And suddenly, Berkley had all of her attention.
Which he was promptly about to lose.
“Don’t call the cops, for fuck’s sake,” she muttered, slamming her sketchbook shut. Last thing she needed was Berk seeing any of the art in there, and leaving it open was like an invitation. She would rather explain the brand on her shoulder before she explained all of the sketches of her riding Henrik in a tattoo chair.
She looked like shit, which was unsurprising, given how she had a brand on her shoulder that felt on fire and she had spent the past two weeks worrying about her soulmate, but she was also wearing his shirt tied around her waist and was his soulmate, so...
He would have to take her as she was. Unwashed hair, smudged eyeliner, and all.
A last second thought had her grabbing two sets of gloves on her way out of her small office from Teddy’s set up, a much larger size than her own, but she didn’t care for herself, and for the second... maybe Henrik would also be able to touch her. She needed to be able to check him over, to make sure he was alright. Fuck, she expected him to be half dead after being gone for so long—and he had better be. Staying away for more than two weeks? She was going to kill him herself if he had been avoiding her.
Coming around the corner, Violet froze for a moment as she looked out the now repaired front door to see her Henrik standing there. He was a few paces away from the door itself, looking at the ground rather than towards her, and he was pacing, two hands shoved into pockets. He was wearing sweatpants, which wasn’t something she was used to, but also no shirt and no shoes. There were scrapes and bruises and dirt on his arms and chest, but he wasn’t bleeding, and he was here and alive.
Fuck it, she would take it.
Violet managed to get one glove on before she reached the door and pushed it open. Henrik looked up at her as she came through, and their eyes connected as she rushed forward, her gloved hand going straight to his chest. She wanted to feel his heartbeat, to make sure he was alive. To make sure he was real and fine.
Her soulmate... her wolf...
“You’re alright,” she breathed out as her eyes searched for any sign of anger or sadness. Was he alright? Was he upset about what happened? Where the fuck had he been?
His eyes searched hers like he was searching for something, although what it was, she had no idea. She held her breath, waiting for his words, to hear what he had to say, only... his eyes left her gaze to move to her shoulder. She could see it on his face, the moment his eyes connected with the bandage, and he lifted his hand, his uncovered hand, to brush along the top of it.
He didn’t actually touch, but she could still feel the heat of it, the burn. He pulled his hand away after a moment, telling her without words that he could feel the heat as well. She had hoped, in some feeble part of her brain, that maybe whatever his teeth had done to her would be enough to break her curse, but...
“We have to—“ Henrik’s voice was gravely as he attempted to speak, telling her all too well that he had most certainly not been avoiding her. That was normal, after shifting for a long time, for a wolf to struggle to use their human voice. Sixteen days of being a wolf after a decade of being human? He must have only just shifted back into human form.
His cough had cut him off, giving Violet a place to speak. “Woah, it’s okay. Don’t try to say anything. Come inside and get some water.”
She was ready to end it there, to end any attempt to speak or resolve anything until he was inside, warmed up and clean, with a calmed throat and relaxing in her bed... and she was wearing all the clothing she could so he could touch her, but Henrik seemed to have other things in mind.
He took a glove from her dangling hand, plucked it right from her grasp without touching her bare skin, and shoved a hand into it, covering his fingertips. It was stretched out thin, but it was enough, at least, for contact, as he reached out and touched her cheek, cradling her as he brought her attention back to him.
“I love you,” he croaked. His words stole the breath in her lungs and all of the function in her brain. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, a lie, but she needed him inside. She needed to say it back. “Come inside. You need water, a shower, and clothes.”
He seemed unable to move as he stared down at her, but finally gave in, taking a step to follow her inside.
Yes, it meant walking past the other studios with the guys peeking up to look at them, but she ignored everyone else as she pulled him towards the back, towards the stairs to head up.
He didn’t fight her about the cup of tea, knowing that she knew enough about herbs to help him heal his throat, but when he tried to speak, she shushed him again. A shower first, and maybe rest.
Whatever it was they had to do... it could wait until after a shower.
And after she said those precious words back.
Violetwassittingonher bed when Henrik emerged from the shower. She was wearing his shirt, having untied it from her waist earlier, and had gloves on both hands. On her lower body, she had covered her shorts with a pair of sweatpants, and even tugged on a pair of socks. The only exposed skin on her body was her neck and face. Otherwise... she was free, almost to the very thing she wanted most.
“Feeling any better?” she asked, looking him over. He had tugged his own sweatpants back on, and the t-shirt he had asked her to grab from his truck. His arms were bare, but if she gave up the shirt she was wearing, he could cover them. On his hands were the gloves, stretched out, but she could get some extra large in her next stock order.
They could touch... sort of... hopefully.
“Yeah. A shower and a bit of witchy brew can work wonders.”
His throat sounded better, which was good. He almost looked whole, except, he was keeping too much distance between them for her taste.
“Do you remember when you used to climb into my room at night?” Violet asked, a smile curling over the corner of her lip as she reflected. “We would curl up under separate blankets to keep from touching too much, so every morning, we would wake up—“