She didn't wait for an answer and opened the door to fall backwards into the room. He followed without a word, his hand reaching out to steady her, trailing along her shoulder deliciously as he stepped closer. When she looked up his face was shadowed and hidden, barely touched by the dim glow of her bedside candle. She moved slightly, just enough to illuminate him more fully, and the light bounced perfectly from the slope of his cheek. A shadow of a beard was forming underneath it, and she shivered at the memory of it against her skin.

"Cold?" he asked.

Cassandra gripped the hem of her shirt firmly and drew it up over her head. "Not at all."

She worried briefly that it was too forward for him, but Cullen swore and slammed the door behind him without any hint of disapproval. But when he only drank her in without moving, she took his hand and guided it to the bare flesh of her hip with agonizing slowness. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, his throat working in gentle rhythm as he massaged her skin exactly as she'd imagined. "Oh Maker," he breathed, mirroring the movements on the other side, working his way up her body. "You're so soft. And hard. I don't know…"

Her own fingers explored the hard planes of his chest and stomach, finding the scars she'd memorized and drawing out even more ragged breaths as he fought for control. She hummed appreciatively when his hips jerked forward at her skim of his waistband. "And you're gorgeous, Cullen," she whispered into the darkness.

He blindly tugged her forward, lips seeking hers desperately. They brushed against her cheek and nose before he found the warmth of her mouth and tasted her again. And she realized she'd never really been kissed by this man at all.

He kissed as though he was afraid she would vanish, all vulnerability and anguish underneath his strength. He seemed to know what she wanted before she did, and he pushed when she needed his power and pulled away, light as a feather, when she craved teasing. She followed his lead, trying to match his own skill with limited success, but he never complained or stopped. Instead he took his time, exploring her until her lips were swollen and tingling and beautifully warm.

It was some time before she realized that he was murmuring words whenever he paused to draw breath, snatches of the Chant. They were verses of thankfulness, of blessing, that she knew as well as her own name. They were beautiful and sacred, and even as the Divine's Right Hand she knew they were beyond her own worth.

She tried to tell him she didn't deserve such reverence, but he whispered her name and silenced her gently with his finger. He moved his hand to her cheek and cradled it so gently that tears formed behind her closed eyes. When one spilled beneath her lashes and traced down to touch his finger., he wiped it away with the pad of his thumb and swept his tongue into her mouth again. He spoke no more words, but she felt them washing over her anyway.

His other hand drifted to her breast band, and he paused to say softly, "May I?"

Any other man it would have been perfunctory, a rote request for an action that was already taking place. From him, it was a true request, and she wondered if she could ever understand a man who could drive her to such desirous heights and treat her like she could break all at the same time.

To mask her confusion, she pulled the band off before he had a chance. "You don't have to ask," she said.

"I do," he said, but his words came from far away as he leaned back to study her. A small growl escaped him. "It's too dark in here."

And then she laughed, a startling sound that echoed in the still room. He tore his gaze away from her chest with difficulty and looked at her, confused. "What?"

"I was not sure if you'd ever notice any part of me beyond my lips."

His lopsided grin was even more dangerous in the half-light. "Oh, I've noticed," he said. He ran his hands over her stomach, up over her breasts to her shoulders, and back down once more. "I'm a very noticing kind of person." His next circuit left whimpering with her eyes closed, and the third ended with his fingers underneath the band of her leggings, drawing them down slightly before moving away again.

"Don't tease me, Cullen," she said, but she didn't bother to hide the satisfaction in her voice.

And he didn't pretend to miss it. "Stop me, then," and there was a smile behind his desire.

Cassandra tugged his pants down without warning, exactly when his hands were roving over her breasts once more. He gasped and stopped, staring at without any hint of humor, and she smiled. "I will."

She pulled him back in for a searing kiss. There was no more softness, only hard need, and he snarled as she tightened her grip on him, winding her fingers in his hair to keep him still as she nipped and licked down his jaw and neck. She left a space between them, giving his fingers access to the newly exposed skin he was no longer toying with but kneading urgently.

She was so caught up in him that she was barely aware that they were moving, wandering towards her bed, until she hit the corner post with a slight thump.

"Sorry," he mumbled against her, never stopping.

"I'm not," she said, and it was the truth. The arrested motion had pressed his hips to hers, just briefly, and she'd felt how wonderfully hard he was. That evidence of his arousal broke another shred of her control, and she reached around him to pull him against her again.

He tensed and tried to arch away, but that only made him feel better in her hands.

"Please, Cullen," she said, a tremble in her voice that she couldn't stop. "I need to feel you. Please."

He grunted in frustration and a little anger. "I won't last. I'm too far gone, and I want…"

"What do you want?" She kissed his neck once more, and then he was the one pressing against her, pushing her against the thin post of the bed with almost terrifying speed. "Tell me," she whispered.

He ground his hips against hers before lowering his head to pour his hot, panting breath into her ear. "Maker forgive me, I want to ruin you."

A low moan dragged itself from her lips, and he responded in kind before spinning her around and stripping away her remaining clothing for her to kick away. Just like in the boat, her back pressed against the hard muscle of his body, only now he was almost bare, only a thin layer of cloth between her and what he'd been taunting her with all night. Ever since she met him. Knight-Commander Cullen Rutherford, all hers.

As soon as she thought it, he brought one hand to her breast, teasing the nipple into full hardness between his fingers. The other dipped to caress her thigh, just as he had earlier. But this time he didn't stop for decorum. He played his fingers lightly across her skin until he dipped between her legs to feel how wet she was. When he breathed in sharply she knew she must be even more ready for him than she'd realized. A low ache built in her belly as he went back to explore once more. He touched her core, circling and pressing, and she arched and cried out his name.

"Again," he said darkly, and she complied as he slipped his finger inside of her. He smiled and kissed her earlobe as he worked her. "Beautiful."

Her legs weakened, and she held onto his hip behind her to steady herself. He shifted to place one leg between hers, his thigh thick and stable, but the intoxication of it was nothing compared to the way his cock rubbed against her. She tried to turn again, to feel him where she most wanted, but he held her in place easily. "Not yet," he said. "Do you think I could make you come, like this?"

"Yes." It was a near certainty if he didn't stop touching her, and she hissed as he found a new rhythm with both of his questing hands.

He kissed her neck at the join and nearly sent her through the ceiling when he used his teeth to hold her in place when she squirmed. After he seemed convinced she would hold still, he licked the spot tenderly. "Do you want to?"

"I want you. Please," she said helplessly. Truthfully. Cullen was playing her body to a fever-pitch, and she was desperate to have him. More than desperate. If he didn't take her, she might not last the night.

Any shame she felt at her pleading was erased by Cullen's growl of affirmation. "You'll have me. I'll bury myself inside of you, Cassandra." He rolled his hips to press his fingers more deeply into her, and she followed him eagerly.

"Yes. Oh yes. Now."

"Mmm," he said blissfully. "But you're going to come first. Will you do that for me?"

It took her a long, dizzy moment to realize he was really asking again, and despite her need she almost laughed again at how careful he was being. Instead she said in a low voice, "Yes. Anything you want, Cullen."

To her surprise, he was the one who laughed, rumbling and hot against her back. "That's my line." He sped up his pace, touching her breast more urgently, alternating his fingers inside of her with the thumb dancing above. She gave up trying to think or react and snaked her arms above her, winding them around his head and holding on as he drove her higher. When his voice came fast and urgent, calling her lovely, worshiping her, she twisted her head towards him to catch him in an artless, needy kiss that he returned eagerly. It wasn't elegant, and it wasn't skilled, but it was enough to send her over the edge, crying out his name once more.

When she came back to herself he was holding her tightly, and he turned her around to kiss her forehead with such loving care that she almost cried. As soon as her legs felt strong enough to hold her, she walked around the bed to lay herself back slowly, her eyes on his face. Watching him watching her. Closer to the bed the light was brighter, and she could finally see him clearly. The small shoots of moonlight from the window just reached where he stood, and his face was an odd blend of hunger and sadness.

"You're gorgeous," she said again, arching her back enticingly.

He hissed in a breath and said, "So are you."

His hands hooked beneath his smalls and drew them off in an easy motion, and she watched his cock spring free eagerly. It was hard and heavy and so very present that she bit her lip against her need. He smiled a little as she whimpered, another mix of pleasure and sadness, and drew his finger along his length. He was just as she'd imagined, all muscle and towering strength and power waiting to be the final piece of her.

"Do you want me?" he asked quietly.

She did. Maker knew she did, as she'd never wanted anyone before, but this question wasn't like the others. She fought against her overwhelming desire and kept her voice steady as she said, "What's wrong?"

Cullen didn't answer, just crawled on top of her, kissing his way up her body, tasting her sore breast softly before moving on until he found a tender place under her jaw that made her head tilt back into the pillows. She felt him brush against her entrance and she made a sound deep in her throat before he stopped. Her body was begging for him, but still he hadn't answered her question. "Cullen, what's wrong? Don't do this if you don't want it."

"I want it," he said, tracing a line up to her ear with his tongue. "You." He paused, breathing heavily. "And this is what I have to offer you."

A lonely, anguished whisper that broke her heart.

"No," she said as evenly as she could. His cock was so close to her, and she was so wet that he wouldn't need any help in taking her down that final path she craved, but that didn't matter if he did it out of fear that she wouldn't accept him any other way. She found his chin with her fingers and turned it to her, until his eyes were even with hers. "You offer everything. I have never met your equal."

Hope sprang around his uncertainty, so she rubbed his shoulder soothingly with her free hand and continued. "You are kind and generous. You are thoughtful and warm, and a friend that could rival Leliana when it came to my comfort. I've never felt so quick a connection with another person. I like you so much that I would have been glad for Leliana had she been with you, even as I wanted you only for myself," she said ruefully, and that made him smile and kiss her once more.

When he reached down to take himself in hand and guide him to her, she didn't stop talking. This was her Chant for him. The love that was bursting inside of her that would burn itself into beautiful ash. "You are a man of intelligence. Solid. Dependable. I would never need doubt you. You look at me as though I am better than I am. You are in my dreams, and you're beautiful in them. And you are brave. And -" She broke off with a low cry as he entered her, pressing her back into the softness of the bed. They held there, waiting, breaths in easy harmony. It was a perfect moment, fragile and soft, weaving inexorably between them both.

Cullen reached up to touch her cheek in a gentle caress, dragging his thumb to her lower lip where she kissed it. They stared at each other's face, lost in wonder, until the tension reached unbearable heights and he began to move.

He groaned her name, once, as he slid over her in quickening rhythm. When she wrapped her legs around his back to give him a better angle, he lost all semblance of control and grace and pounded inside of her with sheer power.

That pressure was back in her belly, the need to explode, and her words were the key to finding that peak once more. "Cullen, you… you overwhelm me. Your smile and your consideration and the way you make me want…"

"I want you to want only me," he said between breaths. "Please. Stay with me."

"I will," she promised, recklessly, foolishly. "Oh Cullen, always." So dangerous, but it was what he needed, and what she needed as well. She reached above her head in joy and felt herself tightening like a string about to snap. But she forced her eyes open, fighting against it to watch his face, twisted and anxious but still the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen.

And then his expression relaxed into a sweet surprise, and he looked so young and peaceful as he cried her name once more. The feeling of him emptying in her, the way his hips stuttered and jerked as he found completion, took her over the edge for the second time. With her name echoing on the stone, she finally closed her eyes and submitted to the pleasure he gave her.

The room was dark and silent, like a grave. As soon as Cassandra had found her breath, she'd blown out her candle and rolled back to stare at the invisible ceiling. She could hear him breathing next to her, uneven and awake. She should say something, do something, to ease them through this moment, but she was too caught up in cursing herself and her lack of control. Her rational mind was coming back from that place in the sky where Cullen had taken her, and she couldn't believe she'd been so foolish.

She knew better than to promise her loyalty to a man. No matter how handsome he was, how loving, how absolutely incandescent she felt in his arms. Love that lingered too long ended in only two ways, heartbreak or destruction, and neither was what she wanted. Neither was what they deserved. Small hurts only, the first parting of a love affair. That was what she allowed herself.

This was something altogether different.

Before she could draw breath to pass off her promise as the haze of arousal, the bed shifted underneath her as Cullen sat up. The moonlight was too weak to see much, but his outline was defeated. And she only saw his back.

"Cullen, wait," she said, panicked. What if he left now? They might never speak honestly again. Some things were easier to say in the dark.

He turned slightly, the lines of his profile blurred in the darkness. "I'm sorry I made you do that."

Cassandra frowned at his assumption she could be forced to do anything against her will. Yes, she'd been unwise, but she'd been unwise entirely on her own merits. "I was not made to do anything. I desired it all."

"Yes, I know. You told me you did. At the restaurant. And I -" He broke off and cleared his throat. "There's no code in the Templar rules of chivalry regarding asking a woman to soothe your ego through sexual coercion, but I imagine it would be forbidden. My only defense is that I didn't intend to do it, and that's poor defense indeed."

Cullen sighed, and it was a bitter wind in the cavern of her room. "I regret it. This was beautiful. You are as well, more than anything. But I seem to have a knack for twisting beautiful things into something terrible. I don't blame you for your anger. If you need to report me, I understand."

She sat up as well, totally bewildered. "I'm not angry. Not with you," she said. "Do you think I praised you because you demanded it of me?"

His face swung away again, which was confirmation enough.

"I did not," she said. Her heart ached that he thought so poorly of himself, and that her silence may have made it worse. "All of what I said is true, and more. Cullen, I don't lie. If those were the things you needed to know to be comfortable, I am glad that you know them. Even if this is over, they are all still true. Don't doubt your appeal. Your goodness." She picked at the sheets with a finger. "I cannot speak for all. But Leliana agrees with my assessment of you."

"You've talked to her about me?" he asked, surprise evident in his voice.

She laughed lightly. "Of course I have. First, Leliana would not have allowed me to remain silent, but you have also been at the front of my thoughts since we arrived," she said. "Besides, you spoke to her of me, did you not?"

"That's different," he muttered. "Someone like you will always be at the center of things."

"I can assure you I have never been," she said. "And I'm very flattered you think I should be." She scooted closer to him and rubbed his skin with her fingers. "Cullen, I don't know who or what has made you feel as though the world should ignore your merits, but I disagree with it entirely. And I do not need to be full of wine or desire to see it. Or tell you of it. You are wonderful."

He didn't answer, but his tension eased slightly. "You said you weren't angry with me. Who are you angry with?"

She looked for words that would be truth without pain. This was not the time to remind them both that this would fade away too soon. "Myself. For not being more careful," she said. He made a noise, but she shushed him. "And I am afraid. My fear often manifests as anger."

He swung around to face her in the gloom. "You? Afraid?" He shook his head. "I can't imagine it. You're so perfectly composed."

"I am not," she said irritably. Maybe Princess Pentaghast was perfectly composed. Cassandra would never be.

"Well, you don't need to be afraid of me," he said slowly. His fingers reached out and found the scar that always lived on her cheek, tracing it unerringly. She wondered if he could see better than she could in the dark. She wondered, if he couldn't, if he'd truly memorized her face so quickly. She wondered why that should thrill her instead of terrify her. He stopped and dropped his hand. "I won't hurt you. I could never."

But I will hurt you, she thought wildly. And it was true, and the fear of it was so strong she bit her lip against the cry. Of all of the times for her emotional control to desert her, this was by far the most inconvenient.

Fortunately he couldn't see her face, and he pushed himself up, away from the bed without hesitation.

"You're going?" she asked, and she winced at the vulnerable timbre of her voice. She sounded like a virgin girl worrying over the regard of her new lover, not the world-wise woman she was.

Cullen's voice was muffled from searching for his clothing as he said, "Yes. I shouldn't sleep here, not with my troops, well, on alert. And I need to check in on the mage's wing. I haven't had a chance yet today."

"I understand." She put the cool formality of the Right Hand back in her voice, to reassure him that she wasn't mooning over him. But perhaps it was too much disinterest. He straightened and came back to the bed.

His hand brushed over her hair, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead, then her mouth. "Cassandra. I thought you would want me to leave. Do you need me to stay?"

Another question. This time one that was half-truth, half-lie. He would stay, if she asked it, because he was a kind man, but he wanted to be gone. Perversely, the knowledge centered her again. No, she did not need him. She liked him. She was having an affair with him. That was their relationship. And now it seemed he'd no more meant his growled words than she had, once the desire had worn off. "No. You have your duties," she said, and her voice was her own again. "I just like being with you."

He kissed her once more. "I like being with you, too," he said. "But I'll admit I'm glad you don't need me tonight. I think I've embarrassed myself enough. Maker only knows what emotional outburst I'll have next." He pulled his shirt on and smiled down at her, teeth flashing white against the blackness. "And if I don't leave now, there is nothing in this world that will keep me from wanting you again. So thank you for the best evening I've had since I came to this place, despite the rough spots, and for being so understanding."

"No, thank you," she said, uncurling and rising to her knees. Cullen stopped smiling and breathed in as she stretched towards him to graze his cheek. "It is easy to be understanding with a man who has been such a charming and wonderful companion."

"I don't know how wonderful I am," he said, shaking his head and backing towards the door with a hurried step, "but I want to be, for you."