I'm not going to bother you with a super-de-duper long authors note. Because I know when I read, I just skip them anyway!
Enjoy!

"Altair, you're a fool. I hope you're aware."

It had been more than a week since Altair had stumbled in, his side wound bleeding profusely. Once he had gained enough consciousness to speak, he told Irfan the story of how he came to acquire such an injury and the young girl who was so eager to help him. The baffled man then started harassing him with questions. Why hadn't he stayed? Why did he risk dying to come back before healing? Who was the girl? Did he catch her name? How old was she...?

"Irfan, stop with the verbal abuse," Altair said exasperatingly. "I realize I made an extremely poor decision. But what's done is done. It's the past and the past will not make this damned wound heal any faster! And besides, it's not like--"

Both men froze as a small, timid female voice came from the roof.

"Hello? Hello, is anyone here? And if you are here, are you alright? I followed the blood trail, and I know I tended to your wound. At least, I hope you're the same person or else I'll look completely idiotic and--"

"We're inside madam," Irfan called, ignoring Altair's furious expression.

"How am I supposed to get in? There's no ladder leading inside from up here..."

"You'll have to climb," Altair grumbled, his voice laced with iciness.

A few squeals, several loud curses, and one bruised knee later, the woman stood in front of both men, one grinning mischievously, one frowning deeply. They both looked her up and down, noting her modest dress. Her dark brown, almost black hair was braided back and out of her face with several wisps flitting across her face. Her straight nose, high cheekbones, and gently sloping shoulders gave her a regal look. She wasn't skinny, but by no means was she fat either. Needless to say, Irfan was impressed that Altair could just flat out refuse this woman's hospitality.

"I would be ever so honored to learn your name, miss," Irfan bowed deeply, causing the woman to blush.

"Anisah," she said.

"Beautiful name," Irfan exclaimed and then gestured to Altair and himself. "The angry one is Altair and I am Irfan. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," Anisah said, the corners of her mouth twitching. She bowed slightly to Irfan to then settle her gaze on Altair. His hood covered his face this time but she could still picture the handsome face under it. Seeing Anisah's attention captured by the injured assassin, Irfan quietly exited the room. However, he paused just outside the doorway, listening to their conversation.

"Why did you run?" Anisah all but demanded an answer out of Altair as she sat down. He kept quiet so she went on. "You could have died! I told you that you needed to let it heal before getting up and walking! What were you thinking? Honestly, I don't think I've ever met a man whose skull is as thick--"

Anisah barely saw his hand before it grasped her wrist, mid-gesture, and pulled her to him.

"Now, listen and listen well," Altair growled, the intensity of his brown eyes scaring her yet Anisah found herself riveted. "You are extremely lucky that I am a patient man. I should kill you for throwing insults at me like I am some sort of child. I should have killed you for even seeing my face." Altair paused, his eyes raking over her features. "Yet, I take pity on you because you do not know how quickly I could end your life. Do not make the mistake of underestimating me, understood?"

"Yes," Anisah squeaked, her eyes focused on his mouth. Gleaming, white teeth flashed behind soft-looking, full lips. She wondered if they were truly as soft as they appeared to be. Licking her own lips that were suddenly dry, Anisah spoke. "How is your wound?"

"Fine."

"May I see?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so!" Altair said with an air of ringing finality. "Irfan does just fine tending to it."

"Not if he uses the wrong bandages," Anisah mumbled, getting to her feet and turning her back to Altair. She didn't see him coming.

He roughly pushed her against the wall before she even had time to gasp as the air left her lungs. The weight of his body made it hard for her to get a breath. His smoldering eyes were mere inches from her own face. She could feel his breath on her lips as he spoke. His hands pinned her arms at her sides. "You seem to not know when you should shut your mouth."

"So, what are you going to do? Kill me?" Anisah taunted breathlessly. "Go ahead. I doubt many people would care, not counting my parents." The look in Altair's eyes changed from one of pure fury, to fury mixed with understanding mixed with...something else. His eyes flitted down to her lips, back up to her eyes repeatedly. Her breathing quickened. She wondered what he was thinking. He leaned slightly in so that his lips were barely a centimeter from her own. Anisah leaned forward and closed her eyes, wishing to feel contact, but he pulled away quickly.

"There is more than one way that I could kill you," Altair smirked.

"What are you?" Anisah blurted out.

"Believe me, you do not want to know."

"Yes, I do," she complained. "It would help me figure out why you're so stubborn." And so seductive, she thought but didn't voice. "And why you keep threatening to kill me."

"Alright," Altair conceded. "If you run, if you inform anyone, if you even have a minor slip of your tongue of what I am, I will hunt you down. There will be no mercy and I will gladly look into your eyes as the light of life leaves them."

Anisah gulped loudly but nodded her head in agreement.

"I am an assassin."

"I'm sorry, what?" Anisah's eyes widened. Her father had warned her about such men. The assassins, said her father, were ruthless killing machines and incapable of any emotion whatsoever. He had said they were demons in disguise, that they were horribly deformed, evil, and sent by the devil himself to torture and kill innocent people. However, surveying Altair's face, she could barely believe a man who looked like he did could be a demon or even anything remotely evil.

"You heard me," Altair replied, releasing her. "I'm an assassin." Keeping his eyes on her, she wobbled slightly on her own feet.

"You can't be an assassin. You can't be!" Anisah exclaimed. "You look nothing like what my father described of them! You're handsome, and not evil! I won't believe it." Her slip of the tongue surprised her and well as him.

He snorted, "Handsome? Hardly. Evil? Possibly."

"Have you even looked at yourself clearly?"

"Why? I've had no reason to," Altair said, incredulously. "I'm a killer. We have no reason for vanity."

"Well, then. You may be surprised," Anisah smiled gently.

Altair blinked in surprise as Irfan entered the room.

"Now, what to do with her now that she knows our little secret?" He exclaimed, throwing his arms wide and chuckling at the looks on their faces. "Yes, I was listening. But no matter, what should we do?"

"I need to go home before dark," Anisah spoke up. "My family will already be worried."

"That's perfectly fine! Altair, could you please...?"

Altair had already grabbed her arm and was directing her out of the roof top of the building.

Woo! Chapter two finished. Sorry for how short it is.
Thanks for reading!