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Love Her

Summary:
SEQUEL TO PROTECT HER. Quil is Claire's, heart and soul. At last, she is old enough for him to pursue hers... but can she overcome the terror and demons of her past to find true love?


Notes:
I disclaim. This story is stolen from Ms. Meyer's beautiful universe. it is all hers, so please don't sue me. right. enjoy. oh, i reccomend you read Protect Her first. And review it. after every chapter. well, once at least. but seriously, read it or this will make no sense. and thanks to all the people who read, reviewed, and encouraged me on Protect Her. I couldn't have written it without the continuous support i found, and i hope this story will get a similar response.


2. Chapter 2

Rating 5/5   Word Count 760   Review this Chapter

The moon was like an imperfect pearl. It shone brightly, its luminescence untouched by the slight mars on its glossy surface.

The cycles of it might not control my transformations, but nonetheless I was drawn to the moon. However, its glory could not hold my eyes compared to the perfection of the girl beside me.

Claire’s hair shone ever so slightly in the moonlight. It was captivating. I could have forever watched the moonbeams dance on the black strands with every twist of her hair—oh, Claire.

I loved her so much. I wondered if she knew. My beautiful, beautiful Claire.

She liked looking at the moon, the navy blue fabric of the sky shown not black as her hair in the areas where the glow touched it. She liked looking at the moon, and I liked looking at her.

A chill breeze stirred the air, and Claire sighed and snuggled into my warm arms… I realized we must look like a couple, her back against my chest, my arms around her.

I wished we were. But I knew I couldn’t ask that of her. I could, however, enjoy her touch, her tiny delicate body so close to mine.

Her voice pierced the still silence. “Quil?”

“What is it?” I recognized the tone of her anxiety, her don’t-hurt-me voice. It was the tiny sound that had been her only one when I first took her from her father. It still resurfaced sometimes.

“I… I think I’m ready to tell you… if you want to hear it.”

I did, and yet I did not. I didn’t want, selfishly, the pain I knew would come from hearing this. I didn’t want her to have to live with the suffering it would take to finally, finally, get it out. I would hear it, however. She wanted to tell me… or at least it would be good for her. And I didn’t want to let her down by not listening.

“Of course. I want to hear it. Do you want to go inside?”

“No… it’s really comfortable out here. Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” It’s not my traumatizing past, after all. I didn’t get a say in this. And I’m just as comfortable with her in my arms as she seems to be in mine.

“I don’t know how to start.”

“What’s the first thing you remember?”

“I remember… being little. And you saying good-bye… and that you loved me.”

The first thing she remembered was… me? Me? Oh my God. There were no words for how that made me feel.

“And after that… probably I was about five, maybe four. I was doing my homework and he came in the room and just… hit me. For no reason at all. Scared me. I started crying and… he hit me again, harder. And again and eventually I got the hint and shut up. He’d do it every day, after that.”

I bit back the fury. I could not rip him into pieces. I had already done that. I could only hurt her, and I would not allow that. I would stay in human form and hold her here and keep her safe.

“Sometimes it was worse than that… he’d tell me to do something and I’d do it wrong and he’d shout and throw something at me… or throw me at something. That’s how the ribs broke. That was the stairs. A flight and a half… it was a big house, all lined up. He didn’t like the way I’d folded his socks.”

I felt cold rage burn through my fiery arms. My fists tightened. “Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry.”

She continued without seeming even to hear. “Do I have to talk about… about the other things?”

“No. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. This is just about you, honey, about helping you and helping me know what you need. That you can talk about when you’re ready, or never. It’s up to you, Claire.”

Her smile was weak. “Thanks, Quil. Thank you for everything.”

“No, Claire, thank you. For being everything.”

She pulled my arms tighter around her and we stared silent into the moon in peace.

It was a while before the sobs began.

They were not tears of pain, but of relief, and the cleansing water fell like diamonds against the pearly light.