Disclaimer: I do not own Blood and Chocolate nor its characters. They belong to MGM, Sony Pictures, and whoever else. I suppose Annette Curtis Klause, technically, even if the similarities end with names of certain characters.
Note/Warning: I don't like this movie. I really don't. I love the book, I love the lessons and messages, I adore it. The movie completely misses/negates all of that. Had it tried to be its own thing, I could have appreciated it better. As it was, the thing I liked most about it was what I hated in the book - Astrid. Hence, this little ficlet.
There was a time when he would drop everything just to chase her through the woods. All she had to do was beckon him and run; he would always follow. There was a wolf under that skin, not a politician, not a bureaucrat – and she could always draw it out into the open.
Astrid missed those days. She missed the sweet air of the woods, the thrill of the chase, the rush of her capture; he was intense and wild, not so safely restrained. She could affect him then, and that knowledge had kept her tail high and proud.
Those days were long gone though. Gone forever, no matter how she tried to win back his affections – to just get them back for a short while.
Sometimes he would come to her. Middle of the night, while the young were out and chasing skirts like tails, when his newest wife was asleep and alone; he would come to her. He would stay until just before the dawn, and she could almost glimpse that wolf buried underneath his politics.
Those nights were fewer now; so far between. He came later, left sooner. As if afraid to let himself go even the slightest.
Astrid knew that one day those nights would end completely. She knew that the time when he would finally make himself move on from her was not far off. She could see it in his eyes, feel it in the way he stopped himself from holding too tightly, kissing too hungrily, burying too deeply.
She had given him a son. She had given him her soul. She had given him more than any of the others.
Yet she was not good enough. She would lose him soon, and she would lose him to her own flesh and blood. It hurt, and it sickened her, but she would defend him, ache for him, and never, ever betray him.
To him, she was an ex-wife that he sometimes missed. An ex-fling that part of him was still hung up on.
To her, he was her mate, and a she-wolf mated for life.