew how to watch for signs that his portrait was not well pleased with his actions. It was so odd; an unredeemable man being given a chance, at least with one other, to be somewhat human again. It probably wasn't what he deserved, and he thought it only fair that he should die by her hand. But that was not so, and she had never intended for it to be that way. Neither, accordingly, had fate. It was a marvel, truly. Dorian did not understand either magic or forgiveness; he was a product of both.

She looked mesmerized and Dorian could not help the smile that was growing over his lips. He smiled and grabbed a book with his free hand from the nightstand. It was an anthology; he loved poetry dearly. And just to keep that damned painting satisfied, he chose a more morbid, slightly hedonistic poem--and yet a humbling one, that would make of the mind a soup, a grievance. "Then read to you I shall, if it please you." With that, he looked to the page and began,

"The wind, that beats the mountain, blows
More softly round the open wold,
And gently comes the world to those
That are cast in gentle mould.

And me this knowledge bolder made,
Or else I had not dared to flow
In these words toward you, and invade
Even with a verse your holy woe..."

It was a long poem; it was beautiful and he thought she may enjoy it so. It helped too that he needed to keep his mind off the fact that he'd not seen her in days. He had touched her hair, not thinking, and forgot the reactions he could procure from her whenever he so desired. Her kiss caught him off guard and a breath caught in his throat as Dorian tried to fight off this coming feeling. He knew what it was. And he didn't want it coming back right now. Thinking elsewhere, he ventured to answer her. "You must admit that it's still a struggle. My curse does things yours does not, as does your own in comparison to mine..." He was trying to keep his words straight and his focus on remaining as he were.

He was having such a time with this. "Ruby, it's coming, and I cannot stop it. I am too weak to fight it right now; I've been too hedonistic these past days." He placed a gentle kiss on her lips, saying, "I wonder if I could take you gently, though..."

[Ruby Gray]

She wondered often what guilty thoughts lingered behind those inky black orbs. How often did he recall all the wrongs that portrait had helped him into, how often could he not even recall the wine he had consumed a few hours prior? It must be maddening, or so she thought, to love yourself, only to have it return in scattered pieces. There was little she could do to help him, and she wasn't sure if her presence helped or hindered him... she seemed to be both his savior and his damnation. Glass and eggshells had nothing against the dance she did around her husband... the word still sounded so odd against her tongue, but even now it made her smile.

She followed his movements, keen eyes missing nothing. From the flexing of muscles along his arms to the way his torso twisted as he reached behind him to grab the hard backed book from the nightstand. It was... amazing to have eyes like hers, keen enough to catch such subtleties otherwise naked to the human eye, she wondered how so many lived ignorant and blind to the true world of colors and possibilities around them. She hummed her approval as he answered her, intending to please her right now. A smile crossed her lips, her eyes fluttered close, and she involuntarily shivered in the simple anticipation of his low voice speaking just for her. He would never know it, but moments like this were more precious to her than any gem, any jewel, any trinket that he could ever buy her. He could buy anyone a gown of finest silks or a sparkling sapphire that gleamed in even the fading sunlight, but no one got to see this tamed, gentle side of him, except for her. This was her Dorian. The piece of him she had all to herself.

Speak he did. The lengthy poem dripping from his lips like liquid glass. She let that low rumble twine with her skin, sink into her soul, she absorbed the sound, wished to brand it, make it an ever-lasting memory, it made the hard seven hour race worth every ache she would feel come the morning. It was a beautiful piece. She felt utterly exhausted and absolutely enthralled all at the same time. “You have such a beautiful voice Dorian. That piece was lovely.” The words took a moment to fall from her lips as he finished, she was still letting the words soak into her, taking both the beauty of the poem and Dorian's voice with it. They lapsed into silence thereafter, only shattered as he finally thought to answer her soft words. “Some things are not meant to be understood, by someone unaffected by an action. Your curse is your burden to bare as is mine. I only try to be a beacon, of hope, of light when it begins to drag you away, because that’s what you are to mine. If I think of you, your voice, your smile, my demon doesn’t seem so dreadful.” Her words were drawled, she was still fairly drunk on the simple sound of his voice, she wanted to kiss him, a soft thank you perhaps, a gentle touch of gratitude, but things were not so simple with Dorian, a touch made of thanks would be interpreted as lust, she couldn't risk such a brazen mood, not now, not when he reclaimed so much of himself.

Her touches did nothing, her words could not overpower the curse that had so tightly wrapped around her soul and for a brief moment, so brief in fact that not even a full second had passed, her eyes turned a brilliant gold and her canines lengthened to fangs and she damned whatever force had instilled upon him such a curse. No he wasn't perfect, but damn it, times like these when he tried, tried so hard to be someone better, someone different, they stole such emotions from him and for all of her strength, for all of her speed, for all of her knowledge of battles and their tactics... she could do nothing to help him, but half a second later, she returned to him, pulling back enough to see his face, a gentle understanding, a soft smile painted on her lips, her hand moved upward from his back to his hair, tugging gently. “If you think it would help my love, I am yours. Forever and in all ways.” Her answer was simple, but she loved him. The choice was his eternally, she lay beside him, still fairly motionless and let him take this at his own pace, gentleness was a touch out of her realm anyway.

[Dorian Gray]

Dorian did not love himself. He had not held such profound emotion for his own being in a long time, and self-loathing was about the closest he could come. So he drank in the pleasure; but now he had found Ruby and he held some odd feeling for her, something that was so close to love but still out of reach. He told her that he loved her. Maybe it was true. He wanted it to be true, and that should count.

He didn't see the world through the same lens as Ruby; this he knew. But Dorian understood that she had senses much stronger than his own and she was so damn in tune with him that it simply wasn't fair. He did not get to catch the same subtleties of her movements that she caught of his. He knew how to enjoy her but never could see much past the pleasure's veil. But he would do anything that would please her, because he thought he really did love her. She was the only person in the world that knew him this well. So, hell, of course he would read to her. Anything that would light those dazzling eyes with a smile. The poem was lengthy but he could feel her relaxing as she held onto him, making his voice lower a bit more in happiness. He could feel her love, feel her happiness, and there was, in that moment, nothing else that Dorian would have wanted. He had a time trying to be good to her and so often did he fail that when magical minutes like this one passed, he could do naught but smile.

"You're a flatterer," he murmured gently, returning to stroking her hair. He thought, meditated on her words but he could not come up with any sensible response. His demon was coming back and he could only watch. "You're good to me. You're the only reason I've ever broken my curse."

And so Dorian was losing control of himself. He wanted to savor whatever was left of his loving, emotional self, and he wanted to share it with Ruby. So he was going to let himself fall and she'd always be there for him. He knew. Pulling her face gently to her, Dorian placed gentle kisses on her lips, the chaste feeling of their softness so endearing. He pulled her gently to him, stroking her with all the care and affection this tenderness would allow. His curse may come undone soon, but he wanted to be such a gentle lover. He ran his fingers through her hair.

[Ruby Gray]

It was curious, his curse. He could conquer it, keep it at bay for only rough amounts of time. He enjoyed her company, he laughed and joked with her, whisked her away for passionate nights, and locked her in his study for conversation. She loved the unpredictability of him, there was nary a droll day... but... what would he do when she grew older? When her body began to fail her? When she was no longer a thing of beauty would he cast her away? It twisted something painful deep within her chest to think of such things, but he was immortal and she was not. Time did not stand still for her.

Then, of course, he did small things for her, defying his curse, his very soul, his very being to please her. As much as he enjoyed his books, there was no obligation that he need read to her and yet he had. He had answered her request with little more than a smile and fell into a lengthy, winded poem that she focused each and every one of her exquisite senses on. Her compliment was a way of saying thank you. It was moments like this when his curse no longer lingered that she was reminded why she loved him. Why, that even he did one day cast her aside, she would still watch him, still look after him, still protect him. A soft snort and a crack of eye gleamed in the darkness as he continued to pet her. "I don't think anything aside from death will break your curse love, and I much prefer you breathing, won't you live a few more years for me?" She cracked a tiny smile. There was nothing else she could do, she doubted even Gold could aide him with his curse.

Ruby couldn't decide if she was anxious, curious, terrified, or perhaps a rough mixture of all three.Dorian could not feel, for the most part, past the superficial of fleeting emotions, but she could not be tender, soft, or sweet. Gentleness, was a concept beyond her. Every cell in her body was tinged with a desire for violence and hate. She was a creature wrought from aggression, not from compassion. His desire to take her like a true lover made her nervous, nut never one to displease him, she let him lead. Stroking the length of her body, her hair, her face. His kisses were gentle and sweet, barely there brushes of skin, which, despite her exhaustion, brought life and excitement coursing through her veins. He dragged her too him and she shuddered. "Dori..."