Dalliance:- A short Affair.
Every time Marcel falls in love since the year 1665, has been a flicker in his existence. He has lost everything and can just about hold what he has left breathing in this world; everything else had been ripped from him. Jorik suggests something utterly ghastly; what can he do but be dragged along in this rediscovery of love. Yet everything comes down to a dalliance when you're immortal.


3. D O G R O S E

Cillian was confronted by a house of anger as he got the train back to Green Hurst. The world and house were almost on fire; part of him knew it was going to happen as he kicked his Nikes off by the door. He was tired though as he swept one hand through Blond hair and swung a sharp turn to the kitchen common area. Ignoring the sea of relatives stood and sat about and keeping his attention on the fridge where he grabbed a bottle of ale and closed it with a loud bang.

'Cilli' it was a small feminine voice, hesitant and sultry so much so that it almost instantly irritated him. He slammed the fridge door as he imagined the mousy hair that was curled and the bright red lips of Anita Rass.

He heard the jump at his violent action as he used the counter to open his bottle of beer.

'Cillian Sean Phelan' that was his father's voice it was tight and demanding causing his whole body to begin fighting against its more primal nature. He heard the slight whine before he saw himself turn by demand. Everything in him wanted to look down and bare his neck but it wasn't going to play out like that.

He steeled himself and looked up with two brilliant blues into the silver of his father, he had been born to his parents when they were seventeen and every day he had loved the Irishman in front of him, respected him beyond belief. This was the first time he had challenged him.

The room grew silent as neither male broke away, simply glaring with low growls leaving their mouths as they watched each other with such a harsh look in their eyes that even when the Alpha's walked in there was barely a budge to acknowledge them.

'Cillian... Sean' his Grandfather's tone was one of warning but Cillian knew he was old and when it came to even Cillian's wolf would be quick to overthrow so with this he stood his ground letting out a louder growl of warning.

His father had backed off looking away and Cillian snorted out a puff of air before turning and heading for the door.

'Did I say you could leave young man?' the Irish drawl was loud and long as he felt the Alpha's eyes on his back, he shook under the glance but he didn't turn back to look at him.

'Is this about me leaving the room or me leaving the house?' Cillian let out with a snarl as he took a swig from the beer bottle

'You know what this is about and we just want to know how we-'

'I knew it, I knew you would never want me to leave old man' Cillian whipped round to face him with harsh eyes 'How you could make me stay? Stop being so down my throat all the time. Stop being you'

'Cillian please.' this was his mother, her voice was breaking and it was breaking him as she turned soft cornflower coloured eyes on him 'Pup, just stay what would we do without you'

'Mum, I can't stay' his voice was soft when it came to her, a love that was unconditional no matter what 'I need to leave even if I have to be chased out'

He left then heart heavy and cheeks wet, his room was one that had to be taken apart piece by piece, photos were taken from his walls and lights taken from the hooks. He would have to buy more of those clear acrylic hooks to hang the lights up in his room in the city. He placed the photos in a shoe box and tried his best not to flip through the old memories of before.

Bedding was put in a cardboard box, which had been hidden under his bed, with the addition of delicate items that needed a little more padding and then his clothes and other items. Eventually, the room was bare and the bottle of beer gone. He stood back and admired his work; the only thing left was the furniture which didn't need to come as Marcel seemed to have every room furnished.

The plan at least for Cillian was to move tomorrow morning with dawn's first light as it was a long drive back to the city from where he would now be living.

Cillian flopped down onto the mattress digging his feet into the quilt. He would miss the room and everyone here there was no doubt in any of it, the pack life had been comfy if not smothering. He curled up then allowing the softness of the bed to lure him to sleep.

A soft knocking came from the door a few hours later.

'Cub' her voice was so soft and warm that Cillian couldn't complain at being woken 'I brought you some things'

'Thanks, Mum' he smiled sleepily as he took a tray of food and began to eat slowly 'I'm sorry you know to be leaving'

'I know cub' she smiled running a hand 'Your dad knows too, it just scares him'

'I can't stay here not with everything especially the memories you know?' he felt the tears pool 'I can't be respected when I know I'm the runt and Connor is so much stronger than I ever was'

Connor was born when his parents were sixteen, he was everything a wolf could be and something Cillian could never live up to what Connor had been. After them his parents had had no other children, there was a total of five miscarriages and a strong belief after Connor died that another loss would kill his mother.

'Oh Baby' she wailed wrapping strong arms around him 'Don't you ever believe that no matter our size we are all destined to do great things'

Cillian smiled and kissed her cheek, hugging her tight around the waist 'I'll try to get home every full moon but knowing me my crappy car will break down'

'I never got why you don't just buy a new one' this voice was of his father but his face wasn't warped in anger but in love and comfort. He sat on Cillian's other side and offered a large embrace of his family.

'I earned it myself' Cillian said into the emptiness of the room 'I did it and I saved and it wasn't through the family'

'I understand cub' his father said softly, at the age of thirty-six his parents seemed very old indeed. They were both grey but so were Cillian to be fair but his hair was light, unlike his parents.

A wolf lived to at most seventy and by wolf he meant the were-kind. His grandfather was nearing his end and would soon be overthrown or found dead and so too would his grandmother. It was the way things went when you mated for life, he kissed his parents on the cheek and snuggled down. They barely did this anymore; the ritual of sleeping among family was in hopes of strengthening pack bond and trust especially if a wolf brought back another from a different pack.

When he returned to sleep it was broken by terror. The face of a man that made his blood curdle and his heart stammer and the face of his brother and it were the sound of a pistol firing and the screams of terror about them.

He woke up with a bitter taste and an empty bed. The alarm clock said 4:00am.

The bed was a pool of sweat and his heart hadn't stopped, he tore off his clothes from the day revealing silver scars and began to get to work dressing in the Vans t-shirt and grey jeans he had left on his dresser. He was shaking he knew it and all of him just wanted to leave this awful place. So he began to pack the car.

'Cub' his father said as he held out a new coat 'Remember to visit now won't you'

'I will Pops, just because I'm the one leaving doesn't mean I won't bug you' he smiled slipping into the coat and accepting a hefty book.

'Make sure you read that' his dad gestured to the book 'The world hold all sorts of things and us wolfs are a thing to be feared by all of them'

'Here is some food love' some was putting it lightly as his mother handed him a tower of Tupperware and a kiss on the cheek 'We both love you lots'

'I know and I love you too' he looked if anyone else was going to come down, he saw movement in Anita's room but then the light went off 'See you around'

'See you around cub' they both called as he got into his packed car and pulled out onto the road.

They never said goodbye because something about it seemed too permanent compared to see you later. He wasn't going forever and he wasn't out of reach from them. It was a long drive to the city but the radio was on full blast and the blond didn't feel an ounce of sleep bearing down on his shoulders.

The house arose with its siblings on a row of white with black iron fences and a cobblestone road. He parked his car in front of the house as Marcel's took the driveway and looked up at the new abode. He took the food in first as he balanced the many tubs and opened the front door allowing the cool morning air into the house. He didn't bother closing it and made his way to the kitchen. The fridge was empty apart from a few bottles of wine.

He loaded it all and shut the door quietly as he made the trips up and down stairs to place the boxes in his chosen room. It was one that overlooked the street with a window seat and he had decided that it suited him quite nicely. Unpacking was the worst bit of the whole process but it didn't take too long before it started to look like his.

After three hours he set out to explore the ground floor and all its rooms properly and not the quick glances that Marcel had offered. He walked through doors Marcel had only pointed at; he found himself in a conservatory that had plants creeping about in the well-lit room and tropical birds. He wondered if Marcel really worked or just spent every day pretending to be a Victorian man. On the far left wall, an old map was spread out with pins and postcards stuck to it, the newest or at least what he thought was the newest was one that said Hello! From Iceland. The oldest was one from Chicago that looked as if it was written to someone else rather than to Marcel. He moved away and went through another door.

Here he found himself under the stairs so he went to find the portrait of the man he had been staring at when he first came. The house was covered in art and old photographs and it made Cillian feel as though he might not be the only one from an old family.

Everything here seemed ancient and breakable and so many rooms were filled. Almost as if Marcel had lost a larger home and yet kept everything within; the reason for this feeling he would only find out much later.

Cillian right now, however, had the whole day ahead of him. It was a work day so it started by piling on his uniform and heading to the kennels. He only had to walk just within the door for the barking to start. Each one a loud heavy sound that boomed on the morning air.

He walked into the back giving one lazy look at each of the canines before getting to work on the food for each of the hungry mouths. He kicked the bowls through the flap saving his dog for last. The Alsatian gave one lazy look at the werewolf and then lifted his head up as the bowl was kicked to his paws.

'Training mostly today, Gunner' Cillian said softly 'No big jobs at least not yet, something can always happen'

He turned and allowed the dog to eat as he entered the small office where he and the other handlers waited for something big to happen.  

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