Taren
Taren’s stare didn’t waver, but there was a subtle shift, the calm before a storm. He took a slow breath, letting Titus’s words hang in the air like smoke before speaking with a quiet edge.
“You're right. Two years is a long time.” His tone was measured, polite on the surface but sharp underneath. “But you’re mistaken if you think speaking to her more often means you know her. Just because you’ve had more time with her doesn’t mean you’ve listened to a word she’s said. We could solve this easily, but I think we both know that would be a waste of our time. I bet you couldn't even tell me how she likes her tea.”
He let that sink in a beat before continuing.
“If all you see when you look at Brenna is a wife to drape on your arm like a medal, then you don’t know her at all. You’ve missed everything about her that matters.” He didn't raise his voice, didn’t take a threatening step forward, he didn’t need to. The controlled intensity in his eyes said enough.
“You can dress a cage in silk, Lord Lemaire. That doesn’t make the bird inside free.”
Then a smirk, cold and humorless. “But please, by all means, tell me again how well you understand your wife.” He gave Brenna a quick glance, not out of weakness but in a quiet apology for dragging her into the middle of it. Then, lower, to Titus:
“I came here to keep things civil. Don’t mistake that for weakness.” He didn’t bother hiding the disdain in his gaze. “You speak of scars and control, but what I remember most about that night with Lord Vellor is how quickly he shut his mouth when he realized the lengths I would go to protect Brenna. I regret nothing—except maybe not hitting him harder. And you’re wrong about one thing, Lord Lemaire. I do have a place to call home. It just doesn’t look like this.”
He looked to Brenna again, softer this time, before stepping back. “I’ll find Ronan. It seems this conversation has already run its course.”
Taren nodded to Lira to follow, but before he turned to leave, he offered the Lord one last bit of advice.
"It's lavender and chamomile by the way, with a touch of honey, but never sugar, and no milk. She likes to actually taste the tea, not drown it. If she’s stressed, then it's earl grey with lemon. I'd say it was a pleasure, But then, I don’t make a habit of pretending."
Taren didn't wait for Titus to say more before he turned to leave, making his way towards Ronan and the gaggle of women he was still regaling with his tales. Lira hesitated for a moment, looking at Titus with a discerning eye, giving Brenna one last knowing look before following after her friend.
Brenna
This was not like the kiss in the garden. This blazed hotter and deeper than she knew. He’d told her he loved her and that his wolf wouldn’t let him find another, but she hadn’t understood what that meant until now. The realization was heartbreaking. It wasn’t that she hadn’t believed him, but she just didn’t know the depth of it.
His fingers in her hair and his teeth against her lip made her want to burn it all down for him. For the first time, the thought of duty and commitment fell away and all that remained was him.
He pulled away from her lips and she squeezed her eyes tighter, keeping in all of the emotion that threatened to spill out—regret, guilt yes, but also longing and deep desire. Brenna had thought she was immune from feeling desire, or that something was wrong with her. But no, he drew out everything. He let her bloom like a flower after she held herself closed so tightly.
“I want to,” she whispered, finally opening her eyes to reveal the unshed tears, the feeling of a losing a life she never had and never would live.
She left the rest unsaid. She shouldn’t be doing this; he shouldn’t be touching her like this. But for once in her life she didn’t care. She was doing something just for herself and for him.
“Kiss me again,” she demanded, in a tone he’d probably never heard from her and words she never thought she’d say.
Taren
Taren heard her heart race, felt the way she leaned into him, and for a fleeting second he thought to apologize, to put space between them before this went too far. But then her demand came and heat spilled into him like a spark to dry tinder.
He didn’t hesitate. His mouth claimed hers, and this time the heat became fire. His hands gripped her small frame, pulling her into his lap as if she belonged nowhere else. One arm locked around her waist, the other sliding up the curve of her back, holding her close enough that he could feel every beat of her racing heart. His fingers traced her jaw before trailing down the side of her neck, his touch reverent but hungry.
“Gods, Brenna…” he breathed against her skin, his voice a low, almost pained growl. His mouth followed the path of his hand, kissing along her jaw, down to the crook of her neck where her scent drowned him. He lingered there, tasting her skin, before moving lower, soft kisses tracing her collarbone, drifting down until his lips brushed the hem of her dress.
The wolf in him wanted more, wanted to bare and taste every inch of her, but he forced himself back up, retracing his path until his mouth found hers again, claiming her lips with the same fierce hunger that had haunted him for years.
Brenna
Brenna wanted this. She wanted every square inch of him. Wanting was still a foreign concept to her, but it felt natural in that moment. Kissing him felt like a dream come true, literally. It felt just like it had in her sleep two years ago, and this was more than just the one he’d stolen from her in the garden days ago. I felt like she might combust with the heat of it.
He left her lips, but they remained parted. She held onto him while they left a trail of fire down her skin, her cheeks and chest flushed with desire. He said her name with more reverence than anyone else, and she found she preferred it out of his mouth.
“Taren…” she said, but didn’t say anything else, just that was hard to speak, as if she was trying to think while drowning. It felt like too much and not enough. She kissed him back, her teeth finding his lower lip this time, and she smoothed her fingers across his cheek before finally pulling back again to breathe.
“I want more. But I can’t,” she said softly, trying to bring them both the reality check that they needed—This couldn’t happen anywhere but under the willow, in the world of their own making.
Taren
Hearing his name on her lips—breathless, warm, tangled with desire—was better than any dream he’d clung to in the dark. Her mouth on his was everything he’d imagined and more, and still, no matter how tightly he held her, it would never be enough. He groaned when her teeth caught his lip, nearly chasing her as she pulled away, but the need for air won out.
A slow sigh left him as she spoke, but he leaned in again, stealing three more kisses... soft, deliberate, each one slower than the last, reality creeping back in and tempering the fire that burned in his chest. His lips brushed her skin as he murmured, “I’ll give you anything you ask for, Bren. I’ll sit under this tree until the roots grow over me if that’s what you want. I’ll show you in soft kisses, in quiet company… in whatever you’ll let me have.”
His mouth trailed over her throat, down her collarbone, lingering like he was memorizing her. “I’ll keep my silence while he loves you the way he wants,” he said, voice low, dangerous in its restraint, “but I’ll always be here, to love you the way you need.”
This is a roleplay based on the plot
The Wolf in the Walls with my character
Taren Vyrnos. This was written in Aug of '25. My parts are Taren, and Brenna was written by my writing partner.
