Yeah, finally updated. Woot!
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As his palm doted down the small of her back, she was snapped abruptly from her memory. Time for the real world again.
Lips parted. "Have you made your decision?" Her tone smooth like liquid velvet.
Leaning against hers, locks of hair so brown they were almost black sweeping her forehead. She drew in a breath, the aroma of the road, incense, fire and, strangely, dewdrops, filling her nostrils. Her eyes became lidded.
No, this was not happening! She was supposed to be drawing him in, not the other way around!
"Do I have a choice?" Came his answer, a smirk forming on the mouth that was still so precariously near to hers. His eyes had not lost their rich hazel hue, speckles of ocher twinkling with slight amusement.
She had to match the gaze with one of her own, and in an instant her own expression was mysterious, charming, until they looked like two fools with an obsession with each other. But now that the game was set, no one was backing down until it had been won.
"You always have a choice, Prince," she replied, silk intoned in every decibel of her accent. The chestnut hand that had previously been situated at his shoulder slithered, coming to rest upon the nape of his neck. It seemed like she was making invisible, irremovable scores on his flesh, a vixen mark of territory.
"Well, you don't make it seem like I do," was his response, and suddenly Katara became weary of the ostensibly endless competition. They might as well do this all night and by dawn's awakening not have any outcomes.
How did she get into this mess anyway? All she had to do was gain his trust, then exploit it later on. At the beginning, it seemed like she had him wrapped around her delicate finger; how could he have seen through her act and untied himself as fluently as he had been taken captive?
"You are of royal blood, the Fire Nation's majestic line. Your preferences exceed your bounds," she said instead, for want of anything better. How could she have sunk so low as to praising the very family she was currently on a mission to destroy?
"Not anymore. Not after I have been deemed an outcast, a fugitive. My claim to the title of prince is empty, my name thrown in dishonor," now spat bitterly; had she struck a core?
"Not if you come with us," she regretted it as soon as it left her mouth. His eyes were now narrowed, penetrating, suspicious. It was something called a mistake, a blunder; irreversible, but the effects were lasting.
"Your intentions better not be what I think they are," dangerously.
If trouble had been brewing a while ago, now it was boiling mad.
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Don't really know where this is going, but it might be one heck of a ride.
REVIEW! or the next chapter gets it!
And if you have time, please check out my other ATLA fics. I have a healthy number of nine in total, this included.