Chapter 11
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By the time they left the restaurant, night had seeped over Dunworth. The streets had emptied for the most part. A few couples strolled along, hushed giggles and whispers drifting across the falling snow. If one did not look too close, Fletcher and Hazel could have passed for the same as they walked close against the cold.

    The two of them did not speak of the secrets that hung over their heads. Things unsaid hung between them, words like poison. The tenderness lingered. The desire to touch was akin to hunger and they were starving. 

    They reached Brair’s Bed and Breakfast just like that. The chill of the winter air soon faded as the warmth of the inn enveloped them. 

   

    The red-headed man was still at the counter. He nodded at them as they passed by. “Good evening,” he commented, looking up from the sketch pad he was doodling in. “It’s a cold one.”

    “It is,” Fletcher agreed but did not glance at him. “Good evening.”

    It was not until they reached their suite and Fletcher had latched the door behind him that he finally turned to Hazel. 

    I-” he began, a look of pain on his face, “Is there something I can do? To free you?”

    "Unless you can remove Garth or protect my sisters from him...I don't know." 

    “Remove…” Fletcher repeated, pacing back and forth. That was a pleasant thought. The creature in his chest growled, the sound echoing in his ears. But, that was something he could not allow himself to do. A line he had never crossed hung over his head. 

    Do not kill a human and you can still maintain your humanity. 

    “How much is your debt,” he asked without ceasing his pacing. 

    Hazel sighed, brushing their cloak away from their shoulders and onto a chair. “I don’t know. Lord Garth never would say the amount. I wager he has no intention of letting any of his clerics go.”

    They sat on the bed, their hands folded in their lap. “Giving in always felt like my only choice...”

    Fletcher halted, leaning against the wall. “I see.”

    He licked his lips nervously. They were chapped from the cold wind. “I suppose getting the crystals removed would put your family in danger.” 

    Removing embedded crystals was more painful than getting them in. After the procedure healed, the magic became a part of the person. It was like ripping off a limb to remove them.

    He took a deep breath, finally turning to Hazel. “I’m sorry.” 

    Helplessness was a feeling he was very familiar with. It didn't make it hurt less. He sat down next to them, legs brushing against their skirt. The words did not come. This truly meant this was the only time they had together. The disappointment suited his life. But perhaps it was better this way. 

    “I’m being selfish,” he muttered, softly. “I wish we had longer. Your presence has been dangerous for my solitude.” 

    He smiled, the expression too wide to be genuine. “I’ve never-”, Fletcher started, “I’ve never been in love before. I don’t know what this is.”

    “Love...” Hazel breathed the word, looking up into Fletcher’s eyes like burning cinders. “This is the first time for me too.”

    “There are things I cannot give you, Hazel,” Fletcher swallowed hard. “I cannot give you freedom or-or children.”

    That stung him. He had considered it a blessing that his cursed genes would die with him. But like everything he had built up for years, walls around his heart and impeccable self-control had come crashing down when he met them. 

    Hazel took a deep breath, leaning in closer. There were mere centimeters between them now. This moment felt like nothing and everything at the same time. 

    “W...what can you give me?” Hazel whispered as their hand moved and found its place on Fletcher’s leg.

    He sucked in a sharp breath, bringing one hand up to cover his mouth. “I-,” Fletcher began. 

    His gaze drifted down to where Hazel’s fingers lay. “The good parts of me,” he murmured, leaning into their body. “What little there is.”

    The fading scent of flowers and the underlying earthy musk of human skin was thick as he breathed. The perfume of them made his head spin as he reached for their face, cradling their cheek gently. 

    “There are..things about me that you deserve better than,” he whispered, lips ghosting against their ear as he spoke. 

    “I- I think all of you is good.” Hazel’s breath caught in their throat. “I couldn’t ask-” They inhaled sharply. “-For better.”

    Fletcher pulled back. His face was flushed and almost manic. “I’m sorry I-” 

    In the dim lamplight, Hazel’s eyes had closed. Keen shivers shuddered through them that he was not certain had anything to do with the cold. Their pretty lips had fallen open, the red as bright as autumn leaves against their pale skin. 

    Then he closed what little gap was left, pressing a kiss to Hazel’s slackened mouth. 

    Hazel’s body relaxed against his and bent forward into him, their hand rising to his shirt. 

    Fletcher fell deeper and deeper into the kiss, his mind and body swimming in warmth. He would be willing to drown in it. He'd be willing to die in it. 

    Finally, he came up for air, chest heaving against Hazel’s delicate fingertips. They twitched as he pulled away, leaning after him as though to prevent the kiss’s end.

    "Hazel...” He said their name like a prayer, reverent and full of desire. Gaze slipping from their eyes to their lips and then to their neck, he licked his lips. Fletcher ran his thumb over their bottom lip. “I’ve ruined your pretty lipstick.“ 

    The vivid crimson had become a more subdued shade of red, slightly escaping the shape of Hazel’s lips in places.

    “I...can always put on more...” Hazel gasped, eyes waiting like they teetered on the edge of the world behind those dark lashes.

    “Th-There is no need for that, Hazel,” Fletcher placed another kiss on their lips, this time feather-soft and almost chaste in its gentleness. “We should turn in. We have to be up early to get a carriage.”

    “Y-you are right...” They nodded weakly and returned the kiss with one of their own, lips gently tugging at Fletcher’s. 

    The sudden initiative elicited a groan from Fletcher, steadying himself against their waist with one hand. 

    “H-Hazel,” he said their name against their lips. The blood that was not rushing southward was pounding in his ears like a drum. His free hand went to rest on the back of their neck. 

    It was his turn to look dazed, eyes half closed and a dusting of pink over his cheeks. “You’re going to make it d-difficult to settle down.”

    “I apologize...” Hazel whispered, gazing deeply into his stunned eyes, “It just felt...so nice.” Their carefully done braid was beginning to come apart. Hands slowly rising, they pulled the ribbon free and sent the brunette tresses flowing over their shoulders.

    "We-” Fletcher swallowed thickly. “We have time later.”

    Not enough. Never enough.

    In truth, he was not sure how much more he could take. Every caress was like jumping into an icy lake, taking his breath away and making his fingertips shake where they lingered. He was only so strong and as much as he’d like to push forward, he wanted to do this as right as possible

    “I’d like nothing more than to stay up with you until dawn,” he murmured, running a hand through their loose hair. It was soft, like mahogany silk. 

    Hazel gazed up at him and shifted into his touch. Eyes closing to soak in the sensation of Fletcher’s hand on their face, they cupped his hand to their cheek and held it gently.

    He kissed their forehead, letting his lips linger. “But we need our rest, Miss Hazel.” Finally, he pulled from them, the movement like ripping off a limb as he stood. Letting them go to Garth was going to be difficult. Fletcher averted his eyes, glancing at his reflection in the mirror. 

    Tousled hair. Reddened face. Dazed eyes. 

        Dammit. 

    His eyes slipped past his face to Hazel’s in the mirror. 

    Hazel let their hand fall to their lap. Their breath was deep and raspy as they stared at their fingers.

    Moving suddenly, Hazel pulled the ribbon on the dress’s neck loose, exposing the bare skin of their collar. Then they pulled it down off their shoulders until a black lacy bra was revealed.

    “Ha-Hazel,” he stammered. Though his back was to them, the mirror showed the scene to him. His blushing face, wide-eyed, traced Hazel’s bare milky skin.

    Hazel’s chest was small, nearly flat but there was an unmistakable arched shape. Taking in a deep breath, they stood behind Fletcher, wrapping their arms around his waist and burying their face in his back.

    The heat of their body was intense. He made a noise, halfway between a groan and growl, and turned on the spot to face them. 

    “Hazel,” Fletcher said, raspy but firm as he went to hold them by the waist, hands tracing the boning on their corset. “Is this what you truly want?”

    Hazel did not say anything, leaning forward, lifting both arms, dress hanging by their elbows, and taking Fletcher by his shirt collar. They breathed deeply, and then pulled Fletcher down to them, his lips solidly pressed to their lips.

    Fletcher yelped, eyes wide. This night had already been surprising. His heart was a war drum in his chest. The room swam before his half-lidded eyes. 

    Then... he melted, leaning close into Hazel’s body. He deepened the kiss, his grip around their waist tightening as if to become one with Hazel.

    Perhaps that was a good idea.

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