This story has been transferred to Archive of Our Own (AO3), but here is a short excerpt. I cannot post the full story here due to this website's policy against sexually explicit content. You can find the full story at archiveofourown dot org/works/3881170/chapters/8676133. Just replace the "dot" with a period. Thank you for reading!
UPDATE 3/1/2016: I'm sorry, but due to this website's policy against sexually explicit works, I will no longer be posting or updating any such stories here. Those stories - and most all of my stories in general - can be found on Archive of Our Own (AO3). The link to my AO3 profile can be found in my author profile here. Again, I'm sorry.
Did I Hear
Part One
The first time Marian Hawke heard it, she'd been in the Lowtown market, tracking down a contact Meeran had given her for a job – hopefully her last job with the man. It was late afternoon, and she was tired, hot, and sweaty from a day spent tromping through every street in a half-mile radius and then again because she'd gotten turned around. And she still hadn't found the contact.
But the moment she heard it – that voice, that wonderful, sonorous voice that sent her head spinning and a heat simmering between her thighs – it was as though all of that melted and drained away.
It was the low, rich timbre of a man, quiet yet loud enough to carry through the bustling crowd, slipping into her ear like velvet and making her shiver. At first she'd thought she'd imagined it, but, no, there it came again. And that time she noticed its roughness, a certain husky quality that suggested its possessor had just rolled out of bed after a hard night. Or a night spent in more intimate matters. She shivered again.
"I am telling you," the amazing voice said, "I paid quite handsomely for this just the other day, and this morning it-"
"Have you wandered off again?" Carver cut in. He stood several paces ahead of her, looking back with an arched eyebrow and a tightness around his mouth that said without speaking, Oh no, not this again. She knew that was what it meant; she'd seen it enough times.
Marian rubbed at an ear with a frown. "No, I haven't."
"Have, too." Her brother heaved a sigh. "We're not going to find that contact before sundown if you keep drifting off like that."
"Oh, give me a break," she retorted. "It was just the once."
"So you were, then."
This time she heaved a sigh. She glanced to the west, peering at the rays of sunlight that filtered between the tightly-packed buildings. Carver was right, though; it wouldn't be long before evening set in. As much confidence as she had in throwing around fire and ice, she'd rather not run into any thugs in a dark alley. If nothing else, it meant less time spent washing out stains from her clothes. And a lower risk of templars sniffing after such fights.
"Perhaps we should try again tomorrow," she said, reaching into the satchel at her hip and pulling out a slip of paper. She furrowed her brow as she looked between the directions on it and their surroundings. "I'll check with Meeran again in the morning. It's possible I wrote down the wrong address."
"Very possible."
She shot him a sharp look, resisting the urge to huff and set her hands on her hips as well. As it were, she stuffed the paper back into her bag with a bit more force than necessary as she turned in the direction of home. "I'm not going to argue with you," she said. "Let's just go."
He rolled his eyes but offered no further protest. Thankfully.
As they left, Marian glanced around, searching for the source of that wonderful voice. But by then it was gone, lost amongst the growing noise of merchants closing up their stalls and shoppers making their final selections. With a sigh, she turned her eyes back to the street and resolved to forget about it.
But of course she didn't forget. Later that day, as she lay in her thin straw bed trying to fall asleep, she thought of that voice. She'd heard so little of it, only a sentence or two worth of words, but even that little had been delightful. Like hot mulled wine for the ear. She wondered what such a voice would sound like after waking from a deep sleep or – she blushed to think of it – in the throes of passion.
...
(See the full story at AO3 for more!)