A/N: This story is a companion piece to Together We are Stronger Than One, and this chapter is a continuation of Chapter 12 of that story (for those of you who were wondering what happened between Anders and Isabela). Like Together, this story wouldn't be possible without the boundless love and support of my dear friends, especially my lovely beta, Eve Hawke, and my supportive beta sister (who is also my Isabela muse), Etaine M. You should run off as soon as you read and review this chapter to read their gorgeous stories if you haven't already :) Please note that this story is rated Mature - only adults should be reading it. Enjoy...
~oOo~
Although the Warden Commander swore he would rescue Zoya and keep her safe, Anders found that every step he took toward The Siren's Call, toward his own freedom, weighed heavily on his conscience. His feet stumbled along the worn stone floor of the tunnel even as the wisp zipped along merrily ahead of him to light his way.
Each halting step should have solidified his decision to leave with Isabela. I'm making the right choice. He played the thought through his mind in an endless cycle, wanting to believe it. But the hated and nagging phrase, what if, kept clawing to the surface. What if I'm not making the right choice? What if Duncan is too late and Zoya is gone? What if she's injured and needs my help? And then there were the questions that really made his blood run cold. What if Zoya is what I've been running toward every time I've escaped the Circle? What if I didn't leave with Isabela and instead stayed to join the Wardens... stayed to be with her? A band tightened around his chest as these questions whirled in his head.
His feet slowed, the guilt anchoring him in place. The young elf had brought him back from death, and she'd put herself in harm's way more than once to save his life. She trusted him, and here he was - abandoning her without a word. He should have at least left a letter explaining why he was leaving. But what could he possibly have said? He envisioned the note, written on a scrap of parchment in his scrawling script.
Dearest Zoya - I wish I wasn't leaving, but you deserve better than a life on the run. The Templars have my phylactery and will relentlessly hunt me. I can't put you in that kind of danger. I know you'll be safer with Duncan and the Grey Wardens. Please know that I really do care for you...
Anders shook his head - he doubted that would go over well. The image of her torching the crumpled parchment with a furious ball of flame crossed his turbulent thoughts. Would leaving a note make either of them feel any better about him leaving?
Besides, he knew that these things weren't entirely true. A part of him was glad to be running again, relieved to be escaping what he was starting to feel for her and what staying with her would mean. She'd be safer with the Wardens, anyway... but then, were darkspawn any less of a danger than the Templars?
The wisp bumped up against the smooth surface of the secret panel at the end of the tunnel, casting dizzying shadows in the narrow space. Anders felt for the hidden switch, pausing before triggering it to peer back toward the practice room. He should be glad to escape this place, his latest prison. It was hard to believe he'd been content to stay here for almost a month. Was it any different than the dungeon under the Circle Tower? Even a few days in one of those cells had left him wanting to claw his way through the warded rock with his bare hands. But being here with Zoya - this place almost felt like a home to him, transporting him back to a time before his magic emerged and the Templars dragged him from everything he'd known and loved.
His eyes lingered on the shifting shadows. Was he hoping to see her? He wasn't sure he would be able to walk away if she was standing before him now, but then, he doubted she would let him. Ah... my exotic Zoya... The corners of his mouth quirked upward as visions of the lovely elf played through his mind. He could see her now, an impish grin tugging at lush lips as she teased him. And if he responded in kind, a pretty blush would spread quickly from her cheeks to the tips of her ears, and she'd absently nibble her lip as she considered how to respond.
Zoya had brought him to the tunnels to heal him, to keep him safe from the mage hunters who'd nearly ended him. Anders' first memories after being wrenched free from the empty darkness were of the elf, her light a beacon to guide him back. A shiver raced up his spine at the remembered sensation of her gentle hands soothing his injuries. He'd teased her about her lack of healing skill, but it wasn't so much a lack of ability than a difference in how the magic worked. Zoya's technique was so dissimilar from that taught to apprentices at the Circle where the focus was on cold detachment, the healing magic treating the ailment rather than the person. But there was nothing cold or detached about the fiery elf. Her emotions, specifically her boundless love and compassion, were so obvious in her healing arts... and in the twining of their magic. The memory of their joined power kindled a fire at his center that blazed as his thoughts drifted to the heat of her lithe body and the searing electricity of her lips. A better man than he would have gladly given himself over to her affections. Zoya was a prize worth sticking around and fighting for... wasn't she? So why was he running?
Anders bowed his head, his fingers activating the switch for the last time. His throat tightened, and he drew a ragged breath as the panel slid open. "I'm making the right choice..." he muttered under his breath, repeating the words as he closed his eyes and balled his fists. Zoya doesn't need a coward in her life.
Knowing Isabela, there would be an unhealthy stash of rum on The Siren. The lure of drunken oblivion propelled him through the opening and onto the dock, hastening his steps as he moved along the haphazardly stacked crates that stood between himself and his destination.
Dawn approached, lightening the cloudless sky from an inky indigo to a soft lavender. It wouldn't be long before the docks started to bustle with the day's business. Isabela had said she would wait two hours before leaving, and he knew he was pushing that deadline. He tightened the straps on his pack, gripping the end of his staff to keep it from bouncing against his back as his feet shifted into a hurried run. As he rounded the last row of crates and The Siren' s Call came into view, Anders could see the crew untying lines and pulling the gangplank in preparation to leave the dock. Yelling for them to wait, he waved panicked arms over his head to get the crews' attention.
Anders increased his speed, relief washing over him as a pair of crewmembers re-extended the gangplank and stepped back to allow him passage. Several sets of eyes peered at him with curiosity as he dashed up the narrow strip of wood, hoping he wouldn't slip and fall into the frigid, filthy water as he felt it wobble under his feet.
Any sense of victory he felt about making it aboard ended as his foot caught on the lip where the gangplank attached to the ship. Arms flailing, Anders' body arched in preparation for impact. Feet slamming awkwardly into the weathered wood, he skidded across the ship's deck and careened into a large, wooden barrel being lugged by a brawny pirate. Shimmering silver slopped over the rim as Anders grappled with its circumference, his momentum finally carrying him tumbling forward as he dragged the crewman and the barrel with him. Vile, smelly fish spilled over him; he looked skyward, letting out a heavy sigh. Really? Spitting out a mouthful of rogue scales and a slimy substance he didn't want to think about, he scrubbed the sleeve of his tunic across his face, looking up as the imposing shadow of the now angry sailor towered over him. Anders returned the crewman's disgruntled gaze with a glare backed by the full force of his own foul mood.
After a long moment, the deckhand snarled, "Useless land lubbers." He set the barrel back upright with a grunt, muttering angrily under his breath as he labored to return the spilled fish to the barrel.
"Well, well!" A triumphant voice chuckled behind him. "Lover boy has finally arrived. It's good to see you haven't been completely stripped of your dignity and decided to come after all. So what was it that finally made you decide to leave the elf behind?"
Anders kicked fish away, grimacing as he tried to regain his footing and sighing as his hand slipped out from under him on the slimy deck. He kept his attention focused on the mess beneath him, not wanting to meet Isabela's inquisitive eyes for fear she would see through his casual words. "It turns out that Zoya knows the commander of the Grey Wardens, and he decided to conscript her."
Surprise was evident in Isabela's voice. "Huh... I never saw that coming. So the Wardens to the rescue then? I didn't know they took women in the Wardens. Such a lucky girl." She chuckled. "I've met a few of them in my travels, and let me tell you... stories about their virility and endurance are not exaggerated." She loosed a pleasured sigh.
Anders didn't even need to turn around; the smug smile on those lush lips was more than evident in her tone.
"So sparkles... has anyone ever told you that you really know how to make a memorable entrance?" Isabela laughed.
Anders sighed, "As much as I enjoy being a source of entertainment for you, perhaps you could help me here?"
Isabela stepped around to stand before him, bending low to give him a better view of her ample cleavage. "Oh my lovely mage, as tempting as it is, I'm not laying my hands on you until you get cleaned up." She plucked a silvery scale from his tunic and rubbed it between her fingers, wrinkling her nose. "Even a pirate has to have standards..."
Anders staggered to his feet, Isabela hovering just out of reach and watching him with an amused grin as he continued to slip in the slime. "Fine. Perhaps you would be so kind as to show me to my quarters so I can clean myself off?" Anders growled.
Isabela rolled her eyes, waving a hand toward the hatch leading to the crew quarters, "I've more important things to do than play tour guide, lover. Maybe Gustaf here would be willing to help you out - he's a giver." Isabela offered Anders a suggestive wink as she nodded toward the crew member that he'd collided with earlier.
He swallowed hard as the burly pirate strode toward him, dark eyes glowering above a bushy black beard. The imposing man paused to pass an appraising glance over Anders before continuing across the deck, grumbling under his breath. Glaring at Isabela, Anders stalked after the crew member.
Isabela only laughed as she called out him. "If you're really nice to Gustaf, maybe he'll even find you a bottle of rum..."
~oOo~
Isabela perched in the crow's nest, delighting in the cool salt air breezing over her skin and the gentle movement of the ship as it glided over the waves. This was by far her favorite place on the whole ship - she had views to the horizon and could watch her crew bustling about at their tasks. She stretched languidly into the netting surrounding the small platform, letting her eyes slip shut as she exhaled a small sigh of bliss. Maybe no one would object if she just stayed here and basked in the warmth of the rising sun.
Tipping her head back over the netting, she watched her men at work. She'd picked up a few new crewmembers in Denerim, and it was always a chore showing them the ropes. Precious few ships were captained by women, especially like herself, and every time it was the same thing - she had to tell the new ones that they needed to keep their paws to themselves, and they didn't always get it. No... she'd be better off just letting one of the more experienced hands show them what to do. Casavir, her first mate, would know how to handle the new men, and he seemed to enjoy torturing them with tasks that none of the other crew would do. Who was she to deprive him of his fun?
Speaking of fun... Isabela rolled over in the netting as Anders emerged from the ship's hold. He'd managed to get cleaned up, but she could tell by the set of his shoulders and the stiffness in his steps that his mood hadn't improved. She chuckled - maybe Gustaf wasn't his speed.
She watched as he stalked over to the ship's railing, his focus on the docks shrinking into the distance. Crewmembers sometimes got like this when they'd been at sea for too long and had been wishing for dry land and someone to warm their bed. Slipping her spyglass from the pouch on her belt and raising it to her eye, she focused on the wharf, curious about what had the mage so transfixed.
With the dawn came workers, scurrying about as they moved cargo from ship to landing and back again. But it was furtive movement in the shadows of the crates that caught her attention - she watched as a small figure with flaming red hair dashed along the dock, an armored human in tow. Andraste's flamey bits, how had the girl managed to escape the Templars? Isabela groaned - if Anders sees Zoya on the docks, he's never going to shut up about abandoning the little elf. He might even push her to return to Denerim. As she watched the interaction between Zoya and the armored man, she realized that this must be the Warden that Anders told her about. From what Isabela could see of the well-built, swarthy man, Zoya was a lucky girl indeed. Isabela suddenly realized a way to get Anders past his infatuation - if the mage saw his beloved elf getting chummy with another man... Sliding down the rigging, Isabela quickened her stride as she moved across the deck.
Even with his back to her, she could picture the look of desperation and the dangerous glint in his eye. If Isabela was going to have the old Anders to herself, getting his mind off the silly little elf needed to be her first task. "Why hello there, sparkles." Slipping a hand beneath his arm, she pulled it tight into the soft curve of her breast. "What seems to have your smallclothes in such a knot, my dear mage?" Running her hands up his back and across his shoulders, she stepped in close to him. The tension rolled off him in waves. "Andraste's sweet breath, you smell good." Leaning close to his ear, she pressed her breasts against his back as she took a deep breath. "Mmmm…. How about you come with me and I'll do all the helping you like now!"
Anders was as immovable as The Siren's mast and even less responsive. Isabela snorted inelegantly - she wasn't sure what she expected. "Still pouting like someone stole your cookies I see." Isabela pulled her spyglass from its pouch, handing it to him as she nodded toward the docks. "I thought you might be interested in seeing this."
With a suspicious glance at the pirate, Anders raised the bronze tube to an eye and swept his vision along the length of the wharf. Isabela resisted the urge to point the elf out to him, waiting for him to find the girl himself. It was obvious when he spotted her - the sharp intake of breath and noticeable flinch gave it away. His shoulders slumped, and he closed his eyes as he silently handed the spyglass back to Isabela.
For a brief moment, she actually felt sorry for Anders. In the years that she'd known him, Isabela had never seen him like this - so quiet and broody. The Anders she knew was never grumpy; he was always quick to joke and make the most of opportunities as they came up. His approach to life had been to have fun today because tomorrow you might not be free to do so. What had the little elf done to her frisky mage? She wasn't going to give him up as a lost cause yet - she was going to get the old Anders back. And if not, well... she could always leave him in Amaranthine.
Isabela bit back an I told you so as she tucked the heavy tube back into its pouch. Could Zoya make this any easier for her? There was nothing better for making a man move on than to have him see his girl in someone else's arms. At this rate, she'd be rutting with the mage before lunch.
Sliding her hand up, she brushed a blonde lock of hair back from his face. "So you see my dear mage, everyone can be happy. The little elf can run off and play hero with her delicious mentor, and you can head below deck and play cabin boy with your sultry captain. It's a win-win for everyone."
Anders wrapped bruising fingers around her wrist, shoving her away from him, "Knock it off, Isabela. I'm not in the mood for your games."
Isabela narrowed her eyes at him before looking to see if any of her men were watching. She wasn't about to be manhandled on her ship and in front of her crew, not that she would object to him handling her in the privacy of her quarters. The mage was pressing his luck. Resting a fist on her jutted hip, she pushed her full lower lip out and looked up at him through dark lashes. Not many men had been able to resist that particular look, but somehow the mage was oblivious. "I thought maybe your unwillingness to play was the elf's influence, but now I'm wondering if there isn't another reason." Now was the time to push hard if she was going to break him out of his foul mood and maintain an upper hand. "Maybe you've lost your edge, or maybe you're feeling a little unsure of your skills? Awww... or maybe you're only sailing at half-mast? The turtle's afraid to come out of his shell? You're missing your tent pole? Your little soldier won't salute?" Pushing him about his feelings for the elf no longer seemed to be getting a rise out of the mage, but questioning his prowess... well... she'd learned through the years that not many men would take that lying down. She chuckled as she turned her back on him, knowing his agitation was only growing as she dismissed him. Men... so predictable.
"I said shut it, Isabela!" Anders blurted, the tension simmering behind the tone of his voice.
Isabela turned to regard him, a coy smile spreading across her face. He was reaching that breaking point, his jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists. "Aw... I could come up with those all day, lover." She snickered.
"Maybe you're thinking of one of your other conquests." Anders growled. "You know damned well that's never been a problem for me."
"Do I?" she purred, raising a suggestive eyebrow as she let her gaze travel over him, lingering on the bulge in his pants. That was one good thing the elf had managed to do - get the mage into pants that clung in all the right places. And if things went her way, he'd soon be out of them. "It's been too long," she pouted. "Maybe I need you to remind me." She traced the tip of her tongue along the fullness of her lips, feeling a surge of triumph as his attention was drawn to the practiced movement.
He rolled his eyes, making an effort to look like he was successfully ignoring her attempts to distract him. "I'm not that easy, Isabela." He turned to walk away.
"Since when?" She pressed on, knowing she had nearly landed him. He might make a show of protesting, but she'd seen that lustful look in his eye before. "Come now, sparkles! I thought you were a harder nut to crack than that." She laughed, regarding him through dark lashes. "I hope you get over it, whatever it is. I miss the old Anders; he was always up for a good time." Knowing Anders to have always been fond of the chase,she gave him one last lingering glance before she turned on her heel. Feeling his eyes on her, she put an exaggerated sway to her shapely hips as she sauntered away. Isabela paused at the entrance to the crew cabins below deck, running her hands over the boning of her corset. "You know where to find me... when you change your mind."
~oOo~
Anders clenched his teeth, his gut churning and his knuckles white from gripping the railing. He wasn't sure what was causing him the most discomfort - his guilt over leaving Zoya behind or the rolling of this cursed ship. Peering again toward the dock, he made one last futile attempt to catch a glimpse of Zoya. Andraste's flaming knickers - why in the Void did I leave?
Logic fought to re-establish dominance, She's safer not playing fugitive with me while I run from the Templars. It was difficult enough to stay one step ahead of the mage hunters, but if he had to also worry about Zoya? The image of Duncan holding her in a tight embrace, the silver gleam of his gauntlet tangling in her crimson hair, tore through his mind. Besides, now she has her precious Warden to take care of her. The dark jealousy kindled moments ago when he saw them together on the dock leapt to life with renewed intensity.
He forced the temptation of Isabela's proposition into his mind. Why am I hesitating? Turning away from the railing, he ran his hands over his hair, familiar anticipation building as he stalked after the pirate.
She hadn't gotten far. Her movements were languid as she made her way along the corridor, glancing over her shoulder to make sure he was following and only pausing once she reached her cabin door. Anders caught up with her as she was sliding the portal open, one arm snaking around her waist to pull her tight against him as the other hand grasped her full breast. As he buried his face in hair that smelled of salty sea air, Isabela arched her back to press back against him, her shapely ass grinding against his hardening length. A groan escaped his lips, Maker... it had been far too long...
"Finally," she breathed. "Maker's balls! There's my favorite lusty mage! And with his Templar standing at attention even..."
Anders felt a growl rumbling from deep within, and he pushed her into the cabin, not loosening his grip until they reached the work table at one end of the small room. He released her just long enough to sweep the maps and bottles from its worn wooden surface, caring not that they clattered to the floor in a frightful mess. Tangling his fingers in the dark waves of her hair, he pressed her down onto the table.
"Mmmm… someone is in a mood to play rough..." Isabela purred as she continued to rub against him.
"Shut up, Isabela." Deft fingers reached around to unlace her pants, shoving them out of the way before undoing his own. In one swift movement that left them both gasping, he pushed into her, burying himself in her slick warmth. For that moment, nothing else mattered, and he was able to lose himself to that silky heat. He closed his eyes as he pounded into her at a relentless pace, her feral grunts of pleasure only spurring him on. Within moments, she was tightening around him, coaxing him toward release. When it finally came, it was with an intensity that was almost painful. Vigorous movement slowed and then ceased, a final shuddering breath the only indication of his finish.
As he calmed his ragged breathing, he barely glanced at the woman sprawled on the table before him. Untangling his fingers from her thick locks, he sighed heavily and ran indifferent hands through his own hair. Pulling free from the pirate's heated grip, he tucked himself away and fastened his pants before turning to silently escape the cabin.
Isabela chuckled, calling out to his retreating back, "Well that was entertaining, but next time I get to choose the game, sparkles."
~oOo~
Isabela forced a lusty smile and a throaty laugh as Anders drew his pants up and exited her cabin with a haste that would make even a practiced whore feel cheap and used. She half expected him to toss a coin onto the table as he stalked out the door.
"Well... that was... fast," Isabela muttered under her breath as she pulled her own pants up and settled the rest of her attire back into place. Not exactly the victory celebration I was hoping for, she thought as a slight frown carved furrowed creases into her forehead.
I'll need to remind myself next time to be careful what I wish for. While he'd finally taken her bait, any triumph she felt had only lasted as long as their intense, yet all too brief, romp. What in the Fade happened to that sodding mage? No man in their right mind, Anders included until he'd met that silly little elf, had resisted her seduction in the past. Knowing men's desires to have new things - especially Zoya's kind of new - Isabela had tolerated Anders' reluctance at first. But his persistent pining for the elf was starting to lead her down a path to a place of insecurity that she refused to revisit... ever. Her past had taught her to hate being dependent on a man for anything. As much fun as Anders could be, if things didn't change soon... he wasn't worth the trouble.
Everyone had to contribute - there are no free rides on a pirate ship - and she couldn't think of many who wouldn't jump at the chance to fulfill what she wanted from him. It's not like I'm asking him to come aboard and be a deckhand and scrub floors all day! Sure... she hadn't been entirely clear what she meant when she told Anders she could use someone with his skills, wanting to keep his duties flexible. A healer was a valuable commodity, and his other talents just made him that much more prized. She chuckled, knowing that while playing ship's doctor, he was likely to run into some interesting illnesses and injuries - she never ceased to be amazed by the things these men did or had done to themselves or each other. The smile soon died on her lips and she shook her head. No... if the mage didn't prove his worth soon, he'd have to go.
Picking up a chicken-egg-sized opal that Anders had swept from her desk, she began pacing the open space of her cabin, trying to devise one final plan to draw the fun Anders out from the useless shell of a man he'd become. She absently caressed the smooth surface of the iridescent gem, one of the few things from the Chantry heist she wasn't planning to sell or hand over to Castillon, as she paced the smooth plank floor. Such mindless action helped her think.
"Hmmm," Isabela mussed, tossing the bauble into the air, her eyes lingering on the rainbow playing across its smooth surface until her footsteps halted and she snatched the descending jewel mid-air. "Yes!" she exclaimed with a wry grin as a solution came to her. A favorite Amaranthine brothel - one that held some particularly steamy memories between herself and the pre-elf Anders - popped into her mind. A new girl was working there, one she doubted Anders had yet to meet. What was the girl's name - Ruby? Scarlet? Not that her name really mattered - she'd be just the thing to get the little elf out of Anders' system!
She paced over to the portal, leaning a temple against her palm as she braced an elbow upon the curved wooden frame of the window. Isabela imagined the shapes of Amaranthine appearing on the horizon of the sea stretched out before The Siren, uncharacteristically eager to reach dry land. Her mind whirled with devious ideas for luring Anders to the brothel and introducing him to the new prostitute with the fiery red hair.
The problem with Anders solved, Isabela's scheming shifted to thoughts of adventure and plunder. She was expecting a large bounty for the items she'd retrieved from the Chantry vault, but she also had other pilfered items to unload for a profit that could create problems if not done right. It was usually best to spread the wealth between multiple cities to avoid suspicion. She returned to the desk and retrieved the maps that Anders had hastily knocked to the floor, her careful hands smoothing the documents. Turning her focus to the fastidiously drawn coastline and hazards with their meticulous notes, she plotted The Siren's course following their departure from Amaranthine.
Urgent pounding on the door interrupted Isabela's study of the maps. With a sigh, she rose to her feet and stretched. Her eyes were drawn to the reddish light seeping through the porthole. Red skies at night, sailor's delight... Had she really lost so much of the day? She moved across the room and tugged open the heavy wooden door. Casavir stood in the corridor, his arms crossed and a frown cutting across his craggy face. His shirt was torn and his nose bloodied. Isabela gave him an expectant look, "Something I should know about, Cas?"
Casavir peered past her into her cabin, "We've got a problem up top. One of the new crew seems to be bedding the same girl as Old Tom and neither of them was happy to find out about it." He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, leaving a smear of blood. "What started as a match between them has turned into an all-out brawl. There were at least three men down with stab wounds by the time I came to get you and the mage."
Isabela sighed, "Is there anyone that helmsman hasn't tumbled?" She ran hasty hands through her hair, not sure if she was more annoyed that her first mate assumed she had Anders with her, or that she had to admit he wasn't there. "I'll go get the mage and you head back up top to try to break up the fight." She groaned at her first mate's questioning stare. "Just do what you usually do - tell them I'll keelhaul anyone still fighting by the time I get up there."
~oOo~
Anders tipped his head back, feeling the last of the cheap rum burn its way down his throat. Falling onto his bunk, he let the empty bottle slip to the floor with a heavy sigh. He'd thought that traveling on the ship would be a welcome respite. It wasn't like Templars could sneak up on him while he was adrift in this wide expanse of blue. Isabela wasn't kidding when she said she had need of someone with his skills, although he'd assumed she was referring to a different skillset. Before he'd even had a chance to choke down his salted fish, there was already a queue a dozen men long waiting for healing. Between curing pirates of diseases caught from cheap whores and patching up wounds from accidents among the crew, he was exhausted.
He closed his eyes, letting his body relax into sleep. The seductive smell of old leather and wildflowers tickled his nose as he felt his body sinking into deeper slumber. He ignored the inner voice warning him to stop the dream before it could start.
Precious moments slipped by as he unraveled the barrier she'd erected, his urgency to pursue her building with each breath. When it finally dropped, rock dust poured out onto the landing in a thick, choking cloud. Maker, what had she done? He channeled magic into the end of the staff and clambered over debris to reach the tunnels. There was no sign of Templars or Zoya among the rubble. Carefully picking his way through the large chunks of stone, he followed the clamor of armor and clashing of steel further down the passageway. A band tightened around his chest as all suddenly went silent; the dread threatened to overcome him even as he hurried his steps.
He bit back a despairing cry as his searching eyes spotted Zoya curled up on the floor of a side tunnel, her blood pooling on the smooth stone. Rushing forward, he dropped to his knees beside her, struggling against the urge to pull the elf into his arms before he could determine the extent of her injuries. Multiple ragged wounds were visible on her back where the Templars' swords had ripped through armor and skin.
Anders took a deep breath, tentatively reaching for his power and feeling it at the edge of his senses. Glancing skyward, he gave silent thanks to the Maker that the Templars hadn't cleansed the area of magic. He urged the healing blue aura to spread from his hands to encompass the motionless elf. She was barely alive, her slowing heartbeat faltering as shallow breaths rattled in her chest; he needed to act quickly if he was going to save her.
Fury built in him as he rolled her onto her back, the extent of her injuries making his gut churn. Willing his magic to knit muscle and bone and fuse skin, he watched in relief as the gaping wounds started to close.
Dark lashes fluttered against pale skin, green eyes struggling to focus on him. Confusion was clear on her face as her voice rasped, "Anders… What are you doing here?"
"As if I could abandon you…" He gently stroked her cheek with a glowing hand. "By the Void – what were you thinking, running off to face the Templars alone like that?"
Zoya's eyes slipped shut as she dragged her tongue across bloodless lips. "I was thinking I was saving you – giving you a chance to escape."
"Did you ever consider that we could have escaped together?" Anders shook his head, letting the healing aura extinguish. "You just needed to be on the other side of the barrier."
The corners of her lips twitched upward, "Yeah… that thought crossed my mind as the Templars ran me through the second time. By the fourth time, I was really flogging myself for being so short-sighted…" She groaned as quiet laughter tugged at her newly healed injuries. "So I suppose we're even now… You saved me from the Templars." She winked at him as she reached up to caress his cheek. "My hero…"
Zoya rolled onto an elbow trying to push herself upright. Anders offered her his hand, and she pulled herself onto her knees across from him. The top part of her armor was shredded, likely beyond repair, and Anders gaze was drawn to the soft curve of a pale breast visible through one of the tears. Resisting the need to touch that alluring skin, his hands rose to the buckles of his own jerkin, shrugging free of the leather and handing it to her. "We can't have you traveling through Denerim with your armor looking like that…"
Regarding him with lidded eyes, Zoya tossed the offered jerkin aside as nimble fingers plucked at the lacings and buckles of her ruined armor. His mouth went dry as she slipped free of the supple leather, the steady radiance of the glowlight reflecting off alabaster skin when she finally stood naked before him. She glanced up at him demurely through dark eyelashes even as her full lips curved into a wicked smile. Anders' eyes traveled hungrily over her, his overwhelming need for this elf an inferno raging within his core.
Rising from his knees, he went to her, a moth drawn to an irresistible flame. He reached out to caress her cheek, the skin impossibly smooth beneath his palm. Twining her fingers with his, she pressed her face into his hand as glittering eyes fluttered shut. Tipping her head toward him, he bent to close the distance between them, the tender touch of their lips growing bolder as their mouths melded. Her fingers cupped his face as their kiss deepened, tongues sliding against each other. Reverent fingertips brushed down her neck, over the delicate curves of her breasts and the lean muscles of her torso before finding their way to her most intimate place. The vibration of her soft moan against his lips jolted through him as her lissome body trembled under his hands, unraveling any vestige of his self-control.
Rosebud lips tore free with a delighted gasp, fingers clutching at his shirt. A beguiling blush spread from her cheeks across her breasts, her freckles disappearing under the rosy hue. Ardent hands slipped under the hem of his shirt, gathering the light fabric as they moved up his chest before drawing the garment over his head.
Verdant eyes locked onto his as she loosed a quivering breath that fluttered over his skin as softly as her nimble fingers. His heart thudded in his chest, a rasping breath escaping his lips as she arched into him, the heat from her flushed skin grazing his. Wrapping his arms around Zoya's slender waist, he pulled her in tighter. Thick lashes fluttered over desirous eyes that dropped to his lips even as deft fingers threaded into his hair, gripping the nape of his neck to pull his mouth down to hers. No sooner had their lips touched before her tongue sought his out, initiating a slow dance that languidly quickened its tempo as their fervid hands explored each other's skin.
Anders broke free from their kiss, quieting Zoya's objections with a finger lingering on her lips. He took his time, lavishing her with attention from his mouth and hands as he slowly lowered himself to his knees, the stone cold and smooth against his back as he knelt before her, ever the attentive servant to his fiery goddess. He was unable to suppress a smile as she squirmed against his worshipful mouth. She sang her carnal song to the heavens, her head thrown back and hands tangled in his hair until he felt her shuddering sigh.
She lowered herself to straddle his lap, deft fingers unfastening his pants. His aching need for her, for this union... she was life-giving water to the desert of his parched body. His hands slid over the length of her back, urging her closer as she arched into him. It felt different to be face-to-face with a woman as she straddled him, but he suddenly couldn't imagine it any other way. Her arms twining around his neck, the intimate grazing of her breasts against his chest... how easy it was to lean in, brush her lips with his, touch his forehead to hers. The way she fit in his embrace only proved they were made for each other.
Her voice was thick with desire, "Anders... I... I need you... now." His breath caught as firm fingers wrapped around his length, freeing him from the confines of his pants before slowly lowering herself onto him. A hoarse groan escaped his lips but was quickly silenced by Zoya claiming his mouth as her silky heat enveloped him.
Strong legs fastened around his waist as heat gathered and pulsed at his center. Zoya's clinging warmth and the sweetness of her mouth was blissful torture. He wanted more, needed more. Their eyes locked, and he felt himself tumbling into the deep, green depths of her sultry gaze. The connection between them sparked and surged as they moved together, savoring the sensations of their joining.
Zoya's lips traveled from his mouth along his jaw, her tongue playing with the hoop in his ear before she sucked his earlobe into her mouth, gentle teeth nibbling on the sensitive skin. Her breath was hot on his neck, "Are you going to wake up and answer the door?"
"Hmm... what are you talking about? What door?" Anders tried to focus but the circular motion of her hips as her heat gripped his length, the brush of her breasts against his skin, and her hands tangling in his hair was so deliciously distracting.
"Isabela's knocking on the door to your cabin. You should wake up and answer before she picks the lock, lets herself in and feels obliged to finish what you've started. Unless that's what you're hoping for..." These weren't the sweet nothings he would have wanted her whispering in his ear. Her fingernails trailed lightly along his spine as her mouth made its way back to his.
Anders wanted nothing more than to lose himself to those soft lips, to her velvety warmth. He groaned as she sucked his lower lip into her mouth and tugged gently, her nails digging a little deeper into his back as she tightened around him. The knocking was becoming more insistent, and he could hear Isabela calling his name. "Maker's breath... the Void take her..."
Zoya leaned back from him, her eyes sad and her voice hoarse. "Just one thing, Anders... Were you thinking of me when you had her bent over that desk?" She searched his face, nodding as a look of bewilderment crossed his features, "I beg you... please don't..."
He dragged himself from sleep, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Even now he could taste the salty tang of her sweat and feel her warmth wrapped around him. Her sudden absence left a hollowness at his core. What was wrong with him? Why was this girl haunting him? Even now, he only wanted to curl back up and let his dreams take him in the hope that he would find her waiting.
Reluctantly pushing himself free of the bed, he tried to adjust himself so his arousal wasn't so obvious. Cursed pants - if he was wearing his robes... Isabela's pounding hadn't ceased, but had only become more insistent. He pulled the door open, yawning as he spoke in a weary tone, "What do you want Isabela. Playing doctor to your merry band of pirates has worn me out - I'm trying to sleep."
Isabela looked him over, her eyes lingering on the erection straining against his breeches. "Uh-huh... sleep... right." She winked as she smirked at him. "Well... at least you're happy to see me." Her face suddenly became serious. "But as much as I'd rather indulge your needs, I could really use your help. We've got a bit of a situation on deck that needs your special attention. There are wounded men, and I'm thinking you might know a way to cool down those hot-heads. We have to stop the fighting before things really get out of hand."
Anders nodded tersely, "A healer's work is never done..." Grabbing his shirt and tunic from the end of his bed, he threw them on as he followed Isabela out the door.
Isabela shot a lascivious glance over her shoulder, "Play your cards right, sparkles, and I'll make sure you're amply rewarded for all your hard work..."