A/N: Happy Valentine's Day, here's my gift to you ;-)
Unfortunately, it turned out that finding a place to stay in Maunesse during Lunamass wasn't the simple task Ozai had hoped. The Merry Weaver inn was beyond capacity due to the festival, as was The Brass Centipede. They had inquired further at two separate taverns that offered rooms for travelers, and even at a house they passed, ivy crawling over its white stone-front, with a sign in its window that read Room for rent, ask for Marguerite. Everywhere they looked, they were met with the same two words.
No vacancy.
"I understand, monsieur, but we do not have so much as one room left available, much less two. We are simply chock full due to the festival."
The keeper of Griffon's Claw tavern wiped a mug clean as she spoke in her flowery Arclesian accent. A large woman, nearly as wide as she was tall, breasts the size of melons bursting the seams of her bodice.
"Is there anywhere in this town that does have vacancy?" Ozai growled, placing both fists on the wooden bar and leaning toward her.
Utterly unruffled by the gesture, she muttered, "I wouldn't know for certain, monsieur."
A pale wiry man with dark receding hair thudded down a stairway along the wall, holding a bucket and swiping his shirtsleeve across his forehead with a sour face. The woman glanced over at him and the man's grimace spread as he nodded.
Scratching off their last option with a sigh, Ozai turned to leave, unsure now where they would go when the woman called after them.
"Wait. It so happens there is one room, of sorts, that's just come available, if you're willing to take it."
Ozai turned back, tentative.
"Poor sod that rented it overdosed and was carted off not an hour ago. Vico's taken care of most of the clean-up, but I can't say we've had time to give it a proper scrubbing, with all this commotion keeping us on our toes."
He was fairly certain he didn't like the sound of that. But he was equally loathe to turn down the offer, considering the seemingly impossible odds of finding another place with a roof to spend the night.
A tankard went flying and Ozai narrowly dodged it as it hurtled into the wall with a clatter. Raucous shouts erupted, breaking into a drunken chorus of song. He glowered at the wasted bunch of halfwits, the woman's voice pulling his attention back.
"I could offer you the room at half rate if you're interested."
His mouth twisted. If they walked away now, they might end up sleeping on the streets, surrounded by this manner of racket and stumbling drunks.
"Take it or leave it, monsieur, I've no time for your dillydalling."
"We'll take it," he grumbled.
They followed her up the creaky narrow staircase to a door at the very top step. "It's not much more than an attic really," she wheezed, winded from the short climb up ten stairs.
The woman unlocked the door and pushed it open. A tinge of musty air hit Ozai in the face as they followed the woman into the room. The aged wood floor was stained dark in large blotches, still damp where it had been cleaned, grooves between the boards lined with years worth of dust and grime.
"Vico cleaned up the vomit, and the needles and bottles. He said the mullered bloke never actually made it to the bed but Vico stripped it anyway, so those linens are nice and fresh."
Ozai's attention snapped like a thunderbolt at the words, and in an instant the world narrowed down to that one cursed piece of furniture.
The bed. Singular.
Entering the room, he'd been too preoccupied with the state of it to take notice. The air drew tight and he could feel Katara's gaze skim him from the corner of her eye. He decisively avoided it.
"Wish I could offer you something better but… tis the season. Merry Lunamass."
.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.
The woman closed the door behind her. Heavy steps thudded down the stairs, leaving the two of them standing there, alone, in the strained limbo of awkwardness.
Muffled ruckus carried through the floorboards below, punctuating the silence. Katara ran a hand up her forearm gingerly, staring down at a stain sunk into the dirty wood floor. Truth be told, she'd expected the room to look a lot worse but they had done a decent job of cleaning whatever mess has transpired before.
A heavy sigh cut through the tension as Ozai stepped slowly around the room. Katara painstakingly avoided looking at the bed, or at him, memories of that distant night in the cabin rushing back like a burst dam. So much had happened in those long two weeks since. So much had changed. She had wanted to crawl out of her skin that night when she'd realized they would be sharing a bed.
Why did it now feel so sinfully alluring?
She knew what it meant, how she felt about him. But so far, she had refused to give it a name. Katara wondered now how much longer that could hold.
As he wandered toward the far wall, she meekly shook her hair loose from the low bun and removed the brooch, setting it quietly atop a pitted wood side table, and clasped her arm. In a furtive glimpse, she found him making toward a cot she hadn't noticed before, shoved into the corner. Some small, unthinkable part of her deflated slightly. Seemed they wouldn't have to share the bed after all.
Without a word, Ozai came to stand before it, inspecting it as he stripped off his chaofu. Katara's face heated in a rush. She watched him hesitate, looking for a place to toss it. Certainly not on the floor. Turning, his eyes inadvertently met hers. They both looked quickly away as he hung it over a vacant curtain holdback on the wall.
Ozai looked back to the cot, frowning. Katara couldn't help it. She stole a glimpse at his naked torso, so firm and defined it appeared to have been cast in alabaster. Her eyes trailed lower, where the solid skin merged into a V at his hips. The sight was so tantalizing – and intimate – that she felt her stomach tighten pleasurably.
The desire caught her off guard and she blinked, quickly forced her eyes away. It was just the wine, she told herself unconvincingly. Definitely just the wine.
.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.
Ozai stripped off the satiny garment, rolling his shoulders at the freedom. The fabric was smooth, but rigid and uncomfortable, and if he was going to spend the night on a narrow, worn out cot then dammit he was going to be comfortable. As he looked for somewhere passably clean to put it, his eyes snagged on Katara's and his insides tensed at the way he had caught her looking at him. Should have kept it on, he realized. Cursing, he spotted a curtain holdback and hung the silk there.
Ozai frowned down at the cot, studying it with contempt. Its frame was arguably one dust mote away from crumbling. Testing it with one hand, it groaned and cracked with his weight, the wood splintering, and he heaved a sigh. Not promising. He turned again, this time making sure to keep his eyes safely averted, and studied the floor for a long moment, kneading his brow.
The idea of sleeping on this floor was repulsive at best. He didn't dare think about what manner of filth he might be lying down upon. But he was not about to share the bed with this girl. Granted, he had before, back when things were simpler. Safer.
Things were neither simple nor safe when it came to her anymore, certainly not after tonight. That foolish slip in judgment. He knew how Katara felt for him, at least to some extent, though he still couldn't fathom why. And loathe as he was to admit it, Ozai couldn't deny the way she got under his skin. The way she stirred some ineffable thing deep inside him.
And after what had very nearly happened last night in that alley in Tiankong… Granted they had been under the influence of a strong aphrodisiac, and tonight their heads were only mildly buzzing with wine. But he doubted either of them would so quickly forget.
No, the floor was not an agreeable option. But it was by far the better of the two.
Without a word or second glance, he sunk down, about to lie back.
"What are you doing?!" Katara cried out. Ozai could practically feel the static as her hair stood on end, but he didn't look at her.
"The cot is broken."
"Well, you can't sleep down there! Who knows what diseases you could wake up with."
Ozai hesitated, his jaw tight. He turned to her slow, the lurid question in the arch of a single dark brow.
"Where would you have me sleep then?"
In a blink, her eyes darted first to the bed then down to her feet, color flooding her face, heat sparking in his gut as she looked up at him again. The moment hung there, suspended. Everything they weren't saying screaming above the silence, brewing like a thick, heavy cloud in the air.
In the back of his mind, came a whispered warning. Bad idea.
"It's just one night… Right?" she ventured timidly, parroting the words he'd spoken an eternity ago in that cabin. And there on his lips, despite himself, he felt the whisper of a smirk. The barest softening of his expression.
Ozai stared and Katara stared back, letting the silence ask their questions for them. Neither daring an answer in return. It stretched on until, finally, against all the cautioning of his better judgment, Ozai stood up.
He stepped toward the bed and in a handful of slow strides he was looming before her. Like a startled gazelle-rabbit, Katara stood frozen in place, as though she hadn't imagined he might actually consider it. He waited.
"Aren't you going to lie down?" he asked, his voice low with the scandal of it, as she stood there. Face burning, she blinked and bashfully crawled back onto the bed, not entirely managing to break his gaze until she reached the other side and slipped beneath the sheets.
Ozai faltered.
Now that she was in it, the bed seemed to have shrunk, several sizes. He watched her turn onto her side to face the other direction, her fine satin dress betraying every curve of her willowy body. Her breasts, her waist, her hips.
He balled his fists and exhaled tight.
Fuck.
.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.
Seconds ticked by in agonizing measure as she waited for the whisper of movement, for the rustle of sheets.
All she heard was a guttural sigh. Had he changed his mind?
"Aren't you going to lie down?"
Those words and his low, sultry voice echoed, still sending sparks skittering through her stomach, along with a budding trepidation.
It was no secret things had been changing between them. For one, their relationship had shifted almost subtly from one of captor-captive to an odd alliance of sorts to… she wasn't sure what to call this. But she did know that tonight felt different.
Sitting closer than necessary, hearts and heads light with wine, arms a whisper away from touching. The hypnotic glow of a thousand lanterns all around as they'd gazed over a land so unbelievable in its beauty it could have been ripped from a fairytale book. The press of his lips on her hand…
What was she thinking? Maybe this wasn't such a good–
The light was snuffed out and her breath caught. Dim light still filtered into the room through the small attic window, through the chink of space beneath the door. She waited.
And finally, the sheets pulled back.
Butterflies took wing in her belly as the mattress sank under his added weight. Katara could feel his chest come perilously close to touching her back as he slid in next to her, and suddenly her heart was fluttering like a trapped butterfly in her throat.
His bare chest.
Ozai's body heat permeated the bed almost instantly, prickling over her skin and making her shiver. Her senses filled with the musk and spice of him, the memory flooding back like a riptide of their previous night in that alley. Her back cool against the stone wall, Ozai's tall forbidding frame as he trapped her there. The wanting. The almost tasting.
Oh, La and Tui and all the spirits…
It was fine. This was fine. She would just keep facing the wall. As long as she wasn't facing him and didn't turn over, everything would be just–
"I think we should meet Brondolf tomorrow."
The words were hushed but they pierced her thoughts like a knife. On instinct she turned over, registering her mistake a moment too late.
Ozai's gaze pinned her, his chest rising in a sharp intake of breath. The scant inches between their bodies grew so hot Katara expected it to spark and steam. This close, he took up the world, his broad frame filling her field of vision.
It took a moment for her to find her voice.
"You trust him?" she whispered.
"No," came his soft reply. "But we're not left with much choice."
"Yes we are. We can choose not meet him, find the Sunstone on our own."
"And risk wandering aimlessly forever. What are the odds someone else will miraculously turn up who knows where it is and is willing to help?"
His voice was like a silk thread, weaving through her chest and belly, warm and smooth. She fought to gain control of her senses.
"What if he's lying?" she barely managed. "We don't know if he really intends to lead us to it or if he even knows where it is."
"Until a better option comes along, it's a risk we'll have to take."
The soft conversation as they lied there, precariously close, felt intimate and made heat pool in her belly. Without meaning to, she imagined her hands splayed against his chest, what it might feel like to stroke her fingertips down the sculpted cleft between his hard pectorals, the silvery flesh of the scar she'd left there, down to that V-shaped borderline between his hips. To trace a path across his body…
A sobering jolt of adrenaline wrenched her from her reverie. There were several different ways she imagined that could end tonight, few to none of them good. Desperately, she went down her trusty list of nopes again. Remember who he is.
Swallowing, Katara dared to look back up at him, struggling to keep her eyes from straying to his lips. A similar war seemed to burn in his eyes. A more intense version of the look she had glimpsed there earlier, beneath the lanterns. It stoked the fire in her belly and she tried to stamp it out.
Tried and failed.
Maybe it was the influence of the wine she'd drunk that emboldened her. Or the way his eyes were tracking over her face now. Or maybe it was both. But daringly, Katara let her gaze slide to his lips after all.
Even in the muted light, she was close enough to see the soft, tiny creases there, stained from the wine. She could hear the faint exhale as his lips parted beneath her stare, feel the static charge pervading the air. Katara's blood was thumping in fits and starts.
This was dangerous. Like playing with an open flame. Mesmerizing, thrilling. One wrong move, lose control, and she might burn.
Ozai's eyes flicked down too, then, and held there. Her heart lurched, her soul on fire with a hope too scandalous to admit as he leaned closer.
Or at least, that was what she'd thought. Instead, making to turn over, he paused with lowered brows, one muscular arm propping him up. Despite the husky, intoxicating whisper of his voice, his gaze speared her like molten iron.
"Goodnight, Katara."
The words were a wall shoved between them, the tension in his tone leaving no room to doubt that he'd felt it too, that magnetic charge heavy in the gap between them, eyes drawn to lips. That he'd sensed the illicit thoughts written all over her face.
A stab of horror sent her crashing back to reality. Oh gods, he knows. There was no room to doubt it now.
She felt utterly paralyzed as Ozai turned his back to her in response, so many feelings churning at once she could hardly grasp any of them. Mortified. Alight. Enthralled. Confused. The memory of his lips on her hand as she stared now at his back, the tight rise and fall of his breaths. She curled her arms around her middle, fingernails digging into her skin for being so stupid, and tried to fall asleep.
The night sky was black as pitch, the land reduced to a wash of shadows. Tonight was a new moon, which meant no moon, which meant no light to betray their passage behind the caravan as they tracked it from the cagrium sinkhole back to a rebel encampment.
That was where the three of them stood now, Azek, Emiko, and Nori, at the foot of a tall hill, watching the caravan jostle up the side to where the camp was nestled inside a crater at the very top. The location was oddly more conspicuous than expected. Ideal for spotting any incoming threats, of course – case in point – but such a location also meant that anyone coming or going would be doing so in plain sight, and the way the caravan carted so openly up the hill now seemed to suggest the rebels weren't terribly concerned about such a risk. Which further suggested they were gaining territory, just as they feared, along with strength.
In the shadows they spoke, hissing breaths and harsh whispers, disputing about what to do now. The original plan had been to sneak in and steal around, try to gather intelligence that way. But where the camp was situated left little chance for them to sneak in without getting caught, and even if they somehow did manage it, Azek could see countless deeper black shapes in the darkness, shifting and moving about within the crater. The place was crawling with activity, even at this time of night.
A wind ushered a dark wall of clouds across the sky, until it seemed even the stars had burned out. Azek shifted on his feet.
"Sky looks so black, like night swallowed up all the moon and stars."
"How poetic," jibed Emiko. "Never would've pegged you for a poet, Azek."
He turned to her with a hard look. "Oh, but I am one. Want to hear a haiku?"
"Sure." Her tone was deliberately flippant and his mouth pinched.
"Emiko, you're cracked. Going to get us all killed. You crazy ass bitch."
She actually had the nerve to smile. "Not bad. Three lines, five-seven-five. Though I think you're supposed to end it on a note of wisdom, aren't you?"
"Yeah, the wisdom that you're gonna get us fucking killed."
"So dramatic," she taunted. "Honestly, did you ever think of taking to the stage?"
Azek scowled. "What is wrong with you?"
"I'm a bad dancer and I don't floss, what's wrong with you?"
"Nori, talk to her," he insisted, turning to the buxom girl.
She raised her brow softly. "It is a crazy plan, Em."
"You're taking chastity belt's side, really?"
"For the last time, I am not a prude," he spat. "Just… private, okay? I know that's a foreign word for you, it means being reserved, choosy with whom you share yourself–"
"I know what private means."
"I'm not taking anyone's side," Nori cut in, steering the conversion back. "But, if we really go through with this… If we just walk up there and claim to be defectors, and they don't believe us, they'll either take us prisoner and use us for ransom, best case, or kill us. There's no way of knowing for sure if we'd have a way to escape or send word of what we find, and we won't be much use to Fire Lord Zuko if we're M.I.A., or worse."
Emiko sighed, smoothing the girl's deep brown hair. "Nori, my level-headed vixen."
"Someone's gotta keep you tethered."
"Mmm, like to the bedposts?"
"Fucks sake, would you two cut it out."
"Oh, my blushing buttcheeks!" Emiko gasped in falsetto, a hand flying to her chest. "Did the lesbians just show affection?"
"That's not–" Azek scowled and shook his head. "Whatever, can we just be serious again for one second? This is reckless, Emiko. Not everything needs to be a challenge. At this rate, we might as well just resort to sneaking around."
"In any other scenario, sure. But in this case, we'll never get close enough to the intel we need, and you know it. The place is packed, and who know how many mutants they have lurking about. If we're caught sneaking, we're as good as dead anyway. But, infiltrate them on the pretense that we switched sides, and we'll be front and center of it all. We can keep our bending on the down low, make us less of a threat – no offense, Azek, your sword is very scary," she jabbed, and he just shook his head. "They won't pay us much attention. Between the three of us, I'm banking on finding some way to cut and run when our job is done." She paused with a playful tip of her head. "Look at that, I'm a poet too."
She smirked as the warm wind picked up, her cropped fringe flurrying in black ribbons over her face. Azek crossed his arms and glanced to Nori, who shrugged gently.
"She does have a point."
He heaved a sigh.
"If this goes south and I end up dead, I swear I'm gonna haunt you till what's left of your sanity snap's like a twig."
"I'll hold you to that," she quipped. Azek could only blink hard.
"I hate you," he grumbled and she leaned into him playfully.
"You love me. Now, if there are no further objections…" Emiko puffed her chest with a deep breath as Nori tightened her ponytail. "Let's do this."
The grassy hill was one of many in the region, like the pillows of the land, lying friendly enough in the daylight. But tonight, the hillside looked darkly ominous, the path up lost to blackness. Azek's foot turned over a volcanic rock and he stumbled, caught himself on his hands, brushing off the damp earth as they kept climbing.
To turn back now really wasn't a choice, he knew, not when the alternative was returning to the capitol with barely half of what they were sent for. With the nation teetering on the edge of collapse, so much was riding on them and whatever intelligence they could steal. He plucked up his courage and kept going.
At last, they reached the edge of the crater without incident. Crouching low along the border, they paused to survey the encampment. The caravan was still being unloaded, huge, heavy slabs of cagrium ore being hauled off to some unseen point. A fire crackled in the center of the crater, small so as not to draw unwanted attention, casting long shadows as a multitude of rebels and guards moved about.
It wasn't hard to tell the guards from the rest of the them. The resistance had adopted an insignia, a rising phoenix breathing fire and surrounded by flames, emblazoned on the chest plates of their armor.
"All right, on three," breathed Emiko. "Look confident and walk like you have a right to be here."
On her count, they lowered themselves down the edge and into the crater, keeping to the shadows behind periphery tents as they crept inward toward the hub. It had to look like they had been here for a bit, lost puppies looking for authority.
They paused to glance around the edge of a tent when a voice thundered behind them.
"What do you think you're doing? Stop right there!"
Spinning around, the three of them came face to face with four rebel guards, the one in front slipping quickly into bending stance as the other three followed.
"Woah, wait!" Azek shouted, stumbling back and holding up both bands. "We're on your side."
"We're defectors, from the capitol," piped Emiko quickly.
The guard in front studied them for several moments before straightening again, exchanging long, skeptical glances with his comrades.
"Didn't see you come in. How did you find us?"
Emiko didn't miss a beat. "Underground communication. We've been plotting our move for a while."
"We've come to realize what the resistance has seen all along," Nori spoke in her inspired way. "That Fire Lord Zuko is driving our nation to ruin, undoing so much of the greatness his forefathers fought to achieve. And we want to join you. We're not benders, but we can still help."
The first guard's eyes narrowed, sliding slow from one to the other, landing on Azek for a beat too long. He swallowed tight and forced himself to hold his gaze steady.
"Why didn't you report to base first like all the others?"
All three of them blinked.
"We didn't realize that was protocol," Azek lied with a calm he didn't feel. "Been biding our time for a chance to flee undetected and when it arose, we took it."
The guard chewed his lip for a while, studying them. "Didn't realize it was protocol? I thought you had underground communication."
At that, Azek could feel the tensions rise, like a thread pulling the three of them tight. The guard stroked his chin.
"You could be telling the truth," he said with a shrug. "Or you could be Fire Lord moles. Hmm… If only there was some way to be sure."
His eyes flicked to another guard and he gave a subtle nod. All at once, Emiko half gasped, half screamed as her body went rigid. Her sable eyes bulged, veins distended. Tiny purple flecks were dotting on her milky skin, strangled sounds gurgling in her throat.
"Emiko!" screamed Nori.
"It's amazing what Taint can do to an earthbender," the guard drawled. "Tan Lin can separate all the iron in someone's blood, send it bursting out of the body with force."
Nori's eyes were wide, wild. "Please, we're defectors! You're going to kill her!"
The purple dots were blooming into dark welts, Emiko's bloodshot eyes threatening to burst out of her head. In a rush of panic, Azek's hand flew to his blade just as Nori let out a splitting, primal shriek.
"Stop it!"
A massive wedge of earth cut up from the ground, tearing through the air and into Tan Lin's chest, ribs crunching as he was thrown several feet back with a sickening crack of his head. Emiko dropped to the ground.
The guard looked over his shoulder, surveying his lifeless comrade coolly before turning back. He cocked his head. "Well, would you look at that. Not benders, huh?"
"Em!" Nori dropped to her knees by the girl, scooping her into her arms. "Emi, are you okay?"
"Nori…" she slurred, her head lolling. "You beautiful idiot."
The guard's sneer dissolved to a dark scowl as he turned on Azek. "And you're not defectors either. I remember you. The Fire Lord's scout, if memory serves, on that day our siege was sabotaged by that piece of shit Matsu, may he rot in hell."
Azek cursed inwardly, his innards churning cold and sluggish.
"Lock them up," he barked.
The two other guards wrenched the girls apart, hauling Emiko's limp body off the ground as earth manacles encased Azek's wrists. By a fistful of hair, Nori was yanked to her feet, wrists clasped behind her, crying out as a vile grin split the guard's face.
"But take this one to the testing site. We're gonna have a little fun."
Ozai dreamed
He stood on a pier, Ursa at his side. Above, a sky as grey as the moment he knew their love was dead. Water like a mirror below his feet, horizon to horizon beneath a leaden sky.
A memory. Ursa's hand loose in his. Cold, emotionless.
She was beautiful.
She was terrible.
Her eyes black as night, skin pale as the moon. A shadow crept around her waist, an arm, but not his. She turned to him and smiled. But her grin was too wide, too sharp, as the arm enfolded her.
Beside him, another shadow.
His father. Hunchbacked, spine jutting beneath a thin film of skin. One skeletal arm reaching out as though in embrace.
No. This wasn't right.
Like a scene reflected in a broken mirror. The image suddenly contorted and out of shape.
Azulon wasn't part of it.
He wasn't supposed to be there.
That icy, skeletal hand drove hard into his back. And then Ozai was falling
falling
Hungry black waters parting like a maw, snapping shut again, swallowing him. Ozai reaching toward the surface. His father smiling. Ursa watching.
Cold, emotionless.
He was sinking like a stone, down
down
Darkness engulfing. No more breath in his lungs, no more life in his veins. Nothing left.
Just the cold, smothering embrace of death…
…Ozai dragged in a breath, relief filling his lungs, rushing out again as the tension softened. Another dream.
The cool sweep of the veil between worlds tugged at his consciousness, but he had learned to lean away from it and kept his eyes closed, grasping for any remnants of sleep. For a moment, he couldn't remember where he was. There was a warm stir of movement against him. Wisps of something soft and silky brushing his face. He cracked his eyes to a sea of chocolate brown…
His eyes snapped open.
Katara was lying a hairsbreadth from his chest, her back turned to him, rising in the slow, gentle rhythm of sleep. Tousled locks of her hair spilled over her pillow, past her little slice of the bed, onto Ozai's bare skin. Bare skin that felt suddenly on fire. His first instinct was to shove away from her, but he realized in renewed alarm that one of his arms had somehow found its way over her to rest in the curve of her waist, trapped beneath one of her arms. A fiery prickle raised the hair on his neck.
BAD. IDEA.
The warning he had ignored hissed its rebuke now, taunting him. He should have listened.
Steeling himself with a breath, Ozai tried as quietly as he could to remove his arm without waking her. He had scarcely budged when Katara stirred against him, groaning out a husky sound that sent a torturous jolt of heat down his center. Ozai balled his fists against it, squeezing his eyes shut with gritted teeth.
Not good.
His throat felt dry and he tried to swallow. He sent up a silent, desperate prayer that she would stay asleep long enough for him to distance himself without her noticing. With a clenched jaw, he tried again. His arm was halfway out beneath hers, dragging over the smooth curve of her waist, when she breathed a dreadfully erotic sigh and rolled over, straight into him. One of her hands curled softly against his chest, and suddenly there was very little room to think of anything else but her body pressed against his, and the smell of her, and the way she had been looking at him last night in the dark, how unspeakably hard it had been to turn away, and what all of this might mean.
A slight tickle of her breath swept his chest, escaping from those tormenting lips in a soft groan and, fuckfuckfuck, he pressed it back into the growing pool of things he shouldn't feel. He needed to get away from her now.
The arm that had trapped his had fallen loose against him and as quickly as he could, Ozai peeled himself away from her and sat up on the edge of the bed, putting his back to her just as she began to stir in the corner of his vision. He raked a hand through his hair and swore softly.
"What time is it?" she slurred. He didn't turn to her, his skin still tingling where her breath had stroked it.
"It's morning." That much was true, judging from the pale grey light trickling in through the window.
"Sun's not even up yet," Katara moaned into the pillow, burrowing deeper into the sea of blankets. "The room's chilly and the sheets are warm, I'm staying in bed." Her voice was still husky with sleep as she murmured, "You should too."
His posture stiffened suddenly as he glared at the floor. "I'm awake," he retorted.
Not good at all.
Ozai needed to push her away, poison whatever feelings she was harboring for him once and for all. Cull this back before the roots could deepen and grow into something stronger, larger, out of his control. A war was looming inside him, feelings she somehow tapped into that threatened to capsize him the moment he let his guard slip. Ozai didn't want those feelings for anyone, least of all for this Water Tribe girl. Feelings weakened you, carved pieces out of you. They would only get in the way and muddy the waters.
But his stomach filled with ice as all at once he realized…
He couldn't push her away. If he did, Ozai risked losing everything he had worked so hard to achieve. Katara had finally agreed to help him. Their deal was fragile at best, this plan ever one hiccup shy of ruin, and now there were no wanted posters or Earth Kingdom guards to force her hand. She could walk away at any time. He needed her.
Without glancing back, Ozai rose and snatched up his chaofu, shrugged it on as he kicked on his boots, and shouldered the satchel on his way out the door.
That was the way most disasters began, he knew. One person needing another.
