Chapter 7: Two Birds of a Feather

It seemed they would never get to leave Redcliffe Castle. Just when all their preparations were complete, a heavy rain had set in. There was not much point in travelling in this weather, so they stayed on. They were all raring to go, though, their mood getting more testy and irritable with each day.

If it hadn't been for Zevran, Cat would have lost her mind. Funnily enough, none of the others seemed to notice what they were up to at night. Well, Wynne certainly had her suspicions. And Morrigan had smiled a lazy, knowing smile, when Cat had asked her for the ingredients of a certain herbal tea. Back when May had left Redcliff Castle with her handsome footman, this recipe had been her farewell present. "I don't want you to get in trouble, honey," she had said with a wink.

Oh well, there are all kinds of trouble, Cat thought philosophically as she went on a final round of their rooms to check all their packs. Everything was perfect, bowstrings mended, blades whetted, provisions packed. They were ready to set out in the morning.

When she wandered into Zev's room, he welcomed her with a radiant smile. "Glad we're finally leaving, cara?" he asked.

"More than just glad," she sighed. "Though I am going to miss the soft beds..."

He grinned wickedly and, before she could guess his intention, had her pressed against the wall, pinning her wrists above her head with his right hand while his left started softly stroking her breasts through her thin shirt. "Don't worry, my love," he said huskily. "Who needs beds when there's soft moss and downy grass and... walls."

She swallowed. "Walls?" His grin became more mischievous and she could feel him hard against her stomach, his hands busy with the strings of her shirt.

Before he could elaborate, however, the door burst open and Alistair barged in. "Zev, did you remember to..." His eyes widened and he immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion. "Damn it Arainai, get your hands off her. What do you think you're doing?" He raised his hand, trying to land a punch on Zevran's chin, but that turned out to be a near-fatal mistake.

All she saw was a quick flurry of movements, too fast for her to make out in detail, and Alistair found himself lying on the floor with Zevran astride his chest, a thin curved blade pressed to his throat.

"You shifty Antivan bastard!" Alistair sputtered, but Zevran just smiled, his eyes half closed.

"It's never wise to insult a man who's holding a knife to your throat," he hummed, softly increasing the pressure of the blade to draw a few drops of blood. Alistair paled visibly.

"Enough!" Cat cut in, and Zevran immediately jumped to his feet in a fluid, graceful motion. "Alistair, if you intended to defend my honour, you're more than a bit late," she remarked flippantly, realizing her mistake when she saw his face.

He wore an expression of pure shock and disgust as he looked at her. "Are you telling me you let this... this dirty street thug, this scum, make a whore out of you?"

"He's considerably cleaner than you, Alistair," she answered dryly, "and I don't think a few nights with him make me a whore."

Zevran could clearly hear the deep hurt in her voice, under her mask of cool disdain, but Alistair ignored it and just went on, too appalled to care. "Cat, how could you? You're Bryce Cousland's daughter, you could have married a king!"

Her stare became icy, as she looked at him. "Could have? And now I'm damaged goods, Alistair, is that what you are saying?" The knight blanched, visibly shaken. "Get out!" she snarled, and he was smart enough to obey.

Zevran looked at her pale face, her trembling lips, and realized how frayed her nerves must be. "Don't mind him, love," he said lightly. "He was just surprised. He'll see reason tomorrow."

She took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. "I'll make him apologize to you. No one will talk like this to the man I love."

His head snapped up and he looked at her, not sure he'd heard her right. "That's a big word," he replied warily.

"Too big for a little girl, you mean!" He could hear her fury, now directed at him.

"That's not what I meant," he said softly. "But you do realize that it's only natural to fall in love with your first lover. It doesn't mean..."

She shook her head violently, clearly rejecting his facile explanation, but she let it go for now. "Just don't leave me, Zev!" She looked very young and vulnerable for a moment.

He carefully put an arm around her shoulder. "I won't, cara. Though, you know, Alistair is not completely wrong. Who knows, after the Blight, you might want to settle down with one of your kind..."

She gave a bitter little laugh and looked up at him. "My kind? After the Blight I'll probably be dead, Zev. But if by some miracle I shouldn't be, I'm counting on you to get me away from them."

She paced the room like a caged animal, more agitated than he'd ever seen her. "Zev, if there was one good thing about the attack on my parents' home, in the midst of all the horror, it was that it freed me of that life. I always hated it. Zev, I would have wilted there. I need the road, I need the fighting, and the stealing, and the danger. I'm more like you than you think."

"Don't say that! You don't know me!" It was his turn to sound bitter. "You have no idea of the things I've done. I'm an assassin, Cat, I enjoy killing, the power of it, the rush..."

"And you think I don't?" Her voice was trembling with a feverish passion now. "Zev, I'm no sweet little angel, no pretty little plaything. Maybe it's the taint, maybe it's just me. At any rate, when Duncan had me drink from that chalice, he took away any chance I ever had of a happy, peaceful future. All that's in store for me is fighting, killing, and an early death. But there's one thing I know, and it's that I want to be with you!"

She kissed him hard, a desperate, violent kiss, biting his lip and hissing at him. "Damn it, Zev, make love to me now, no, fuck me, like there's no tomorrow!"

Her words and her torrid raspy voice made something snap inside him and he pulled her close in a rough, almost brutal grip. They went down to the floor, tearing at each other's clothes, possessed by a raw primal need that brooked no delay. She wrapped her legs around his waist with an urgent groan, and he thrust inside her, not caring if she was ready for him, consumed by this burning craving to be with her, to join with her. It was a hurried, frenzied coupling, all refinement stripped away by naked intense desire. As she came with a hoarse scream in his arms, he collapsed over her, shivering uncontrollably.

When he came to his senses, he was struck by an immediate sense of shame and worry. "Did I hurt you, love? Cat?"

She shook her head, but he saw streaks of blood on her hands, and suddenly realized it was his own. Deep bloody scratches ran over his back, and he saw her eyes widen in shock. "Zev... oh Zev, I'm so sorry." She quickly got an injury kit from the pack and started cleaning and dressing the wounds. He let her take care of him, still too shaken to protest. Then he held her close as dry sobs racked her body.

When she tried to speak, he shushed her. "Enough," he whispered. "You were right. Let's enjoy what we have and take each day as it comes. Who knows whether we'll be alive tomorrow."