Chapter 14: You're Mine

It took them almost two weeks to get back to the surface. Two weeks of endless trudging through the darkness, two weeks of fighting off spiders and darkspawn and deepstalkers. When they finally reached Aeducan Thaig and their old campsite, everyone's nerves were frazzled, except Oghren's maybe, but then he was rarely sober enough to tell. Alistair and Leliana had quarrelled violently over a week ago, and were no longer on speaking terms. Cat didn't know what had happened and she didn't care. She was far too worried about Zevran.

Being down here was harder on him than on all the others. He was Elven after all, and the weight of the rock seemed to press down on him, suffocating him, making him tense and moody. But it was more than that. Ever since he'd given her the earring he had seemed irritable, fighting some inner demon, struggling with his own feelings.

When she had given the order to destroy the Anvil, he had disagreed and they had argued as they never had before. He'd never questioned her authority before, and it had shaken her to the core to lose his support in this. He hadn't shared her bedroll since then, had hardly talked to her, and she missed him desperately. His warmth, his tenderness, his humour. Whenever she looked at his shuttered, withdrawn face, she ached inside, with a dull hollow feeling.

That night she took first watch, with Fluffy by her side. As she sat there staring into the darkness, she heard steps behind her and turned around, hoping to see Zevran. But to her surprise it was Alistair who walked towards her. He sat down next to her, gave her one of his crooked smiles and shared her silence for a while. It was good to have him here, she realised. He was a Warden like her and he understood better than any of the others what she'd been through in the past weeks.

With a deep sigh he turned to her. "What a nightmare!" he muttered, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer.

She didn't have to ask what he was referring to. She still saw the gruesome vision of the Broodmother before her whenever she closed her eyes, and even now she shuddered at the thought.

"Shhh," he whispered, rocking her gently, and she was glad for his support.

"It sucks to be a Warden," she moaned against his shoulder and he chuckled.

"They never told us about that, didn't they?" he remarked wryly. "But then they never told us about so many things."

When she looked up into his eyes, surprised at the changed tone of his voice, his hand moved up to her cheek and her eyes widened as she became aware of what was happening. Hypnotized by his intense gaze, she made no move to stop him as he pulled her against his broad chest and his lips touched hers, tentatively brushing against them for a brief moment. Then she felt his tongue parting her lips, and he kissed her, deeply and with an assurance she hadn't expected. This wasn't the old innocent, clumsy Alistair, she realised with a shock. He knew exactly what he wanted and he wasn't shy about it either. Before she knew it she was kissing him back, lost in the feel of his hot mouth, his hands caressing her back, his muscular arms around her. Maker, he was strong and warm and his skin was soft and silky... She felt her affection-starved body respond with an urgency that made her shiver.

Zevran was watching from the shadows. He had followed her when she went out. Ever since she had taken that horrible wound, he'd been worried sick about her, not wishing to let her out of his sight. When Alistair had approached, every warning sense in his body had begun to tingle, though, and as he saw the knight pull her into an embrace, saw her body relax against his, he felt a wave of red-hot fury nearly obliterating his sight.

It lasted only a moment, though. An ice-cold determination took hold of him, a deadly concentration, the familiar focus on the kill. Without a conscious thought he moved closer, his daggers in hand. His brain automatically calculated the necessary moves, the feint with the right, Alistair's foreseeable reaction, the quick slice of his throat with the left. As the excitement washed over him, the thrill of the chase he'd missed for so long, he quietly closed in.

When Alistair pulled back for breath, Cat felt his beard stubbles brush softly against her cheeks and that brief contact made her immediately aware of what she was doing. Without a moment's hesitation she pushed him back, raised her right hand and, before he could guess her intention, slapped him hard in the face.

Ignoring the hurt look in his eyes she hissed at him. "Alistair, no! What in the Maker's name do you think you're doing?"

He blanched, but his eyes retained their pleading look. "Cat, please. I need you. I can't marry Anora, she'll be the death of me. If I am to be king, come with me. Be my queen, they'll accept you."

She looked at him incredulously for a moment, then her face softened and she gently stroked his cheek. "No, Alistair, I can't do that. Not even for you. Ferelden is full of pretty young girls who'll make you happier than I ever could. I'm no queen. I belong to him."

Alistair looked at her, his expression resigned. "Even though he's been treating you like dirt lately?"

She closed her eyes. "Yes," she said quietly.

Zevran had frozen in motion when she had lashed out at Alistair. Listening to their words, he felt a sudden rush of anger at himself. It was true, he had made her miserable, and he had nearly pushed her into another's arms by his behaviour. He cursed his own foolishness as he turned around and went back to the camp. He could hear Alistair's footsteps only moments later. The knight sighed, pulled his bedroll into a quiet corner and settled down for the night.

When Cat came back from her watch and took off her armour, a weary look on her face, he was waiting for her, naked inside the bedroll. Without a word he pulled her into a deep, ardent embrace, kissing her hungrily. He heard her gasp of surprise, turning into a soft happy sigh as she returned his kiss with the same fervour.

"Zev, I've missed you, I've missed you so much, I thought I'd lost you," she moaned as he showered her face with kisses.

"Cara, I'll never let you go, you're mine," he whispered, his hands already busy pulling off her shift, freeing her breasts to his touch. She arched up high into his hands as he let them wander over her body, desperate for his caress. He needed to feel her, to touch her everywhere, and they both huddled against each other, driven by a longing to be close.

When he slid inside her she pulled up her legs as far as she could, moving her hands to his lower back to push him deeper. He gasped as he felt her legs twist around his, holding him as tight as she could, pulling him further into her heat. It hardly left him room to move, but he didn't care, losing himself in her body enveloping his, so warm, so tight, so utterly perfect.

Finally he pulled back a little and began to thrust inside her, gently at first, but then he could feel her nails dig deeply into his back as she begged, her voice low and hoarse with desire. "Zev, please, harder, deeper, more!" He lost control then, pounding inside her, taking possession of her again and again and again, and as they both felt their lust reach its peak, they clung to each other so tight that their bodies seemed to melt into each other.

"Zevran, I'm yours. Always yours," she breathed against his ear, when she could speak again.

"And I am yours," he replied, and the intense passion in his voice made her tremble deep inside.