My Rehvenge

Once in awhile we encounter characters who speak to some part of our souls. It doesn't always make sense, and sometimes there is no conscious recognition. For me, while reading the exceptional Black Dagger Brotherhood books by J.R. Ward, I encountered one of those unforgettable and remarkable fictions who came to life and breathed inside my imagination and heart, too. I thought about what it would be like to stand a few feet away and look for the first time on him, to...


Behold, My Rehvenge
© Denysé Bridger
10th April, 2011

She watched him, eyes caressing with a combination of hunger and adoration, her heartbeat tapping like the staccato rhythm of stiletto heels on a sidewalk. She suspected he could hear the erratic pulse of her life, but he didn’t move, not even to glance in her direction. She leaned on the doorframe, permitted her dreams to venture forth and speak within her mind. He was a remarkable male, handsome like so many of his kind, but also different from them. In this one power and passion seethed just below the surface, contained by the force of his will, and a need to remain apart. All of the knowledge she should not have began to coalesce and make itself known inside her, and with each new piece of the puzzle her heart became his possession.

Despite the warning that told her this was not a male to be casually examined, she continued to process the influx of responses that were lighting a trail of fire along the course of her veins. That she wanted him was of little consequence, that was a given, or she wouldn’t have been there at all. The complexity of his presence was a drug, an addiction pleading to be fed. He could have owned her soul without expending more effort than it took to gaze at her, but he chose to stand back and allow her the freedom to choose her dreams, and control the destiny she would live because of it.

The air around them was a living thing, warm, sinuous, caressing heightened senses with promises and threats that were equally alluring. With him, a thing as simple as a kiss would be layered in mysteries that required answers drawn from the soul. And he would know how to extract what he wanted, from her mind, her body, and the heart that now beat in steady reply to his.

He finally turned to look at her, and she shuddered at the impact of his eyes. Amethyst gemstones, but beyond the brilliance of his intellect there was fire and fury. A flame that burned inside him, searing all it touched, purging the ugliness of lies, leaving only the naked truth to be gazed upon. In those brief, life-spanning moments, he saw all there was to know in her, and in the next heartbeats it was judged and understood.

He leaned back in his chair for a moment, his jewelled gaze speculative. After a minute he rose and walked toward her. Each step that brought him closer made her feel as though a blanket was being wrapped around her, enveloping her in warmth that was rapidly becoming heated desire. He stopped, just short of touching her, and the corners of his mouth curved upward, a whisper of smile reaching his eyes.

“Why are you here?”

His voice poured over her senses, the richly timbered bass textured with seduction and curiosity. She straightened and still had to look up at him, but words were lost in the tide of longing that was crashing over her in battering waves. She stared at him, entranced by everything about him. He touched her cheek, a breath of contact, and she felt the quiver of response tingle to the core of her being. Surprise flickered in his eyes, followed by satisfaction. She knew, in that single moment he had read it all... claimed what was already his, and made the choice to keep it.

He bent to touch her forehead to his, and smiled.

“Why are you here?”

She opened her mouth and he claimed her lips, the slow stroke of his tongue gaining entrance as she sighed into his touch. Inside her head, the world became a rush of sensual fireworks, her body as alive and captivated as her mind had been moments before. All that existed was the madness he lit inside her, the hunger to be consumed by him. And, in spite of the paradox, with the promise of his possession came the certainty that Fate had just righted a lifetime of wrongs.

When he drew back endless moments later, she smiled up at him, trembling against him.

“Behold, my Rehvenge...”

His smile dazzled her, and the warm ring of his laughter fell over her like summer rain, washing away the past terrors of her world, cleansing a life and a heart, making them worthy of him... worthy of love itself.

Disclaimer: The character of Rehvenge Rempoon is the sole property of J.R. Ward - the use of his name here is in no way intended to infringe upon copyrights held by Ms. Ward, nor does it pretend to have her endorsement. It is a fan fiction created with respect and admiration.

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