Blatant

Advance weaponry of ancient forest greens regards me with an unobstructed view making my already warm skin flush with heat.

"You heal very fast." Odin's low toned words of observation flow out while he opens a drawer of the dresser taking out some clothes. The hem of the nightgown falling over my waist coming to rest just below my knees. The material is white cotton softness, a stark comparison to Odin's eyes right now that hold a hue of the green on the verge of turning, twisting into the black.

The trail of his vision, hitting just below my knees, hitting the back of my calves, caressing the ankle until holding on my bare feet. "There's a pair of slippers on your half of the closet if you find the floors to cold for your feet."

"Thank you. My feet are a little cold." Odin walking by has his arm brushing against the fabric of the nightgown across my chest, a faint breath of air escaping out from my mouth with that barely there contact that seems as if it was by accident.

Odin's small exhale of breath lets out slowly, cautiously from his lungs. He doesn't turn around, and for that I'm grateful. Opening what must be my half of the closet, he reaches down and picks up a pair of moccasins; I've seen them in my pack before, most of the time it's the smaller pups wearing them until they become juveniles and stop wearing them all together.

It's deerskin suede on the outside and fur lining the inside. On the top decorated in brilliant shades of blue smooth glass beads. Slipping them on, they fit perfectly, hugging my feet.

"They're beautiful, thank you, Odin." Now it's Odin that looks down momentarily, before those eyes once again assail my flesh, palming vision against my ankle, smoothing up my calve, stopping just below my knee until the material of my dress prohibits the feel of eyes on skin.

"You're welcome." His words hold a faint tinting blush to them while a heat creeps along cheekbones. The fibers in his face stretching lightly to pull the edges of his lips upwards into an Odin smile.

"I'm going to clean up; I put a pot of chili on, my sister had it already made for us. It just needs to warm up. We can eat together when I'm finished with cleaning myself. Feel free to explore around; this is your home just as much as it is mine." He turns to go into the bathroom that still holds the steam of the shower I just came out.

Before stepping inside the room, with his back to me, he holds himself gripping the wooden door frame. "I'm thankful you're here, Charlie." Not another word spoken before the door closes behind him, the sound of water turning on has me exhale a lungful of air.

Looking now into the closet that he left open is an assortment of my clothes. Sweaters, shirts, pants, all hung up neatly on my half. Looking at Odin's half, he has his clothing hanging up. He doesn't possess as much as me, just a few simple pairs of pants, shirts and one pair of dress up slacks. He does have one button down long sleeve shirt; a tie hangs up with it. It looks iron ready no creases in it at all. Looking down he has a few shoes but again nothing like my half displays.

Closing the closet door back up, looking into all the dresser draws all my stuff is in there. How did I not know they were missing? Going to bed, it would fit two bodies comfortably, laying side by side. Looking into the bedside drawer, it's empty nothing inside it. Going to the other side of the bed is several journals. Pencils of different colors in various stages of use line the bottom of the drawer and over the top the used journals. Picking the very top one up, turning the pages is me staring back. Page after page of various poses some of the pictures not finished, some just an outline sketch as if he might come back and complete the image he was drawing some day. Just a scribble on the page of a hand, or the way my calf curves up from my ankle.

Picking up the next journal is sketches of my wolf, her playing and rolling around on the ground. Of the den, she first came into the world in. A wobbly first step is recorded on paper, that I forgot about.

Shutting the journals placing them back where I found them, it feels intrusive if I was to explore more into them without his permission.

Walking out of the bedroom, the table is set for two, fresh bread put out, two bowls with a spoon, facing each other. Two glasses filled with ice water, not knowing if I should sit down yet, I decide to explore the kitchen. Looking into all the drawers, everything in order, everything that you could need is here. Opening the fridge door, it has all the condiments one needs, but it doesn't hold the excess of left overs that my fridge back home did. It looks as if meals aren't made that often here.

The freezer holds all kinds of labeled packages of meat. Frozen vegetables and fruit in clear bags sit one on top of the other. Very organized and well thought out, Judy would be happy with the way this has been set up. Walking around, exploring more of the pictures that grace the walls. A portrait of a thistle plant that has its antidote plant wrapped around it is drawn in an abstract design. You would have to understand the plant's nature and what they are used for to appreciate the drawing.

When the door opens to the bathroom, a tickle of anticipation downward from the base of my neck prickling along the structure of bone to rest incredibly deep inside my lower abdomen.

Odin comes to stand directly behind me, his contours pressing against the thin fabric of the nightgown. A cheek brushes against mine, his hand, open palmed shifts itself across my lower back from the closest hip to the opposite side. Comfortable with the destination he's reached, fingers press into my flesh before the grip relaxes to a secure hold.

"That was the first time you fed me with your hands, Charlie. Do you remember?" That cheek of his still pressed against mine, I can feel his jaw flexing with each low toned word. The tip of his nose starts to run from the back of my ear to my collarbone. Closing my eyes with how his voice is making my body hum deeper inside my belly.

"Do you remember?" The octave of sound that he uses is edged in a darker tone that compels my neck to angle to the side for him, for his tongue that is now tracing the vein that runs the length of my neck before he places his cheek against mine again. Both of us staring at the picture, now. Our breathing is syncing with a slightly faster rate, my heart fluttering, trying to find its normal rhythm once again.

With a quick turn of his wrist, I'm shifted into a half turn until I'm staring into the forest of him. Those eyes hold the color that I'm drawn to; they can hold all of my attention still. A reaction of surging, quivering impulses speeds the length of nerves to end in the bundle with a vibrating force that has my lower extremities on the verge of collapse. The effect he has is so blatantly embarrassing that I have to look down momentarily to try and regroup from within.

Compounding silence as if the sound itself is waiting for something to happen, a tick of a minute going by before my mouth opens up.

"I remember, and I'm sorry for doing that to you." Looking up my sight focused on his.

Odin steps into the little gap that there is between us, creating an intense pressure now within me. "You were forgiven as soon as I understood what you did, the healer told me what you must have used on me. It was the first and only time my father came looking for me." A fingertip tracing the outline of my lips to my eyelids that close so I can feel those fingers lightly brush across the thin skin of them.

Exportation of touch through the tips of his fingers before a sound shakes my structure. His wolves feral vocals are sounding out freely. When I first met Odin, I didn't understand what the wolf was speaking, it was a language that was foreign to me, but now I've come to understand it because the wolf within myself is now sharing her unique vocals with him as well. It's nothing that can be taught to the wolf like learning to flash fang or growl with a thick base of aggression when fighting for your share of a meal. This language is different; it needs to be experienced to understand the instinctual meaning the inflections of notes hold.

Snapping my eyes open when realizing the intoned moan comes drawled out from the broad base of his throat. Just as suddenly as those finger tips move down past the ridge bone of my neckline does Odin reluctantly pull away. I understand it in his eyes, the hesitation that they hold. A huff of breath out, he steps out of my space and solely into his radius. When I take a step into that circle, he grabs onto my hand and walks us to the table.

Pulling my chair out, sitting down on it, he tucks it in for me before getting the cast iron pot off the wood stove. He places it on a cloth before he takes a moment to reload the stove with more wood, tendrils of pine and cedar smoke make its way out before the door is shut and the crackling of new wood beginning to catch fire serenades out as our dinner music.

Odin ladles the hot contents of chili into my bowl makes me realize how starved I am. Waiting for his bowl to fill, together picking up our spoon we eat together.

"Your dad found you?"

"He did, along with my Uncle. They had to carry me home. No one knew what happened to me; the healer asked if I ate a wild mushroom? I told her no. The only thing different that I ate were those chocolate chip cookies you gave me." He puts a spoonful of chili in his mouth while I get to watch the way the muscles in his throat swallow it down. Eye sight shift to the flash of red that stands out against the rest of his tattoos that line his neck, I think I'm the same shade with how naughty I was back then, I've gotten more refined with my distribution of Retribution. For what he experienced there is no hard edge to his voice.

"Again, I'm sorry for that." Lips tight into a straight line with my sorry. He continues to eat, not saying any more about that, my sorry hopefully is enough.

"Odin," His head lifts from his meal; those greens startle me with how they can change colors so fast

"Yes."

"I like your house. You did a good job building it. Everything is perfect." Trying to make a conversation happen because I'm afraid if it gets too quiet he will be able to hear my nervous heart thumping against a rib cage that's squeezing itself tight with anticipation of being alone with Odin for two days without any buffers between us.

"Our home, Charlie. This is our home." His point is directing to my heart, trying to have me understand that this is where I live now.

"I wanted you to have a home where it makes feel comfortable inside." He just finished his food, while I put the last spoonful in my mouth. Getting up he clears the dishes from the table. Taking a long drink of my water because my throat feels hot from the spices that were in the food.

Odin sits once again on the opposite of me at this table I'm sure his hands built.

"After our two days are up, there will be a celebration in your honor. All the mates that come into the Far North Pack are greeted this way; you are no different. You get a celebration. My mother has asked that you make a dish for it, enough to feed a few hundred."

"I've never made that much food before." Stating it out quickly with nerves showing.

"I'm sure it will be fine what ever you choose to bring." Another minute or maybe two of a stretched out silence moment.

"Charlie, I'm going to bring over my sister for you to meet after our time is up. She's different than us. She's blind, and she is an Albino. A characteristic trait that my genes hold. I want you to understand that we can have a pup like her and nothing is wrong with that!" His words coming out fierce, fearless almost directed upwards to the Moon herself.

"I'm looking forward to meeting your sister." Trying to calm his rising fur down. He looks at me in contemplation before speaking.

"She always treasured your gifts when my Mother would bring them home. Do you know that she never received any gifts from anyone else but you? She says family doesn't count. I've told her all about you, and she might be a little touchy at first, it's her way. She needs to touch you to see you. Please bear with her; she's a gentle soul." Odin's eyes shine out as if he might get emotional talking about his sister before he blinks those thoughts away. Lifting my hand to his cheek, he's quicker than my reflexes, grabbing onto my wrist. A surprised look comes over my face, looking at his fingers that hold my extremity tight. He leans his head to my wrist, kissing the pulse of it.

"How can you move so fast?" His hand lets mine go, so I can put it to my side and not on the table where he can get it again. Now that Odin smile comes across his face, but there is a slyness embedded into it, a flash of black consuming his irises before they dilate back to green.

"I'm going to teach you to be faster than me. When you're ready for that when I'm ready for that." He has a clench to his jaw now, a substantial tension settling into his fibers that were loose just a minute ago.

"Are you alright?" Saying it quickly, my hand going over his hand that's balled up into a fist on the table. My thumb is running over his knuckles until that hand stretches out, open faced, extending fingers apart so mine can trace the tattoos that go all the way to fingertips. His eyes are half closing, the motion of him halting, while my fingers explore more skin, becoming bolder as they touch his wrist, a vine twisting around them like shackles of silver but they are green with Nature's life.

"I like your tattoos." Saying it because Odin isn't saying a word at the moment.

Standing, getting closer to him, his breathing increasing along with mine. I don't take that singular finger away from his flesh; it continues to trace an owl that's perched on a branch, looking so real I feel as if the eyes are alive regarding the inside of me.

Thick male veins are camouflaged underneath the coloring of skin, but I can feel those vessels that are dilated thick with blood just underneath the surface. Getting closer to Odin, my cotton nightgown brushing up against his bare back, leaning myself over, so I don't lose the contact of the inked up arm. Tracing higher up, a bicep's round curve comes under the scrutiny of my tactile assessment. A gasp of breath from Odin has his head hanging down; with his eyes held shut. He places both forearms on the sturdy table, the physique of his back spreading out, showcasing every delicate, intricate design he holds on flesh.

The dip of his shoulder holds my attention momentarily before the big bear paw starts me with how massive the beast must have been. Placing my finger against a claw, the claw bigger by a few inches.

"How big was the bear?"

"It was the biggest one our pack has ever seen." Odin's voice but a whisper, his muscles bunching up, shifting restlessly underneath my open palm. Tracing along the length of his spine, feeling the bones underneath. My nose is going to the back of his neck where hairline meets flesh.

Inhaling

Odin exhales harshly as if he's in the greatest of discomforts.

"Did you kill the bear yourself." For some reason, I know the answer.

"I did." The voice is hardly sounding like Odin.

"How?" Breathing the word into his ear, in the softest of volumes I possess.

"I wore it down." His volume continues to drop lower and lower, to a husky vibration of sound.

When my hand drops low on his hip, he grabs it, twisting my body, so I'm now sitting on his lap. His hand on my bare thigh, "I didn't realize how hard this is going to be." A hard confession from him before he bites into my neck, not breaking the skin but indenting the layers to the point of almost claiming me as his.