#charmandwits

wc: 300

This came to me about 30 min ago while I was out to lunch with my mother for her birthday—so I wrote it on a napkin. I really, really need to start carrying a notepad. x.x

Rose Belikov remembers what it was like to be young and completely, totally in love.. She understands the way the brush of your hand against his makes your breath catch in your throat and your  heart start to race while a million butterflies erupt in your stomach—because even after being with Dimitri for so many years, she still feels that way whenever he touches her.

Over the years she had watched her daughter, Anya and Isaac—who she loved like a son—as they grew and matured, catching them gazing longingly in each other’s direction, only to glance away blushing in the event they were caught in the act. She’d seen the look of amazement in their eyes when they casually touched, and the way they always gravitated towards each other, like iron shaving to a magnet—but she held her tongue, waiting for them to figure it all out on their own. That’s why when everyone was gathered together for a family meal and she saw Anya discreetly slip out of the room followed a moment later by Isaac, she didn’t say anything. She just watched them silently, her dark eyes sparkling with amusement, her lips curling up in a small, secretive smile when she heard a door down the hall quietly closing a moment after their hasty exit.

Her amusement, however, was very short lived.

A few minutes after they’d escaped for their little tryst, when Christian appeared and announced that dinner would be served as soon as the missing teenagers turned up, her smile immediately faded, a scowl taking its place. Handing Hannah over to Dimitri, she stood up and heading for the hall to round up the two lovebirds with a determined expression on her face.

charmandwits replied to your post:charmandwits replied to your post:….welcome to my...

…DIMITRI STOP UNFING

Dropping the last of her clothing on the floor, Anya stared into the bathroom mirror, chastising herself for being nervous. It was absolutely ridiculous to feel so apprehensive—Isaac knew her body as well as he knew his own, having kissed and caressed every inch of it a million times over the years. But… that was before. Before he’d been gone for such a long, long time. Before she’d matured, becoming a woman.

Before the Strigoi.

Her brown eyes were locked on the image displayed before her as she reached up, trailing her fingers over one of the long, jagged hypertrophic scars that marred her once smooth skin. They started just below her collarbone, decorating her torso with a myriad of slashes and swirls, the carvings of a cruel, methodical artist who’d been determined to cause her as much pain as possible. A grimace contorted her features as her breathing quickened and she squeezed her eyelids closed, trying to fight off a panic attack as the memory of that night slammed into her.

In the space of a few heartbeats she transformed from a nervous woman preparing herself for the man she loved to a pain riddled victim, strapped to a table and fighting not to scream as her captor’s  silver blade dug into her skin, over and over again. She hadn’t given in—not at first—holding her pain and terror inside because if she screamed, Ivan would hear and come charging in to rescue her. She’d tried so hard to keep him safe, but in the end, it had been no use.

Her godmother had offered time and time again to remove the ugly marks away—it would be a simple matter of reopening the wounds and then using spirit to heal them, but she refused ever time the offer was made, either changing the subject or leaving the room entirely as soon as it was mentioned. There was no way she would let her own vanity hurt her aunt, and  that’s exactly what use of so much spirit would be, adding an unnecessary burden to Aunt Lissa’s mind over. Even  more importantly, those scars were a constant, ever present reminder of how she’d failed her cub when he’d needed her the most and how high a price he had paid to save her from the Strigoi who had captured her.

“I’m so sorry, Detenysh…so, so sorry.”  

The words were just a whisper, but they were laced with the ocean of tears she had shed since that night, tears that even now filled her eyes as she remembered how her sweet, sweet brother had looked that night in the cabin when he’d opened his  eyes and looked over at her. Those beautiful, soulful brown eyes that she loved so much, with a ring of red around the pupil giving testament to what he had become.

Because of her.

His voice echoed through her memory, cold and unemotional as he’d released the ties that bound her to the table and compelled her to run as far and as fast as she could, before he gave into the hunger that consumed him.

She'd skipped out on her afternoon classes something she'd no doubt pay for the next day, earning yet another detention—but it would be completely worth it. 

She’d thought she’d be able to pull it off—acting like nothing was wrong and that everything as the same between them. She was discovering how wrong she was with each second she spent in his presence.  She couldn’t even  look  at him without remembering the thing Katarina had bragged about—she kept picturing the things in her head, over and over again, and it filled her with a fury the likes of which she’d never experienced before. It was so strong that she couldn’t help but wonder if this was how her mama had felt when the darkness had taken over her—a hot, throbbing feeling, as if a fire had ignited in the center of her body and was slowly burning her to ash.

Glancing up at her best friend as he joked and kidded around, her gaze fastened on his lips—lips she pictured running over that Moroi bitches skin as he hovered over her the night of the party, whispering words of love between kisses. That was when she felt the last vestige of the fragile hold she had on her emotions shatter at her feet, making her lash out at him in a way that took her completely by surprise.