Hello everyone! If you like this, please write a review, even if it's brief! I try to update on Wednesdays. Obviously, I don't take any credit for the setting of this story, since it is all from World of Warcraft. So let our adventure begin...
Chapter 1
When I first saw him there, sitting in a pool of his own blood, I was caught in that strange emotional state somewhere between pure panic and intense curiosity.
It was a beautiful night, the slight breeze blurring the full moon's bright reflection in the lake. If I peered up through the trees I could still see the swirl of smoke from a late dinner being cooked at Lion's Pride Inn, so I knew I hadn't wandered too far from Goldshire. Taking a walk through Elwynn forest wasn't exactly a dangerous endeavor; at least, that was what I thought until I nearly tripped over a blood elf.
I froze completely for a few seconds, my breath catching. Half of me expected him to leap up and tear out my throat. I was a scholar and a healer, not a warrior. I could no more defend myself from this elf than my books could defend themselves from Stormwind's notorious rats.
Seconds ticked by. He didn't move. As my heart beat began to slow and my mind stopped conjuring up horrifying death scenarios, I began noticing the signs of battle. As a night elf the darkness didn't hinder my vision, and now that the veil of fear had lifted I could see the gruesome sight far more clearly.
He was in a somewhat awkward sitting position, leaning against the tree behind him. His leather jerkin, which was likely of that intricate Sin'dorei design, was torn almost entirely to shreds. Dark blood covered the tattered fabric, and a giant gash had torn both the leather and his skin from collar bone to lower torso. If he was alive, it would have been unbelievably painful. Tens of smaller cuts marred every limb of his body. The wounds looked like they were delivered by a rogue, evident by the classic slice-and-dice style of this creature's slaying. I didn't see any weapons, or any signs of the ground being disturbed, so I surmised the fight had likely taken place elsewhere.
I kneeled down beside him, ignoring all my self-preservation instincts. The dappled moonlight that filtered in through the trees above me cast an eerie glow on his pale hair. That hair looked like it had once been braided, but had since come undone and now covered his face.
I wanted to see his face.
As I brushed his hair back, I noticed even more blood, though I couldn't see a wound. With my other hand I placed my fingers against his wrist, but I didn't feel a heartbeat. This blood loss probably killed him, I thought absently as his face was unveiled.
"I bet you were a pretty one," I murmured, admiring his sharp but bruised and dirty features. I dropped my pack beside me and took out my book and pen. Dipping the pen in the tiny bottle of ink I always kept with it, I began to write.
"White hair, long enough to reach mid-back." I spoke softly to myself as I wrote down the words. His hair color was like mine, and like me the white did not signify old age, as in humans. Depending on his birth, he could've been anywhere between twenty five years old or a few thousand. Most blood elves were under two or three centuries.
I tapped the pen against my paper as I let my eyes roam down his body. "I thought blood elves were supposed to be short," I frowned at the corpse, mentally laughing at my own morbidity. But it was for science! And curiosity. This was a rare opportunity.
"No matter. Tall, probably taller than me, at approximately six foot two or three. Attractive, lithe body, far less bulky than an average night elf male. Recently deceased. Cause of death is likely blood loss, from a wound on his torso and possibly the neck."
He opened his eyes.
With a screech I leapt backwards, dropping everything and slamming my back painfully into the tree behind me. Two glowing emerald eyes watched me with a look of predatory amusement before they glazed over with pain. He made a move to stand up, but got no more than an inch off the ground before he fell back again with what I expect were a series of muffled curses.
By all that is holy, he was alive! But he couldn't run after me. That was a relief. His heart beat must have been too faint for me to feel. He had nearly scared the blue out of my skin.
My eyes flew automatically to my journal, open face down in the dirt near him. I scrambled forward, grabbed my book and pen, then darted back out of his reach; not that he had reached for me, but I felt safer with some space between us.
I flipped back to the page I was on, scowling at the giant line I had drawn across it in my panic. I would just have to write over it and deal with the aesthetic blunder.
I looked back up to meet his gaze. He watched me with an intensity that was thoroughly unnerving, and I fought the urge to hide behind something like a coward. His facial features were even more intimidating when he was awake, and those eyes held a knowledge that lead me to believe he was a lot older than he looked. "Your eyes are the most fascinating shade of green," I thought out loud, knowing he would not speak Darnassian. Blood elves only spoke Thalassian and Orcish. I wrote this fact down, attempting to describe the lovely color. It really was beautiful, ethereal even. I had never actually seen a blood elf up close before.
"Thank you."
My jaw nearly hit the ground, and I just barely caught myself before I dropped my book yet again. "You speak Darnassian?" I gasped, my face probably turning a strange shade of purple with embarrassment. What had he heard me saying? I just complemented my enemy's eyes and he heard me. Fabulous.
"Clearly," was his monotone reply. I couldn't read his emotions at all, and I didn't really know what to do. Run around in crazed circles? Beat him over the head with my book? Scream?
"Are you going to try and kill me?" I asked bluntly, focusing intently on his face to judge his response to my question.
"I haven't decided yet," he grated as he shifted into what was probably a slightly more comfortable position. "I'm not in a particularly good mood at this time."
He couldn't just speak Darnassian, he was fluent! I didn't even hear an accent. "Your Darnassian is perfect, how do you know it?"
"Already down to the interrogation, eh? No introduction?" He drawled sardonically. His voice was raspy, and I wondered how long he had been out here for.
"Are you thirsty?" I asked him, my healing instincts kicking in. I noted the evasion of my previous question, but it had been expected. I bent down to my bag to put away my book, then pulled out my canteen. My eyes never left him as I performed the action, and I felt like a mouse being sized up by a panther as he watched me.
"Yes," he responded, and I could hear the faint bit of excitement at the prospect of water.
"Don't make any sudden moves," I warned, creeping closer. Why was I doing this? I could just leave right now, run back to Goldshire and tell the guards. Then they would just finish him off, hopefully with mercy.
When I got just close enough, I crouched down and leaned forward, angling my body as far away from him as I possibly could. I held my water canteen to his mouth, but he kept his lips sealed tight, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "If I wanted to kill you, I would be attempting to snap your neck, or perhaps start beating you with my book, not wrecking my own canteen with poison. Now drink."
That earned me a raised eyebrow. "Charming," he rasped before complying, drinking more vigorously than I expected. I'm fairly certain he would've downed the whole thing if I hadn't taken it away.
"Where are you injured?" I inquired, still keeping as much distance as I could. I didn't trust him enough to lean in and check him myself. From what I could see, the main damage was in the form of a big, bleeding gash across his chest. It looked incredibly painful.
I was met with silence.
"For goodness sakes! What do you think I'm going to do? Rub dirt in it?" Now I was just getting frustrated. Usually it was near impossible for people to get my temper to show, but this creature was managing it by just looking at me. An impressive feat. The worst I could do was make him die faster than he already was, so I couldn't figure out his problem. Perhaps pride and stubbornness.
He responded with a tight laugh, his expression guarded. "You must be young if you think trust can come easily between the two of us."
"And you must be daft if you think you have any options right now. Either I leave you to bleed to death, or you stop being so resistant to my help." Yes, I was young. What was his point? To be twenty one as a night elf was to be a newborn infant to a human. The older night elves had yet to adapt to their loss of immortality. As the majority of the population fell into this older category, it was perpetually frustrating.
"My neck," He spoke quietly, breaking my train of thought.
"What?"
"The injury that will likely be the death of me is on my neck, under my hair."
Now it was my turn to narrow my eyes in suspicion. To access that area I would have to be practically on top of him. He could grab me, and then I would be in some serious trouble. All though I had seen a lot of blood there earlier, so he was likely telling the truth.
"Trust goes two ways, little elf."
Okay, so I was young and small for my kind. What of it?
"And if I wanted to kill you, I could have earlier when you referred to me as pretty," he sneered the last word with disgust.
He had been awake, even then.
I felt the heat rise to my cheeks with embarrassment yet again. He would've heard my comments about his lithe body as well. By Elune, this was awkward. But he had a point. I was already crouched, so I went down fully on my hands and knees with less than a stride between us. "If you try to kill me, I swear I'll feed you piece by piece to these wolves." Bluff, bluff, bluff.
That got a hearty chuckle from him that ended with a grunt of pain. "You have a way with words, pet. Unfortunately for you, even in my condition, if I decided to kill you there would be nothing you could do."
"Arrogance is so unattractive in a man," I sighed dramatically, crawling a little bit closer. Testing the proverbial waters. "And if you call me pet again, I might go and do it anyways."
"It's unattractive only if it's unfounded. Pet."
I snorted at his obvious taunt. "Humility is underrated. And the wolves will be mighty happy tonight." I watched him watch me for a few moments, and felt bold enough to continue when he didn't sprout wings or horns or turn into some sort of fel creature. "If I touch your arm, are you going to bite my hand off?" I asked, only half joking.
"I'm a blood elf, not a worgen," he replied with exasperation.
"I've met some amicable worgen in my day, but never an amicable member of the Horde." With that I reached my hand out, my fingers gently brushing down the mostly intact leather shielding his left arm. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
"Satisfied?" He asked me dryly.
"Never," I gave him a wry smile. I was never satisfied with anything in my life. Life was generally so lackluster that this deviation from the norm was almost a welcome thing. Maybe that explained why I was acting so out of character.
"I've never healed a blood elf before, and I'm afraid if I use magic it will backfire," I murmured, half to myself and half to him as I pulled back his hair. I would bet his hair was lovely when it was well groomed, but now it was caked with dirt and blood. The color stained my hands.
My eyes widened when I finally found the deep wound on his neck. "How on Azeroth are you even alive?" I gaped, afraid to move. As if that would somehow make it worse.
"I think he just missed the main artery."
"Was it an assassination attempt? How unprofessional," I mused, biting my lip as I thought about how best to approach this.
"He assumed I would bleed out. An amateur, clearly."
He was certainly taking this all with good humor. But why would someone do this to him?
"Spy!" I suddenly proclaimed, pieces clicking. "Why else would you know Darnassian so fluently? I expect you know Common as well. My goodness, helping you is like treason on top of treason."
I pulled back, my pity for his suffering warring with my loyalty to the Alliance. "Am I right?" I questioned, dreading the response.
"Would you believe me if I said otherwise?" His expression gave nothing away.
"That would depend on your answer."
"Then no, I am not a spy. But the language does have its uses in my line of work."
"Which is…" I trailed off.
"Nothing you want to know about, pet."
I saw the small tick of an encroaching smile on his face. He was enjoying messing with my head. And messing with it he was. I frowned, but his smile was somewhat infectious.
"I'd slap you if I wasn't afraid it would open up your throat more than it already is," I half teased him, just to see how he would react. My lips quirked up without my permission.
"I'll put it on my tab."
He was amusing, I would give him that. But my smile faded when my eyes focused back on the wound. I stayed quiet for a few moments as I considered the complications of my next actions. "If I help you, you have to promise not to hurt me."
His eyebrows flew up at my words, "And why, pray tell, would you help me?"
"I don't like watching things suffer. There's a reason I'm a healer."
"If you don't want me to suffer, why not kill me and put me out of my misery?"
Was that longing in his voice? I grimaced at the thought. I didn't have it in me.
He paused thoughtfully before continuing. "You have a kind soul, which is a powerful weakness in this world. It will be used against you." He sounded as if he spoke from experience. "But I don't make promises I can't keep, pet. I can tell you that unless I am otherwise provoked, or feel threatened, I will not kill you on this day."
"I said hurt me, which includes killing and all other sorts of injury."
"I will not hurt you, then. If you are foolish enough to trust my word."
I hmphed before standing up. "There is a difference between genuine trust and a precarious truce. I'll be right back."
Considering Crystal Lake was within a fifteen or twenty second walking distance, I didn't have to go very far. Goldshire wasn't exactly the most environmentally friendly of towns, and I found a discarded bucket without having to look very hard. Filling the wooden pail with water, I hefted it up and walked back over to him, trying not to spill it all over myself.
I was in an all-white dress tonight, but clearly it wasn't going to stay that way. There was already dirt all over it from crawling on the ground, and a smear of red from where I had wiped my hands on it after touching the blood elf. Sitting down beside said blood elf, I tore a strip off the bottom of my dress. Which was a lot harder than it sounds.
"I want to use as little magic as possible with healing you," I told him matter-of-factly, dipping the cloth into the water. "Though you are an elf, you are physiologically quite different from a night elf, and I don't know how your body will react to my magic. I'm going to clean your wounds manually to make the healing as simple as possible for myself, because if I mess up, that could cause some serious problems for you."
"I understand… thank you."
I looked up at him in surprise. His voice was sincere. "Don't thank me yet," I said, hesitating. "This is probably going to hurt pretty badly." I was kneeling right beside him now, my knees pressed up against his outer thigh. Leaning over his chest, I slowly unbuttoned the few buttons that were left on his jerkin. He let out a hiss of pain as I pried it off him. Getting both of his arms out was a feat, and it took at least thirty seconds of difficult finagling. I threw the bloodied jerkin aside, and was unable to suppress my grimace when I turned back around to see the damage.
Oh, his chest wound was awful. Deep, with bits of leather jammed into it. I was going to have to take those out piece by piece. If I hadn't been so worried about him surviving, I would have appreciated the fine view this presented me with. His muscles were excellent, built for a perfect combination of agility and strength. I brought up my wash cloth, keeping eye contact as I did so. I felt like I was tending a wounded animal, and didn't want to spook him.
"Pet, I won't break. Go ahead and do your worse."
I had to smile at that. "You say that now. I haven't even begun to pry these pieces of leather from your wound."
"You look strangely excited about the prospect."
"I enjoy challenges. They are rare in my line of work."
"Which is…" he trailed off, parroting my earlier words.
"You don't want to know, pet." I smiled deviously, pulling out what was probably the deepest hunk of leather in there. To his credit, he didn't do more than clench his teeth and narrow his eyes.
"Wow. Score one for the blood elf." I was legitimately impressed by his restraint.
We stayed in silence for some time while I worked, and he was the one to break it. "What was that book you were writing in earlier?"
"My journal."
"You carry it around with you everywhere and write down the descriptions of corpses?"
"Ha," I smiled, dipping the cloth back into the water. "Not quite. I write down anything interesting that I don't want to forget."
"And you didn't want to forget my attractive body?"
I flinched at his words. Like I needed a reminder in regards to my earlier comments. "Add another slap to that tab for me."
"Talking is a good distraction from pain," he continued. The man was as white as death from blood loss. The fact that he was still so coherent surprised me. "Why do you write?"
I pursed my lips and debated whether I wanted to tell him the truth. It's not like I'd ever see him again anyways. "One day I woke up and I realized I couldn't remember what my own mother had looked like. Since then I've gained a compulsive need to write everything down so I don't forget."
The old pain still brought tears to my eyes, but I held them back.
"I'm sorry," he said. Ah yes, that uncomfortable situation when you have no idea how to console a complete stranger.
"Don't worry about it, blood elf. It's an old wound."
"Call me Lor."
I paused in my work, but didn't take my eyes off the wound. Lor was a lovely name, and it suited him. I was probably expected to return mine. "I'm Chasidah."
"Sounds foreign."
I bit my tongue to prevent a rude retort. For some reason his mockery stung more than the mockery of the humans I worked with. You're so young for a night elf! You're so short for a night elf! What type of name is Chasidah?
"My parents got creative." Pull. He tensed under my hands, but again made no sound. I finished wiping away the dirt and blood around the outside of the wound with one hand while the other began slowly pulling out one last bit of debris. It was almost ready.
"Now if you are done mocking my height, age and name, I'm going to finish what I'm doing."
"I meant no insult," his words came smoothly. "Chasidah is a lovely name, your height is endearing, and if you knew my age you would know why I consider you a child."
I whipped my head up to look him in the eyes. "I had to grow up fast, blood elf."
He raised a brow. "Spare me the story, you will get no pity from me."
"I don't want your pity," I snapped. "Just a modicum of respect, at least until we are done here."
"You don't wish to be considered a child, hmmm?" His voice was gentle but with a sharp edge. I should've reacted to the danger in his voice, but I had been too focused on my task. His hand reached my leg before I could react, and before I knew what was happening I was sitting in his lap, straddling his thighs in a manner that was exceedingly provocative, even in this situation. I couldn't stop the blush that crept into my cheeks, or my soft gasp at the unexpected contact.
"You are naïve in the ways of the flesh, aren't you?" The hand that wasn't gripping my thigh now came up and brushed along my cheekbone. I was transfixed, and couldn't get myself to move or push myself away. He was right, of course. I had never gone beyond an enthusiastic kiss and some touching. And for some reason the coherency of my thoughts was declining rapidly.
"I can't even tell you when I last had a woman, because I don't remember. Life has not been kind to me. If you were not a child, little night elf, I would have already sunk myself deep inside you."
I think my jaw dropped open at that. A feeling stirred deep in my stomach, and my heart began fluttering like a butterfly's wings. But amazingly… I wasn't that afraid. Was it odd that I was flattered that this creature wanted me? I knew what he had meant; I did read a lot. But he had promised not to hurt me, and I still believed that.
"Your purity, not only the physical kind, is a draw for something as tainted as myself," he continued, those fingers now traveling down my neck, over my collar bone. I shivered. "Your spirit and humor are addicting, and that sinful half smile of yours makes me think about how those lips would feel wrapped around my cock."
My breath caught at the imagery. His face twisted into something that looked like a combination of pain and desire. "Damn, woman. Keep cleaning the wound. I need the distraction before I do something unwise."
I looked down automatically, averting my eyes. When I saw the bulge straining against his leather trousers, I know my pale blue complexion turned a deep violet. Averting my eyes quickly in a different direction this time, I reached for the wet cloth.
"Do that again," he whispered so softly I almost didn't think I had heard him. Cloth in hand, I tried to gauge the expression on his face. I couldn't. His head was tilted back against the tree behind him, his beautiful green eyes closed. I took the moment to examine his features once again, now that he wasn't looking.
The moon was shining in at just the right angle so I could get an even clearer image. Now I noticed the lines of stress on his face and the thick, pale scar that slithered over his left eye. I had noticed earlier that the color of his left eye was slightly different than his right; did he still have vision in it? If he was human I would've guessed him to be in his early thirties, which meant he was likely a whole lot older. It was hard to tell because of the dirt and blood, but I had a feeling he would be strikingly handsome if he cleaned it off. Handsome in a rugged, lethal predator sort of way. Not for the faint of heart. And not for you, Chasidah.
"Do what again?" I whispered back, afraid to break the sudden silence. My voice wavered and I gave myself a mental shake. I could handle this.
"Look at me like that. It was almost as lovely as a caress." His words were low and throaty, a borderline growl. I could practically feel the sexual tension in the air now, and his tone made my breath hitch and abdominal muscles clench.
Unbidden, my eyes flickered down. My tongue flicked out of its own accord as his earlier proclamation came to mind and erotic images danced their way through my imagination. Why had I never felt this way with another night elf? A human, even? Why this creature? How could this blood elf cause this strange heat I was feeling?
What would he taste like?
I was losing my mind.
"Pet, you tempt me."
I snapped out of my daze, forcing my gaze back to his wound. "You're dying," I said in a shaky voice. "I suggest you think of more appropriate things."
"Difficult, with you staring at my groin like you just were."
"You told me to."
"Mmm, and do you do everything you are told, pet?" He was just playing with me now, but the heat in his eyes was still very serious.
I turned away from him, dipping the cloth back into the bin to wash it clean. This had become some sort of challenge, and I knew if I hopped off him, I would lose the unspoken battle. So, provocative position it was, then. I was a bit shaken, but I was definitely in control. I had always prided myself on my self-control, in all situations. I liked to think that I reasoned out and rationalized all things in my head, and though I was always easy to surprise, I hadn't panicked or acted truly rash in a situation since I was a child. My peers had even taken to calling me the Frozen Priestess in my youth, and I had only recently been able to escape that namesake with my journey to Stormwind.
But now I felt anything but frozen. I leaned forward, one hand resting on his right shoulder, my free hand bringing the washcloth up to his face. This position left very little space between us, and for the first time in my life I knew what feminine power felt like. His low growl vibrated beneath me, the lust in his eyes searing me as I brushed the dirt and blood off his cheeks and brow. I was playing with fire, I knew. I wasn't sure where my fear of getting burned had run off to.
"Lor," I whispered in my best seductive tone, almost right into his ear. I was on the verge of bursting into laughter as the idea formed in my mind. Though the temptation to flick my tongue out and lick him was there too, dangerously close to becoming a reality. I pulled back and forced my expression to look sincere. "Without all that dirt and blood you look so…." I bit my lower lip suggestively. Sexy, I thought. "…Pretty."
And then I broke into uncontrollable laughter as his face morphed from one of intense lust to mortification.
Without warning, he reached up and grabbed me around the back of my neck.
So this is how I die, I mused internally as Lor dragged me forward into his arms. He had bided his time, waited until I had felt comfortable enough to let my guard down. A spike of anger overwhelmed the fear I had instantly felt for my own demise, and I inhaled a lung full of air so I could scream my lungs out at him while he killed me. I give him a chance at life, and this is how he repays me? Perhaps my peers had been right, and blood elves were indeed the lowest of scum on Azeroth. My first impression of him had been wrong.
To say I was surprised when his lips touched mine is to put it mildly. My anger and fear instantly vanished, replaced by a combination of shock and emotions I don't particularly want to name.
The kiss was as rough as the man, hard and dominating, his tongue demanding entrance into my mouth like he already owned it. I'm ashamed to say my body instantly responded, and for all my boasted self-control, in that moment I had none. One hand still cupped the nape of my neck, and his other had weaved its way into my hair, effectively trapping me in his embrace. I was pressed against Lor's firm chest, my head angled back in a way that would have made me feel vulnerable had I not been overwhelmed with other, more distracting emotions.
I kissed him back with a vehemence that surprised me, my lung full of air whispering out in a soft sigh instead of a scream. Lor growled his approval when I began to respond, the noise a low, sexy rumble in his throat that sent not-unpleasant shivers down my spine. I dug my fingers into his hair and pressed myself more firmly against him, shifting my body so our hips pressed together, because it felt so damn good. I clung to him with a hunger I couldn't begin to fathom, and from the desperate nature of his kiss I knew he felt it as well. I opened my mouth to him and his tongue invaded, claiming my mouth like he wanted to claim my body, and by Elune the man tasted like spring and sunshine and—
"Chasidah!"
The familiar and dreaded voice snapped me out of this sexual haze. Arthur was looking for me.
I flew off of Lor like I had been burned, doing an awkward scramble backwards until my back pressed against the tree behind me. His glowing green eyes held my own with an intensity that branded itself into my mind. Would a man ever look at me that way again? Probably not. Surely, that sort of heat and desire simply didn't happen in life more than once. His expression told me that if I went within grabbing distance of him, we would be continuing where we left off, and then some. It was a heady thing, having him look at me like that. I took a deep breath, steadying myself.
"I have to heal you now," I hissed, leaping back over to him. I picked up the damp cloth and quickly washed off his neck wound. There wasn't as much dirt in this one, but some hair had snaked its way in. I threw the washcloth aside after my quick series of swipes and pulled out the obvious strands of hair. I placed my hands on it then, focusing the entirety of my energy on healing him. Elune, help me help him, I silently prayed as I cast my most powerful healing spell, weaving back skin and muscle and tendons through the sheer force of my will. This spell was supposed to take time, but I didn't have any. I had played with him for too long. I hadn't expected the interruption. I felt that slight fel taint that all blood elves had, and found myself struggling against it.
"Chasidah!"
"Come on!" I seethed at what I couldn't see. That fel energy was disgusting, and I shuddered as I finally pushed it aside and finished the spell. When I opened my eyes, I was met with pink, mended skin. "Thank you thank you thank you," I chanted to Elune as I straddled him again, pressing both of my hands to his chest.
I had just enough magic left to repeat the spell I used on his neck. I concentrated so hard and used so much energy, I felt myself grow dizzy. I had never used my mana so fully. By the time I opened my eyes, I was completely drained. Lor's arms came up to my shoulders to steady me as I swayed. This wound wasn't nearly as well done as the first, but the bleeding had stopped and the worst of it was healed; but this would scar very badly. Blackness encroached on my vision while I tried to catch my breath.
"Chasidah, where are you?!"
Ah! In my extreme focus I had almost forgotten why I was rushing. My head whipped around to face the direction of the calls. I couldn't let him find Lor. He wouldn't hesitate to behead him.
"I have to go," I whispered, meeting a pair of incredulous green eyes. I didn't know if his expression was born from my quick heals or sudden departure."If this human finds you, he will kill you." Quite painfully, and quite publicly I would suspect.
I would never see Lor again, and this fact made me somewhat reckless. My curiosity was far from sated. There were too many unanswered questions. His dry wit and sharp mind had made his company more gratifying than most, if not all of the humans in Stormwind. And since I would never see him again, how could it possibly hurt?
His eyes widened in further surprise as I placed a soft kiss on his cold, chapped lips. "Al diel shala," I whispered against his mouth, secretly enjoying the astonishment that lit his features. Safe travels. One of the few phrases in Thalassian that I knew. I sincerely hoped he wouldn't die, and I felt my fear for him knot in my stomach.
"Thalassian suits you well," he rasped with a slight grin, having regained his composure. "Shorel'aran, pet. Do not worry for me. I will live, because of you." He leaned forward then, his breath mingling with mine. I thought he was about to kiss me again, but his expression turned cold. "The next time you see a wounded Horde in the forest, do not save him. He may not be as magnanimous as I." His voice was soft but laced with steel. I didn't move as he ran his fingers along my cheek and jaw. "Your compassion will get you killed. On the next full moon, I suggest you find someplace safe to stay for the night."
The words were ominous, and I stored them in a mental file for later examination. If I leaned an inch forward, I could kiss him again. I wanted to get lost in him. It was such a new feeling. When had losing control ever felt so good? Treason, treason, treason I repeated to myself. It was treason enough to save him, never mind the consequences of having intimate relations with him.
"Chasdiah!" Closer, this time. I had to go.
Our gazes locked as I tore myself away from him. I shuffled through my bag, grabbing the bread I had wrapped for a snack along with my canteen. I placed them easily within his reach, trying not to fall flat on my face from exhaustion.
I turned to go, but paused as a sudden thought occurred to me. I reached up to the nape of my neck and unsnapped the buckle of my necklace. I had made it myself with my mother's help, one of a set of two. If you ever meet someone who really makes an impression on you, give them one, she had told me. Simple kindness goes a long way.
The silver pendent gleamed in the moonlight as I held it in front of me, the delicate chain unhooked for the first time in years. The pendent was that of a crescent moon, because I had always found them so beautiful. While most night elves enjoyed the moon most when it was full, I found I could appreciate Elune's beauty far more with the subtle mystery a crescent moon always presented, bathing the night in the faintest of lights.
Averting my eyes, I crouched briefly and placed the necklace within his reach.
This man is going to haunt me for a long time, I thought as I spun around and ran. I didn't look back.
...