adjective ~ not perfect; having faults

CALIDA

I can't believe Dumbledore dies.

Like, what the fuck?

How dare they kill Dumbledore!

Like, what next? Hagrid? Ronald?

May as well just keep piling them on.

I loaded the next movie with a vengeance, but then Charlie announced he had to answer the door. He was full of surprises today, and as he wheeled in a dinner service, I rose to my feet with surprise. I quickly paused the movie, walking over to him.

"What's this?"

"The tools I will use to harvest your organs." He shrugged.

I laughed softly and sat in the chair he pulled out. I relaxed quietly as he lit some more candles and placed them on the table, even going as far to produce a small vase of red roses. He was acting the part of a waiter, and I couldn't help laugh as he moved.

He served the main course; chicken breast, baby potatoes, a rich gravy and vegetables. A hearty portion of wine filled my glass, and soon my stomach, as we spoke about everything. From the weather, to how the infants would run around at Christmas time, conversation never fell short.

But then, he said something that made me feel like I needed to speak. I had to get something off my chest. I needed him to understand me. He deserved to know what plagued my mind after setting up a goddamn fort for me with my favourite candles and movies.

"Thank you for doing all of this. I've never had anything like this before." I admitted.

He cocked his head. "You don't have to thank me."

"I do." I shook my head. "You deserve to know how much this means to me."

He smiled, reaching across to squeeze my hand. "Anything for you."

Shit, fuck.

I have to tell him. I fear it may swallow me whole.

"When... When I was fifteen years old, my parents led me on a walk through the forest. There, they drugged me, unknowingly, and abandoned me beneath a large tree that was supposed to help me." I began. "When I woke, I did not know where I was. Maxwell was the first to greet me, claiming that I was his mate now, and I had to do what I said. I was fifteen years old, abandoned by my family, lost by my friends, let down by my alpha..."

"Maxwell was not a nice mate. He hurt me, touched me, used me... in every way I didn't want." I grimaced. "He was rough on the edges, worse when drunk, and controlled the women and the wolves with an iron fist. Nobody could touch me but him, and I became grateful for that. But I was so controlled and angry. One day, I stepped up to him, freshly eighteen. I had counted down the days to where I could be stronger. I thought that my anger may bring my wolf back, because I thought they drugged me like all the girls he captured... But it got me no-where. After that, I could barely leave his cabin. I spent years stuck in that tiny house, forced to make it a home. I was just glad I didn't carry any children."

"Calida..."

I shook my head, knowing he was going to shoot me down. "When Nova came, there was an uproar. For years I had watched them hunt women, watched them drunkenly abuse and rape them, watched them drag away the dead bodies of the young girls who didn't deserve it. I watched them torture them through the fogged window of my kitchen. These young girls lost their lights."

"It's not your fault."

"I know it's not." Frowning, I agreed. "I couldn't do anything to help them, I know that. But then Nova ran away, and they got scared. The witch did not help them. Everything went onto lockdown, and then the fight happened, and... I was unconscious. I went to run the moment he left the door unlocked. The first person I saw was Sean in the trees, and he was terrifying. But even he couldn't get to me on time, because somebody stabbed me with a needle, and they dragged me back inside. I woke to a nurse hovering over me. And now here I am, sitting across the table with my soul mate, realising I am not a wolf, but a human, and a sick one at that."

Charlie's soft gaze didn't waver, and he stared at me with such an intensity, I knew I had said too much. But then he took my hand again, dinner finished and forgotten, and stared at me with those gentle brown eyes.

"Thank you for opening up to me, Calida." He mumbled.

Another piece of my resolve crumbled at his words, my shoulders sagging with defeat.

I had come to his pack with sturdy walls that nobody could get past. Over the past few months, it held strong, but everyone was so damn nice and open that it deteriorated. But today, it was like an earthquake. Pieces were falling off in chunks and some light was finally reaching the other side.

After dinner, we did not speak of my past again. Sitting back down in the fort with some foolish little crafts and the next Harry Potter movie, I couldn't believe we were bloody painting. Like, how random?

Distracted by the movie, every time I glanced away to watch, I would notice Charlie already staring at me. It was weird, and I shot him a glare. But then he kept doing it, and doing it, and every time I looked up to watch Harry, Charlie was staring at me. His eyes held no malice, his body calm as he painted his... I wasn't sure what that was, an ocean? A monkey?

He was watching me out of curiosity, and what looked like admiration, and it made me squirm. When finished, he asked me to share. I told him about the cat, wolf, moon, and my favourite flowers, and he watched me, unblinking. I knew he was barely paying attention, but I carried on, eager to show him the harry potter symbol on the inside of the mug. You'd see it every time you finish your drink! Like a reward!

Then it was his turn, and when he told me his painting was a waterfall, I blushed in embarrassment. I needed to get better at art, because it definitely looked like a sloth or monkey at one point. Teasing him covered my tracks, and Charlie played into it easily. But then he tickled me, my weakness, and I squealed to get away from him.

"My coffee mug is of a meadow in the springtime. A gentle blue sky, soft fluffy white clouds and a lovely warm sun." He started. "Amongst the grass are daisies, dandelions, buttercups and a mix of pink and purple wildflowers. Then in the middle, there's a couple laid in the grass. They're holding hands as they cloud watch, breathing a sigh of contentment."

My shoulders relaxed, happy the tickling had stopped, but became heavy with emotion. The two people on his mug looked awfully familiar. Charlie was more artistic than he gave himself credit. His lines were perfect, colours bold and blended beautifully. The mix of wild flowers amongst the green grass and pale blue sky was perfect. There were a few trees surrounding the couple, too, rife with life.

It was amazing, and he needed to know that. "You are..."

When his eyes widened, I crumbled, losing my confidence. "You're a pretty good artist."

He smiled, but it didn't meet his eyes. "Thank you. Now, we swap."

Wait.

My eyes widened. "Wait, what?"

"Yep! Your mug is mine. Gimmie!" He grunted, reaching over to grab it.

"No! My mug!" I squealed.

"Nope! We swap, because we are cute, and now every time I have a drink, I get to remember you as you are right now." He laughed, taking it. "Every sip of coffee, I get to look at what you created and think of you. If anyone asks, I will proudly say that my mate made me it."

Now that was kind of cute...

Oh look, there goes another piece of my wall...

"Charlie..." I mumbled, embarrassed. "But... mine is hideous."

"It's perfect." He huffed. "Because it's yours and anything that is you, or yours, is perfect for me."

My eyes met his, my eyebrows furrowing at his words. Did he mean that? Did he honestly think I was perfect? I was far from it; I was imperfect, and yet...

Charlie was a strange male. I have never come across a man like Charlie. As a child, the wolves I grew up around were fine, but when I didn't shift, everybody became hostile. My alpha did not accept me, and encouraged my parents to 'sort me out'. Little did I realise that meant abandoning me. Next thing I knew, I was the housewife of a maniac, used for pleasure from day one.

But Charlie...

He was different. In a good way. He didn't want to touch me. Most men did. And he didn't want to force me to do things. Charlie didn't snap at me to shut up, or go clean. He left me to it. He asked me what I wanted, asked me if things were okay. Doors were opened for me, not on me. My emotions and actions were valid and accepted. He made me feel happy. He made my worries disappear. Even though I may never create a child, he accepted me.

As I stared into his brown eyes, I knew he would keep me safe. He would make me happy. He would worship me no matter how imperfect I was. And that's when I realised what he meant. My mug was not perfect, he and I knew it. Mine was childish, messy, and a little unhinged, but because I made it, he said it was perfect.

He said I was perfect, despite everything, without even saying a word.

Shaking my head, I reached for him and pressed my mouth into his. Warmth fluttered in my stomach, my heart racing with adrenaline. I caught him off guard, but after a few seconds' delay, his hand fell to my waist as the other clutched my cheek.

When he growled and moaned, I felt my entire body flood with energy. I clambered over the discarded mugs and photo frames, wrapping my legs around his hips and sitting flush on his lap. I have never been so close, so intimate with him before. Charlie let me touch him, let me take control as I sat on his lap. His gentle grumbles of pleasure were strangely hypnotic. My thighs clenched around him, a soft sound of delight whispering past my lips.

But then he stopped. He stopped touching me, stopped kissing me, and pulled away.

I felt defeat wash over me when he mumbled my name. Instant regret of being needy, for pushing it too far. How could I be so stupid? I shouldn't have climbed on his lap when he didn't even want to touch me. His hands never strayed, despite how much mine ran through his hair.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to rush it."

But then he surprised me again, grabbing my face and forcing me to look him in the eyes. Through squashed cheeks, Charlie panicked.

"No! No, baby, no!" He shook his head and my heart raced.

Baby?

Then he kissed me back, a firm, warm kiss of demand.

"Don't apologise." He muttered. "I loved it."

He did?

"Why weren't you touching me?" I whispered.

His shoulders sagged. "I don't know where to touch you, baby."

My eyes fluttered, almost rolling into my skull at the name again.

Shaking my head, I levelled my gaze with his. "You can touch me, Charlie."

When he didn't, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. "Please, touch me."

He swallowed. "Are you sure?"

"About you?" I frowned.

Was he so naïve?

Did I not give him the right signals?

"Touching you, yes."

Oh, Charlie.

I felt my gaze soften, the creases of worry and confusion vanishing at the gentle nature of this man. He was soft and gooey on the inside, and brave and humorous, and everything else in between.

"Charlie." I started, my voice lower than normal. "I am sure about everything about you."

An enormous chunk of wall clattered to the floor, a huge opening ready for somebody to step through and pull me into that light. My hand raised, waiting, expecting for somebody to pull me out.

"Wait..." He muttered.

No!

"Please, Charlie!" I begged, tightening my grip on his shoulders.

"Wait!" He demanded. "I have something to give you!"

Something else? What else could he give me?

"If it's a disease, you can keep it." I spurted.

He snorted a laugh, but soon pulled something out of his pocket. Holding it between our gazes, I felt my heart stutter. Was that a...

"It's not a wedding ring!" He hurried. "It's... Well, let me show you."

Eyes wide, I held my breath as he peeled back the lid. Inside lay a golden band, with small cutouts of love hearts across its entire width. They filled every other one with a clear, heart-shaped crystal. He pulled it out of the black velvet and discarded the box. I stared at it, still unbreathing.

"This is a promise ring, Calida." Charlie stated. "A promise to you I will always support you, and be by your side no matter what you choose. I will never, ever, force you to do something you wanted, or make you choose me over yourself. My promise to you, Calida, is to be the person you need, whether that's from a distance or from close by. I pledge my life to you."

A powerful fist knocked the remaining pieces of my wall down, and light covered me. It burned my eyes, making them teary as it blinded me. My chest hitched at the sudden freshness of air, whooshing through my lungs and filling my veins. My lips parted as Charlie appeared, reaching down to me and wrapping his hands around my waist.

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Question of the day;
What drew you into reading fantasy/werewolf novels??