Isabela would never love the man who was her husband. Her mother had practically given her away like a common goat to be bought and sold whenever its owner wished. He took her away from her native Rivain, probably out of fear that she might run, and presented her as a trophy to his fellow Antivan merchants.

Oh, how Isabela longed to steal that greasy bastard's ship he took so much pride in and build a new life for herself. She'd learn the art of the blade as well as the more natural, feminine art of seduction. To the Void with Emilio!

She wasn't the praying sort by any means, but what happened on that fateful night did indeed answer her unspoken prayers. Isabela's dear husband was off at sea again, probably too drunk to remember her, screwing some whore by now. Women liked to throw themselves at men who had money, even married men. Not that she cared. It was a loveless marriage, after all, but it was unfair that she got none of the action.

Suddenly a crash alerted her from somewhere in that huge house. Isabela stifled a scream and slipping out of bed as quietly as she could manage before retrieving a knife from under her pillow. She began keeping it there after the first time Emilio took advantage of her. He never hurt her, but no one made Isabela do anything or anyone she didn't want to.

It didn't take long to find the source of the crash. A window had been broken. Where were the guards? Surely he wouldn't leave his precious wife alone...

"Don't move," a velvety voice hissed in her ear. Isabela wanted to scream, but the sound was already dead, as she soon would be. She froze. "Now drop the weapon. I doubt a pretty thing like you knows how to use it anyway." The dagger fell from her shaking hand, clattering to the floor with a flash of moonlit silver. The mysterious man picked it up and twirled it in his fingers.

"Who are you?" Isabela asked, her voice small and fearful. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same questions, no?" His eyes twinkled. "See, no one is supposed to be here. I was instructed to kill my target and take anything shiny as proof of a job well done."

"This is my husband's house."

"Ah..." He frowned. "Well then, my condolences."

"Emilio is...dead?" Isabela was in shock. How many times had she wished for this? She had assumed the sea would claim him but never an assassin's blade. "You...killed him?"

"Yes...I am sorry for your loss, again." The man looked extremely uncomfortable. "He did not seem particularly pleasant, but...I had nothing against him personally. It's a job, that's all." He stepped into the light so she could clearly see the dark tattoos against his already dark skin, which emphasized his fine elven features. "I am Zevran Arainai of the Antivan Crows, at your service."

The widow stared at her husband's killer and broke into a smile. She was free at last. The ship was rightfully hers now. This could be her chance.

But Isabela felt she should properly express her gratitude to this man first. So she walked forward, swaying her hips in that way that used to result in Emilio thinking he could lay his filthy hands on her. Then she grabbed Zevran by the collar and kissed him, hard.

"My dear," the assassin breathed, words muffled against her mouth. "I feel this might be...in poor taste so soon after your husband's passing...Are you certain this is what you want?"

Isabela pulled away and looked directly into his eyes, keeping him pinned against the Orlesian silk rug with her body.

"Do you have any idea how long it has been since someone has asked me that?" she replied calmly.

"I take it your marriage was not a happy one?"

"Happy?" Isabela laughed bitterly. "Sweetie, I haven't been happy for a very long time."

"Well..." Zevran smirked, a devious look in his eye. "A beautiful woman such as yourself should not be forced to suffer a moment more."

He took her places she'd only dreamed of, entirely new levels of pleasure. Never had she imagined it could be like this. Her nostrils filled with his scent, and the slightest salty undertones of blood. In that moment she was utterly at his mercy. Logic kicked in and she realized she was fucking a murderer. He could murder her, too. But then her toes curled; all thought was lost to ecstasy. If she died now, she would die a happy woman.

"What are you going to do now?" Zevran asked once they both lay sated, hearts pounding in unison as they came down from the rush of their exertions.

"I haven't really thought about it," Isabela admitted. "I know I'll take the ship. Maybe rename her something a bit more...sultry. Then, well, go where the wind carries me I suppose."

"Hmm..."

"What?" She rolled onto her side in order to face him. "What are thinking?"

"When I was a child," Zevran began. "I always wanted to be a pirate, especially after the Crows bought me. I believed freedom meant doing whatever you liked and bowing to no master."

"What are you saying?"

"It's simple, my saucy little minx," he purred. "I think you would make an excellent pirate."

Isabela laughed. "Surely you're joking!"

"Why not? I can picture you on the sea, ordering your crew around. Does it not sound even a little tempting?"

"Well..." It rather did, actually.

"Besides, what better life is there for you here?"

He had a point.

In everything that followed, it never crossed Isabela's mind that Zevran may be trying to live vicariously through her.

Not that she minded.