Seismic Shift Chapter 2

I knew I did from that first moment we met.

It was… not love at first sight exactly, but-

familiarity. Like: oh, hello, it's you.

It's going to be you.

~Mhairi McFarlane

“By all the gods and saints, Jesus and his disciples and anything else you might or might not believe in! You scared me!”

“Who are you?”  

“Did you just hiss at me?” I jumped down off the moss covered rock and sauntered to the middle of the clearing like he hadn't just stopped my heart and kick-started it again. “The better question is who are you?” I spun to face him, not surprised that he'd silently followed me.

“I have never seen you before, and I know each and every resident of Forks,” he basically snarled at me, which only brought my attention to his expressive mouth.

“Oh, well that's an easy one.” I folded my arms across my breasts and stared him down. Man, was he attractive. “I don't live in Forks.”

That seemed to bring him up short. “Then why are you here?”

“You might have been alive during the Spanish Inquisition, but I'm not that old. What's with all the questions?” I plopped down in the grass and folded my legs up in front of me. Despite the season and the sun, it was never more than slightly warm here in this region of Washington, except in the summer when the humidity could choke you. I was wearing jeans and sneakers, a tank top and a plaid overshirt. This guy, however, was in jeans and what appeared to be a sweater under his peacoat.

He sniffed the air as though he was examining my scent. “You are not like anyone else I have met. Where did you come from?” He was still standing there, looking down at me with this crazy expression on his avenging angel’s face.

“Ain't that a question for the ages. Did you miss the weather report this morning? It's sixty degrees, not forty.”

“I… just came back from a trip.” Now he looked perplexed at my change of subject, which I found amusing.

“Sure you did. Did you run home?” I had to squint to look at him with the sun behind him glowing like a halo.

“From my trip? Why would I do that?” he was sounding more and more exasperated the more I dominated the conversation.

“Because you're a vampire, of course. That would be the- hey!” I hollered at him when he moved with that unnatural speed again, grabbing my forearm as he leaned way too close into my personal space.

“Who. Are. You? Who sent you? Why are you here?” he growled angrily. The meadow became eerily silent; all the creatures great and small knew to fear this terrifying being.

Except, he wasn't hurting me. I didn't even think it would have hurt if I'd been a run of the mill human, but he made it extremely clear he was furious. “Get your hands off me, calm the fuck down, and then maybe we can talk!” I shouted, unfazed by his temper but unwilling to be manhandled.

He was instantly across the meadow, looking contrite. Incrementally, his eyes lightened around the edges, morphing into an amber shade until his pupils were almost a normal size. “I apologize. I should never have laid a hand on you. I thought-” He stopped himself and looked down, his expression one of shame.

“You thought I was sent to lure you in? To charm you into coming with me so the pack could tear you limb from limb? That's not really my style.”

“You are not Quileute,” he stated quietly.

“No, but I live with them.” I didn't hesitate in my response. It was obvious he knew about the Quileute pack, so there was no use denying it.

He moved nearer. Not very much, just enough to step away from the shelter of the trees. There was a subtle glint of refracted light that bounced off what little of his pale skin was exposed. “You speak of the pack so casually.”

I rolled my eyes. “I mean, I know it's a secret and all, but you're kind of in on the secret,” I whispered the last part.

He stepped forward again, with grace that reminded me of the mountain lion. Thank the gods I wasn't a lamb, or he just might devour me. “But you are not one of them? A shifter?”

“What makes you say that?” I wondered. He couldn’t possibly know for sure.

“You do not smell like a rabid dog that has been traipsing through a swamp and left to bake in the sun for a week.”

I laughed indelicately. “And you don't smell like an over chlorinated pool. I wonder why that is?”

He crept closer. “You can… smell me?”

“Yep.”

“So you are. A shifter, that is.” He sank fluidly to the ground in front of me, and my body instinctively leaned toward his.

“I am, but I didn't come from the tribe. I came from...  the north.” That was as close to the truth as anything.

“I am truly sorry for touching you earlier. It was unacceptable.” His face was a mask of contrition.

I shrugged. “Eh, you felt threatened. Just don't let it happen again. I'd hate to break your fingers.” I grinned winningly.  

He looked shocked, his eyebrows lifting into his hairline. “But my skin-”

“Yeah, yeah, hard as stone and twice as durable. Werewolf, remember?” I said, pointing to myself.  

“I find you fascinating,” he admitted, and a breeze fluttered his auburn hair. I stared at him as he stared at me, mesmerized by his angles and sharp features.

“Uh, what?” Not really the best retort, but I was truly baffled that he found me fascinating.

He laughed, and it brightened my whole day to hear the beautiful sound. “What is your name?”

“Isabella- Bella.”

“My name is Edward. Edward Cullen.”

I smiled in latent recognition. “You're part of the coven they warn me away from all the time.”

Edward's brow furrowed. “Do they? But my family has a treaty agreement with them that I would never jeopardize.”

“Yeah. They seem to think you'd eat one of us if we ran into you off the reservation. Clearly I don't think so, or I wouldn't be here.”

He caught a strand of my hair between his long, pale fingers as it blew in the wind. He was sitting close enough now that our knees bumped. It made me yearn for skin to skin contact, to cup his prominent cheekbone in my hand and rub my thumb under his eye where it looked slightly bruised.

“We have always been peaceful, but there was a pair of nomads in their history that were violent. It is understandable that they should be wary. They have no reason to trust my family.” I realized a little dreamily that I could listen to his voice all day.

“So what do you… eat? If you're peaceful.” I felt my heart beating faster, and figured he could hear it as it raced. There would be few secrets between us, I realized a little wryly.

“Animals. They are plenty, here in the forest. Deer, mostly. The occasional mountain lion. My brother prefers bear,” he chuckled, as though there was an inside joke.

“What is your family like?” I found myself wanting to know everything about him.

“Let me see. Carlisle came first; he is my creator, and then he created Esme, his wife. Carlisle is a doctor at the hospital in Forks. Esme works on architectural designs online under a pseudonym. Then there was Rosalie. Carlisle saved her, and a few years later she saved Emmett, the brother that enjoys wrestling bears. My last two siblings joined us as an established couple; Alice and Jasper.” He looked pensive for a moment after his brief description.

“It's interesting that you refer to them as your siblings. You're a family, not a coven, aren't you?”

Edward smiled. “We are. We have bonds like any other family would. I know your tribe has painted us as heathens, but we truly are not.”

“I never believed you were. After all, there wouldn't be anything stopping you from breaking the treaty if you were as ruthless as they paint you. You have the advantage, obviously.”

“Do we, Bella?” Long unused parts of me tingled at the way his tongue caressed my name.

“If you were intent on destruction, yes,” I breathed.

“And would you give away the maneuvers of the tribe?” he murmured, and it was suddenly as if he was testing me and my loyalty.

I sat back, breaking the spell he seemed to have me under. “No, not even close.” I had to take a deep breath to steady myself, and I caught that honey and leather scent of his again. “Even though I don't think you have malicious intent, I'll not betray the people that care for me.”

“Fair enough.” He watched a tiny yellow butterfly floating in the distance. Sweat trickled down my back. “I suppose I should pay more attention to the weather before leaving the house, lest I draw unnecessary attention to myself.” He gave me a self-deprecating smile that broke the tension surrounding us.

I laughed lightly. “That's probably a good idea.” I played with the grass for a moment, letting the blades slide between my fingers. “Will you come back here?”

“I come here all the time,” he replied.

I frowned. “Really? So do I.” I'd never run into him before, so why now?

He stood, an incredibly graceful movement that reminded me of the lion again. “Until next time,” he said, extending a hand down to help me up.

I accepted it, and I was completely shocked at the temperature of his skin. He should have felt cold, freezing even, against my heightened warmth. Instead, he felt… right.

He looked down at our clasped hands in consternation, then gently tugged me to a standing position. I simply stared at his face until he glanced up at me, eyes black again. Something inside me recoiled, but I wasn't afraid of him. I was fascinated, to use his word.

“Bye,” I whispered, and he was gone from the meadow, leaving me longing for his touch.

Seismic Shift Chapter 1

All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of S. Meyer. The original plot is the only thing that belongs to me. All poems are credited to their original owner. No copyright infringement is intended.

Credit to SarcasticBimbo for her beta skills, coppertopj and starsmina for pre-reading.

My facebook link is on my profile.

And I have a blog for better (read: x-rated) pictures- MeteorOnAMoonlessNight dot blogspot dot com

I came up with the idea for this story when I was looking at Twilight pictures on Tumblr that focused on the wolf pack. Bella has no recollection of her past or how she came to be a shapeshifter; she doesn’t have Quileute blood, but she still considers them family because they have spent years raising her as their own. Her independence is reflected in her refusal to toe the line, resulting in extreme tension between the vampires and the werewolves. We follow her journey as she struggles to find her place in the world off the reservation, with Edward by her side. With or without the tribe’s permission.

So far, I’m considering this to be moderate angst, but it depends on your definition. I won’t be offering any more warnings in author's notes.

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She balances the dualism

Of her mind

And physicalism

Remaining kind

Strength is her essence

There's no need for pretense

She's a thinker

Not afraid to learn

And forward unto others

The passionate burn

Sharing wisdom

Yet spirit staying free

Wild animal that is inside her

This wolf that is she.

~ Michelle Schaper

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They call me wolf girl, or sometimes just kwoli. They say I'm strange; I don't follow any of their rules, and that perplexes them. They are an ancient people made up of complex rules passed down throughout the generations. I have no true family, surviving on my own in the deepest part of the woods so far north I was nearly in Makah territory. The wolves were my friends, the deer my constant companions. The mountain lion was my prey, Ozette Lake both my bathtub and swimming pool. When I needed shelter, I huddled with the wolf pack under a rock outcropping. I am, and always have been, a fierce survivor.

They tell me there have only been two earthquakes in the Pacific Northwest in the last half century, one sixteen years ago and again when they found me five years ago.

Earthquakes are feared by the Quileutes as a sign that they've angered their ancestors in some way. From what they tell me, there was a shifting of the ground the year I was four that caused my parents’ car to crash into a hemlock tree. The vehicle was never found, and neither were the occupants. I can't say that I remember anything of how I came to be living in the forest, just that it's been my home for a very long time.

Or it was. The year I was fifteen there was another seismic shift. It started far north and moved down toward the reservation in the town of La Push, Washington. The elders ordered a scouting party to head all the way to the beginning of the massive crack left in the earth to determine the cause. That was when they found me.

To better survive, I wasn't in my human form, and the Quileutes didn't know what to make of me. Not the first shapeshifter, and surely not the last, I was the only one to not have been born within their tribe. I didn't know English, or the Quileute language, and I couldn't communicate with them nor they with me. However, there was one among them that knew what I was.

He showed me how he changed, and I watched the air shiver and sparkle, his skin glittering moments before it exploded into fur the color of the moonless night. In that form, we communicated without words, using our visions and memories of the past to explain. He showed me his reservation, his people, and the only other man like him. Like us. He showed me a beautiful dark haired girl he held great affection for, and her parents and brother. I got the impression I was to come with them and not return to the forest.

Part of me yearned to run, to let my muscles bunch and coil and then finally release, sending me far from these men that wanted my life to change. But then I recalled his feelings of affection and love, the warmth and comfort of home, and the parts of my soul that were still human craved to experience what he felt.

With no self-consciousness, I concentrated on the remnants of my mortality and allowed the current to run untethered through my veins. It felt like an electric shock, like lightning striking, and with a sound like rolling thunder I was standing there on two legs instead of four. Long brown hair fell over my shoulders, and I stretched my fingers and toes simply because it felt good to do so.

It wasn't until I realized the men were standing yards in front of me with their eyes closed that I regretted not having clothing. It was not something I'd had to worry about since I was a very little girl. A long jacket was held out to me, and I accepted it to cover a body even I was unfamiliar with. The walk was long but not arduous as we headed back toward their village. I didn't understand what they were saying once the man shifted back, but I know now they were discussing how best to deal with me.

The Clearwaters were respected members of the tribe, and the only family with a girl my general age. When we reached the reservation in the town of La Push, I was taken immediately to their home. The introductions were rudimentary at best, but that day I gained a mother and father figure and two siblings, Leah and Seth. Over the next five years, Sue was tireless in taking on the role of my mother; teaching me to speak not only English, but the complicated and ancient Quileute language. She taught me how to cook, she taught mathematics and science, how to read and how to love books. I found such a passion for books and the places they could take me. I was often in the woods reading, using the stories as a means to escape, when I should have been doing something else. It didn't take long for me to outlearn Sue and her school books.

One of the things my new father, Harry Clearwater, and the other Quileute elders tried to teach me was their legends. I couldn't understand why I was an anomaly, why I wasn't a tribe member but I could still call upon the shape of my spirit animal. I didn't know why I could change into a giant white wolf when I concentrated hard enough, but I was as pale a pale face as any other caucasian in the area outside the reservation. I didn't have tribal blood running through my veins, at least I didn't think I did, but I was a shapeshifter and so were two others in the tribe. Sam, who had come to find me that day in the woods, was now twenty-five, and Jared, who was twenty-three. They spent hours talking to me about the true purpose of the werewolves, as they called themselves, to protect the members of the tribe.

I admit, at first I found it laughable when they explained the legends, and that they all believed that there had been a gang of rogue cold ones that enjoyed drinking the blood of the pretty young women in the tribe, and that the men had exploded into wolves in anger to protect them all from their imminent peril. But then, the more they spoke of the Apotamkin, the more believable they sounded. I actually found myself picturing a few of them with their pale skin and strange colored eyes and unnatural stillness. When they confessed that a coven of blood drinkers lived nearby and were forbidden from stepping one foot on our land, I wondered what they looked like, smelled like, how they lived and what they ate. Were they ruthlessly killing the townspeople of Forks? Did they venture to Alaska to pick off Eskimos? I was intrigued.

I was reprimanded for not taking the legends more seriously. I was told to buckle down and study about the cold ones and the legends so that I would know to always avoid them. I was cautioned to not be so reckless and to stay away from them no matter what.

My acquiescence appeased them, but they couldn't contain me. I was twenty years old, and I often left the reservation whenever I wanted to wander in the woods. I could cover distances most of them had never considered, and that didn't include what I was capable of when I phased. Unless Sam and Jared were in their wolf form as well, I could escape to solitude.

It was on a day full of rare northwest sunshine that I first stumbled across one of them. He was laying on his back in a meadow, almost obscured by the tall purple wildflowers that shuddered in the wind because even they knew to be frightened of him. I caught his scent, an intoxicating blend of leather and pine and, I don't know, cinnamon and honey, maybe. In my human form, I crouched on a boulder downwind of the creature in the hopes of observing him for awhile before I was discovered.

When he lifted one long fingered hand, his skin sparkled like mine did in the exact moment I shifted. He absently flicked at a fat bumble bee that hovered near his temple, and I watched in fascination as it fell to its death. His hair shone red in the light that filtered through the canopy of trees, and it was mesmerizing to see it blow in the breeze like invisible hands were running through it.

I never saw it coming; one second he was lazing in the grass as though he hadn’t a care in the world, the next he was perched on the boulder a foot in front of me, depthless black eyes glaring at me furiously. Despite thinking I was brave, I had the same reaction most people would have when coming face to face with a vampire.

I screamed.

Angry All The Time Outtake- Mike

Many people asked for a look at what was going through Mike's head. This fits in with chapter 24.

Angry All The Time Outtake- Tanya

This was just for fun, becasue a lot of readers asked to hear about Tanya. I hope you enjoy!

Angry All The Time Epilogue

I saw that you were perfect,

and so I loved you.

Then I saw that you were not perfect,

And I loved you even more.

~Angelita Lim

Angry All The Time Chapter 40

Angry All The Time Chapter 39

Angry All The Time Chapter 38

Angry All The Time Chapter 37

Angry All The Time Chapter 36

Angry All The Time Chapter 35

There is one who you belong to, whose love- there is no song for.

And though you know it's wrongful, there is someone else you long for.

Your heart was once a vessel, it was filled up to the brim;

Until the day he left you, now everything sings of him.

Of the two who came to love you, to one, your heart you gave.

He lives in stars above you- in the love who came and stayed.

~Lang Leav, Lost Love

Angry All The Time Chapter 34

Angry All The Time Chapter 33

Angry All The Time Chapter 32

"There is so much history in the way he looks at her.

In the way he says her name.

When they are together, there is a current that runs between them;

like an electric charge on the verge of erupting into a perfect storm.

I don't love her anymore, he says.

And it's the way he says, her- That tells me otherwise."

~Lang Leav, Her

Angry All The Time Chapter 31

Perdition Epilogue

5 years later

EPOV

Through all the years she was gone, through the distrust and anger I felt when she returned, I never expected to find this much happiness. Not with her, not alone, not with anyone else.

God, I was pissed to see her again when she came back to Forks. The way she hid and then ran at her own mother’s funeral, and for Charlie to tell me she was engaged to fucking Jacob Black, was enough to eradicate any love I’d held on to. I wanted to hate her, to despise her. I tried to, desperately. Running into her in the grocery store in what had become my home town, was enough to seal her fate as far as I was concerned. I was pissed at her for working in that dive bar, for acting like her life had just gone on without me. Like there hadn’t been pain and regret on either side.

But through all her scared and clumsy attempts to explain to me what was truly going on, she merely reminded me about the parts of her I found endearing.

The way a blush so easily creeps onto her cheeks, enhancing her natural beauty. The way she stutters just a little when she’s unsure of herself but determined to get all of her thoughts out into the open. The way her hands flutter as she speaks, like she’s trying to paint a picture in the listener’s mind. She’s healed, revealing herself to be such a beautiful woman, and I thank God all throughout each day for giving her back to me.

Together, we’ve built the life that we always talked about, all of those afternoons in the bed of my truck when we snuck out of the house. In between kisses we’d dream of what we’d become as adults. Would my hair turn grey at the temples like Carlisle’s, would she ever finish so many years of college to follow her passion? What would it feel like to smile toothlessly at each other in our old age, what would it be like to have grandchildren? All of those things, and more, we now have the chance to discover.

It didn’t take my girl forever to finish college, but it might have felt like it. Bella was able to garner an apprenticeship at the pharmacy downtown and work as a technician while she completed her final years of school. Now that she’s passed the pharmacist exam, she’s waiting until the pharmacist retires next year and then she gets her promotion. Her job is close to the bank, so we have lunch together almost every day. I originally chose an entry-level position because I didn't expect nepotism, but now I’m the manager and sometimes put in longer hours.

Mallie has excelled in school; Emmett swears she didn’t get her brains from him, but she’s an honor roll student nonetheless. The two of them have a Sunday tradition of spending the day together, and I’m pretty sure she already understands why it’s so important to him. Our son Mack recently turned three, and he’s all rough and tumble, constantly knocking things over and falling down. He loves to climb trees and everything else, really, although I think I’ve finally convinced him to stop climbing the bookshelf. I’ve been working on a treehouse for him on the weekends; it’s hard to do with a preschooler as an assistant. Mallie is much better with the hammer than Mack is. We’ve been lucky to have our family and the Clearwaters take an interest in helping us watch the kids while we work and Bella has been in school.

“Alright, guys, dinner time!” Bella calls from the kitchen, interrupting my thoughts. “Mallie, if you haven’t memorized that practice test by now, you never will. Put it away for the evening, sweetie.”

I hear Mallie mutter under her breath, but she must be complying, because I’m Bella’s next target.

“Edward! Turn off Thomas the Train, for crying out loud, and you and Mack come eat.”

Grinning, I reach cautiously for the remote, trying not to disturb the little boy in my lap. He’s rarely still or quiet, so I treasure the moments when he falls asleep on my lap. Bella means business, of course, that woman is all mom, so I heft him into my arms and stroll into the kitchen before she has to yell for me again.

“It smells fantastic,” I tell her as I lean over for a kiss over our son’s head.

“Thank you,” she replies, smiling indulgently at Mack. “He’ll never go to bed on time,” she adds ruefully.

I know this, and I know I’m supposed to keep him awake like a SEAL Team trainee, but I just can’t resist the soft qualities he takes on when he’s sleeping. Like he’s my baby boy again.

“I know, love. I’ll deal with him.” I will, of course. I won’t put it off on her. “Mallie, are you going to put that away and come to the table, or stare longingly at your textbook? Come on, don’t make me do something drastic like ground you for studying too much.”

Shiny curls bounce on her head as she shakes it, no doubt rolling her eyes where I can’t see. She comes to the table as I wake her brother and force him to wash his hands before plopping him next to me in his booster seat. He never does anything quickly or quietly, so we’re the last to be seated amidst his squawking.

Looking over our dinner table, I watch the family we created; my lovely wife serving dinner, our preteen daughter that is full of adolescent attitude but would rather study than do much else, and my precocious son that looks just like me with his auburn hair and green eyes. I see the love we share in the way Bella serves everyone before herself, in the way Mallie jumps up to get what Bella forgot, and the way I take on helping Mack so Bella can just eat and not worry about him. It’s noisy, and a little chaotic, and as I catch her eye, I mouth I love you to Bella.

She mouths back I’m pregnant.

Perdition Chapter 22

BPOV

“Edward!” I call his name to get his attention, but he ignores me. “Put that down, I’ve got it!” I rush to his side, grabbing the last box from the truck and bumping him with my hip.

His smirk is quick, his responding kiss a little slower. “I’m not helpless,” he reminds me as he releases my mouth.

As if I need him to remind me of that. Physical therapy has done its job and then some, and I take in the straining muscles beneath his clingy t-shirt as he tries to snag the box from me. He’s back to full-strength, no doubt about that.

“I want to. It’s my box, anyway. My crap in it, I’ll haul it.”

“Hiding something interesting in there, are we?” He tries to pry the flap open as I run from him, attempting to not drop the whole box as I streak into the living room.

Edward’s personality is back as well, the laughing, happy man that I always loved. It’s impossible not to fall for that crooked smile. I drop the box a little clumsily as he catches me around the waist and spins me, landing the both of us onto the couch we just bought three days ago.

“That’s the last of it, woman. Relax.” He grins again, nipping at my throat before looking back at me, huge smile in place.

“Thank Christ. My arms are sore.”

“Poor baby,” he murmurs, though not in a derisive manner. No, not my Edward. He rubs my triceps, stroking and igniting without any effort.

“Shower. Dinner. Remember?” We have plans tonight. Though my brain is currently focused on the way Edward’s body feels on top of mine.

“Screw them all,” he growls, pushing me flat to the sofa cushions and hovering over me. “Shower. Sex. Maybe I’ll feed you if you’re lucky.”

“God, you drive a hard bargain.”

His laugh is giddy and evil. “That’s not all that’s hard.”

Fucks sake, there's no way I can deny him any longer. We’ve had to abstain for months while his skin grafts healed and he endured physical therapy. His skin wouldn’t flex in the direction he was intending it to move for the longest time.

But now? I moan as he moves lower, dragging his mouth down to my belly. “Maybe I even like you dirty,” he teases.

“Ew, no. Please let me shower off the dust and sweat.”

Edward pops up, seemingly unaffected by our foreplay, unlike my racing pulse. “Deal.” He offers his hand and hauls me up when I take it, pulling me to the stairs and practically dragging me up them.

Naked, with steaming hot water sluicing off his broad shoulders, Edward does his damn best to make me die of pleasure before we ever finish washing. His hand cups me, fingers slipping inside like the memory is mapped in his brain. How and where and what pressure to use to send me flying, gasping against him as I bite his wet shoulder. Struggling to stay upright, I gladly allow him to sweep his arm behind my knees to carry me to the bed that I just made up with new linens hours ago.

Laying me on it, spreading me out like a buffet, using those hands again to stroke and tease and tickle, Edward and I reconnect in ways we haven’t been able to for years. And I find myself crying with the surrealness of the moment.

He pulls away from me and wipes at my tears with the pads of his thumbs. “What’s all this, baby?” he asks gently.

“I just can't believe we’re here. It’s been what, five years? I never thought we’d find our way back, or that it would be like nothing had ever changed between us.”

“It changed, but it changes constantly. Loving you was never hard. Living without you was hard, but loving you again? That's the easiest thing I’ll ever do. I’ll love you every day of the rest of my life.”

“In the kingdom where nobody dies,” I murmur. When he frowns adorably, I smooth my hand over the spot and smile. “That’s what I picture, is that we can live forever in our hearts and the hearts of those that love us.”

When Edward leans down again, I push aside thoughts of life and death and just focus on loving him physically.

I return his kisses tenfold, moving my tongue against his and sharing his breath. My mouth knows his taste, but my fingertips have to relearn his planes and the smoothness of his taut skin. I need to feel the difference in his steel length, enough to have him begging me to let him fill me completely. And god, does he ever fill me, so full that I can’t remember ever feeling so complete before now.

“Fuck!” I cry as Edward moves inside me, pulling back and slamming forward, reminding my body what overwhelming pleasure feels like.

“Bella,” he moans my name like a prayer, and his movements are quick and almost frantic.

Primal need builds in me, the need to find that elusive place where the stars explode behind my eyelids. The push and pull of our bodies is extremely satisfying, like nothing and everything we’ve ever experienced together before. I find myself wild for him, wild for the lust of his hungry mouth, to feel the strength of his body pinning me to the bed, to the very earth. Climax after climax slam into me like battling tidal waves until I’m gasping for air.

When he moans and curses, stilling with his firm body pressed into mine, I swear my vision washes red. My desire is only temporarily sated, but for now I can’t think when it might kickstart again.

“God, I’ve missed that,” he murmurs in a throaty voice that does things to my insides that should be illegal in my current state.

When he rolls off me and flops like a landed trout onto the bed next to me, I find enough energy to laugh. “I’m thrilled you and I never found other distractions in the time we were apart.”

“That’s an awfully polite way of saying you’re happy I never fucked anybody but you in my lifetime.” He chuckles half heartedly into the rumpled bedspread.

I shove at his shoulder until he opens one eye and stares at me unblinkingly.

“Okay, yes,” I admit. “I never fucked anybody besides you, and I’m happy about it now that we’re finding ourselves full circle.”

“I love how you speak,” he says offhandedly.

“Okay,” I laugh.

“I love fucking you. It’s been five years too long, and I was feeling blue and desperate.”

I laugh more loudly, covering my face with my hand. I look at him over the tops of my fingers, just look, as the afternoon sun slants in through the window across the room. It simultaneously illuminates and creates shadows over his back and that finely sculpted ass. It makes me happy to see that his scarring is almost invisible now.

“Well, as much as I’d love round two, our friends and family and our daughter are waiting for us.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles but gets up anyway. I merely sit on the bed for a few seconds and admire the sight of my husband walking unaided into the bathroom of our new house. From heaven to hell and back again, we have everything we’ve ever wanted.