Merrill blinked a few times when the sunlight woke her up the next morning. Samael lay next to her on his stomach, his black long hair scattered wildly on the pillow making a perfect contrast with the white fine fabric of the sheets.
Samael was normally always the first one awake, watching her with a teasing smile on his lips when Merrill woke up or sitting in his favorite armchair, entertaining himself with his thoughts. She had never seen him actually sleeping, not even once – until this day. The soft snores coming from him and his fluttering eyelashes let her know he was still in a sound sleep and it occurred to Merrill this was probably for the first time when Samael was completely off guard in her presence. Possibly in anyone's presence.
While she was waiting for him to wake up on his own, she reminisced about the last night at Ichabod's mansion and her face darkened. Something in that stranger's voice and face made her tense and suspicious about this human, however Varric claimed to have known him for long time, saying Ichabod was his friend. Her arms slipped pensively around her lover like she was determined to protect him with all her might and skills against whatever Ichabod had hidden up his sleeve.
When Samael finally stirred and squinted into the sunlight, Merrill had to smile about his grumpy expression and barely unstuck eyes. She figured out it wouldn't be wise to bring up yesterday events or how he felt about them; he had showed her how he felt at night after all and she was the only one who was allowed to see this vulnerable and weak part of him.
"Pancakes?" Merrill whispered between two good morning kisses, making him laugh about this practical attitude.
"Hum… later," he flipped her beneath him, holding her arms above her head.
A triple knock broke the moment; Samael glanced at the bedroom door, shouting "Come back in a half an hour!" Then his gaze slipped back into Merrill's lucid eyes and he realized he had to refine his statement. "Come back in two hours!" he yelled and Merrill pulled him down again, impatient.
"Messere Hawke, the Captain is demanding your presence and I have an impression it's about a very serious matter, so—" Bodahn's concerned voice was interrupted with a snort and the door was almost kicked open, Aveline rushing in.
Merrill squeaked, burying herself under the blankets, and Samael just sat up in the bed, scratching his back on the iron bed frame, simply glaring at the intruder.
"Hawke! I need you to come with me!" Aveline blurted out, tossing his breeches and under tunic by the bed at him.
"Just a few more minutes, mom—" Samael sneered at her, fishing for the elf in the tangle of pillows, blankets and sheets.
"NOW! And that better be Merrill!" Aveline gave him a patronizing look, gesturing towards the giggling bundle under the blankets. "Hurry!" she marched away, scolding him like a little boy. The sitting Samael collapsed back in the bed again, grimacing Aveline's command, and Merrill peered at him from under her cover, crawling on the top of him. Samael hissed when she bit his nipple and he spanked her, making her giggle again.
"I said now!" a cold order came from the main hall. The lovers just sighed and climbed out of the bed.
"She seriously needs to get laid…" Samael muttered to himself, dressing up and ogling the witch.
oOo
"Why don't you tell me what's going on?" Hawke demanded an explanation from the Captain, annoyed.
"You need to see that with your own eyes and besides that the Viscount himself ordered me to bring you along," Aveline stomped through the Lowtown with her men, heading for the docks. Samael wished he could scrape that self-important smirk off her face. Once they had reached the docks there was a barricade where the Guardsmen were patrolling. Aveline nodded at them and they were allowed to enter – Aveline then slowed her pace like she was musing if she should prepare them for what they would see in a minute, but apparently nothing came to her so she just pushed aside two young Guards recruits who were staring into the Qunari compound and she gestured inside.
Nothing could have prepared Samael and Merrill for the scene there. A thick, black chain was hanging across the narrow corridor leading to the compound and severed Qunari arms and legs were swaying in the air. The flesh was pale and bloodless, neat, and with the Qunari red paint on it. While Samael was observing in a cold demeanor the unexpected present someone had left here at night, Merrill staggered backwards and hid herself behind the Samael's back, clutching his leather jerkin and peering at the grey brawny leg swinging above her head.
"I told you to leave her home," Aveline whispered to Hawke, watching the elven girl's eyes popping out of her head. Samael just shrugged, glancing behind him.
"She has seen worse, I guess," he whispered back and his lips twisted into something what could have been a smile only if they weren't standing under the parts of Qunari corpses. "Although I don't understand, why did you insist I see this? Yay – the dead Qunari. So what? What do you expect me to do?" Samael sneered and stepped back to take a look at the entire scene. He had to admit it was quite impressive, if that someone who did that intended to piss off the Arishok.
Aveline just sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I told you the order came from the Viscount's office and the Arishok himself asked me, quite politely I must admit, to bring you along." Aveline finished her answer with her eyes narrowed in suspicion like she was wondering what Samael could have possibly done to snatch the Qunari leader's attention.
"Stay here," Hawke whispered to Merrill, brushing a thumb across her lower lip and then he glanced at the Captain like she was supposed to look after her. Aveline just rolled her eyes, but nodded back in agreement. Samael then strolled into the compound where the Qunari were buzzing and growling about what had happened, but they were simultaneously parting in front of the silent Hawke marching towards the Arishok's armchair. He halted there, waiting for the Arishok to look down at him since he had one severed arm lying across his lap and he was staring at it intently as if it could tell him what had happened to its former owner.
When the Arishok stayed hunched and silent, Hawke just shrugged and seated himself on the step by the armchair, polishing his katana with a strip of black fabric, waiting patiently for the Arishok to speak first.
"Why did you come?" was the Qunari's first reaction at the Hawke's presence after ten minutes of silence.
"The Viscount's order," Samael replied in a light tone, glancing behind him, then continuing his work. "And… you asked me to," he added after a moment, although his tone was uneasy suddenly. He tried to deal with his anxiety in his own way though. "I guess… a few more nights and you will have your precious karataam back," he chuckled mirthlessly to himself, but the Arishok grabbed the arm on his lap and hit Hawke's shoulder with it. Samael jumped up, tightening the grasp on his katana. The whole compound fell silent, watching the scene and a few of them pulled out their spears waiting for the leader's order to crush that little human worm, foolish enough to come among them without fear and humility. The Arishok slowly rose to his full height to underline his superiority.
Samael's amber eyes were clashing with the Arishok's shark eyes for one long minute, the Qunari then glanced at the katana he had admired before before he sank back into his armchair, setting the severed arm across his lap again. The giant's words about his wish to return home and his unexpected tender description of his homeland back at night made Samael lower his weapon, collapsing on the step again.
"You really don't think much before you open your filthy mouth, do you, Hawke…" the Qunari grumbled just as loud so only Samael could catch these words and he was surprised that they didn't sound angry or annoyed – more like amused and lenient.
"Any idea who did that?" Samael swiveled his head to face the Arishok, but then he realized his question was futile and silly since the whole Kirkwall hated the Qunari compound and the murderers of the karataam could be anyone. Samael didn't think for just a second this was the artwork of one person, but maybe he should have thought twice about this idea.
The Arishok just snorted at the question and only Samael's raised hand stopped him from preaching about this hated place, useless Viscount and the sheep instead of city dwellers.
"I'll try to help, Qunari, but don't expect miracles from me. I'm already involved enough in this mess, so I guess it won't get worse if I tickle some people who might stand behind this or at least know anything about this…" Samael's voice trailed off as he was thinking about where he should get started, but his words weren't obviously enough for the warped Qunari leader.
"You're completely USELESS, Hawke!" his voice thundered in the crammed compound as the Arishok jumped up, pacing on the steps. Samael remained calm despite the fact his short temper was about to explode at that insult. His hands trembling in wrath were continuing the polishing the weapon although Hawke was contemplating about cutting that brute's head off, then ask the head to apologize for those harsh words.
"I need you to find those responsible for these murders of my people, drag them in the middle of the Viscount's keep courtyard, gather your good for nothing people there and then let me tear the murderers' hearts out in front of everyone!" the Arishok was raging around and he finished his impressive speech with a slowly closing fist so Samael would be able to see just how much the Arishok would love to crush some human hearts.
"Are you done?" Samael asked coldly, slowly standing up. "Because I am," he turned his back to Arishok, slowly making his way out of there after that insult. He expected the Arishok to stop him if he was smart enough not to let the only person willing to help him leave, and he really did, although the choked plea came right before Samael was about to leave the compound for good.
"Wait!" Samael stopped at that terse exclamation, waiting if the Arishok would say anything else. Judging by the silence that followed the Arishok possessed the same diplomatic skills as Samael in this area and he had no idea what should he say or do right now. Samael turned around and stomped back with a properly sullen expression although inside he felt like laughing. They talked for an hour, debating about the situation and Samael definitely lost the awareness of time in there, but the unexpected noise by the Qunari gate make them interrupt the conversation and glance there – the huge Qunari held Merrill by her arm, yanking her out of Qunari territory. Samael set his narrowed eyes at the Arishok; he understood and stood up to settle the quarrel.
"Let the Hawke's Saarebas pass!" he ordered and the Qunari let go of the elf's arm immediately, glancing at his leader if he wouldn't be punished. Merrill stumbled through the silent Qunari to Hawke, watching in awe Samael's relaxed position and the bowl of grapes the Arishok had ordered brought to them.
"I was worried, Samael, I…" Merrill peeped, her eyes widened and fidgeting under the Arishok's scrutiny. Samael jumped up, nodding at the Arishok like they came to an understanding and there was nothing more to say. He followed the Arishok's gaze locked at the elf and he stalked to the giant, sneering.
"Like I said, Qunari, paw your own Saarebas," he whispered to the Qunari, a teasing smile on his lips. The Arishok coughed, feeling awkward that his lustful staring was so obvious, and he gave Hawke a subtle bow before leaving.
oOo
Later that day a small group was strolling through the darkening Lowtown, laughing loudly and cracking jokes. When Samael made sure nobody was looking at him, his hand found Merrill's cold one under the cover of night and the elven girl pressed herself onto him. Varric just glanced at those pigeons, then his gaze landed back at the elven arcane warrior who was oddly quiet tonight, but the dwarf kept marching towards their destination – a construction site of the Hanged Man. The smell of raw wood and raised columns ready for a roof made Varric gasp in relief and impatience to have a home again, since Corff had promised him his room back – and even bigger than the previous one.
The mild breeze brought raised voices to them and Samael was able to glimpse a Chantry sister disappearing in a dark alley along with a dubiously looking thug, rubbing his hands behind the Sister's back.
"Another moron, not aware she should have stayed praying in her precious Chantry tonight…" Samael muttered to himself, snaking his arms around his fidgety elf.
"C'mon, Hawke, where's your sense for justice and an obsessive need to help?" Varric smirked at Hawke, stroking Bianca thoughtfully.
"I left them in my other pants," Samael sneered in reply, accompanied by Merrill's giggling and pawing him.
"If you two are done fucking each other through your clothes I suggest we should look what's happening in that dark alley," Varric talked to his hand, raised in front of his face, like he was checking on his fingernails.
"Whatever," Samael sighed, pulling his hand back from Merrill's… private place.
When they reached the dark corner of Lowtown, a most peculiar scene opened to them. A Chantry sister, laying on the ground, held by two bastards, a leader thug unlacing his breeches to have his way with her.
"Hum, I'll come back later if I'm interrupting something," Samael grimaced at the nearest thug, unsheathing his unbelievably long katana.
"Get 'em, boys!" the boss shouted, groping for his pathetic excuse for a sword. His affords were futile since his head was happily rolling on the ground in a minute along with various body parts of his comrades. One last young lad was crouching in the corner, his short sword clanged on the stone as he watched Hawke approaching him with his bloody katana ready to chop off his head as well. Samael cocked his head as he watched the young trembling boy, he might be fifteen or sixteen years old with long blonde dirty hair and almond-shaped hazel eyes. Hawke yanked the lad by his neckline closer to him, until their noses almost touched.
Tell me, lad, what's your name?" Samael spoke first, so calm and casual, like he was talking about the dinner.
"M-my n-name is Hein, Serah Hawke," the youngster stammered, his eyes widened in utter horror now, expecting the embrace of death any second.
"So you do know my name, Hein… interesting," Samael stroked the boy's jaw, setting his lethal blade at the boy's throat with his other hand. "Tell me, young man, how much exactly do you want to live?" Samael continued in his interrogation.
"I… I'll do anything, Serah Hawke!" the lad almost yelled his desperate wish, need, demand, plea. Hawke leaned even closer to the young man, whispering, "Run, little rabbit," before he let the boy go.
"I'm impressed, Hawke. You actually let him live," Varric said after a moment of silence, and his voice wasn't sardonic or mocking – it was thoughtful and distant.
"I'm a secret philanthropist, dwarf," Samael grimaced at him, stalking to the shaken Chantry Sister.
"Off you go, Sister, back to the Chantry," he helped her up, dusting her robes.
"The Maker himself led you here tonight, child," the Sister blessed the surprised Hawke, clutching his jerkin like she wouldn't let go of him – ever. "I'm Sister Petrice," the Chantry woman introduced herself with a subtle bow. "I might have an offer for you and the reward will be… immense indeed," she continued in a light tone, but Hawke did notice that something was terribly off about this Sister. Not to mention she seemed calm and cold, not like a pious woman who had just almost been raped.
"Well, may the Maker bake with you, Sister, but I'm not looking for any redemption in the Maker's eyes," Samael threw a comment behind his back, leaving the place already.
"I have a Saarebas, Hawke!" the Sister said in a slow, vehement voice, waiting for his reaction.
"You don't say…" Samael stopped, but didn't turn around. "And what do you intend to do with him?" he asked cautiously, like he didn't care much about the answer. Then it came to him that he hadn't introduced himself to the Sister, yet she knew his name. Yes, something was definitely off here.
"I hoped someone would lead that poor thing out of the city. You should see him, Hawke! He's collared and mute and oppressed and… alone." Petrice finished her plea hesitantly, trying her best to persuade him.
"I agree," was Samael's immediate and quiet response as he turned back to the Sister who was gaping at him in awe.
"Hawke, you're not serious, right?" Varric droned disturbed. Fawn stayed silent, but even he was watching Hawke with his eyes narrowed.
"I think, it's very sweet of you," Merrill interrupted the dwarf with a dreamy expression on her face.
"Where is he?" Samael asked, getting straight to the point.
"Come with me," Petrice waved her hand, satisfied with herself and her persuasive abilities.
oOo
Their journey through meandering tunnels of Undercity was long and silent. Samael led the way, his hand holding the leash with Ketojan, Merrill was happily skittering around them, Varric occasionally disrupted the silence with choked swearing channeled merely in Hawke's way and Fawn's eyes were set on the huge Qunari mage.
When Samael reached the crossroad, he glanced briefly in the way which led out of Kirkwall, then he yanked the leash gently in the other way, leading to—
"Hawke, you do realize you're going in a wrong direction?" Varric asked, annoyed and not sure how Samael could have made such an obvious mistake.
"Last time I checked I was the one leading this Qunari, dwarf, and believe me – I know where we are going just fine," Samael smirked in return, but then his gaze slipped at Merrill who was staring at him in horror. Fawn's short chuckling about this unexpected twist didn't help her either.
"But… but you said you would set him free?" she caught Hawke's sleeve, shrinking back when the silent Ketojan turned his masked face to her.
"Oh, come on, Merrill!" Samael laughed into her face. "You can't be serious! We happen to meet this odd Chantry bigot who had two Templars hidden in the darkness by the way, waiting for us to 'save her' from disgracing her pure, pure body and then it turns out she has a Qunari mage who has survived no doubt that slaughter of the karataam you have witnessed today. I don't know what intentions that Sister Petrice have, but it ain't this creature's freedom or some noble idea."
"You promised to this… Saarebas… a freedom, Hawke!" Merrill shook him, her eyes shooting reddish flames. She squealed when Ketojan set his huge hand gently on her shoulder like he was trying to say everything was all right.
"I haven't discussed my decisions with anyone before unless I asked for advice myself, Merrill, and I certainly won't start doing that right now!" Samael glared at her, challenging her to tempt his temper further.
"It's a mindless beast, Merrill. It belongs to its people. Be reasonable," Fawn entered the debate finally, approaching his kin with reassuring smile on his face. Merrill pushed the Saarebas behind her with an unexpected vigour and might, ripping her staff out of its back sheathe.
"I won't let you touch him! They would kill him, Samael, and you know that!" she shrieked, her voice trembling and echoing in the tunnel. Varric, silent and a bit bored until now, finally decided to settle this ridiculous row.
"Hawke, Daisy…" he addressed them, nodding at both. They twitched, but stopped glaring at each other and turned to the dwarf. "I've glimpsed a very dark alcove with an old crumbling stone pedestal a minute ago," Varric continued in a nonchalant way of conversation. Judging by their arched eyebrows and mute questions what the hell this remark was supposed to mean, they wanted him to continue his speech. "Maybe you two should go in there and fuck each other, because that had worked out so well before instead of actual, you know, talking to each other about stuff—"
"SHUT UP, VARRIC!" the both lovers shouted at the same time the same phrase at the poor dwarf who just raised his palms in an innocent gesture.
At least Samael woke up a bit, taking a deep breath as he stalked to the panting Dalish witch.
"This Saarebas, or Ketojan, or whatever, is going back to the Qunari compound. Now. Do you have any problem with this order?" he asked her slowly, piercing her with his eyes which looked dead black with red highlights in the light of two torches held by Varric and Fawn. Samael noticed the elven arcane warrior tensed, watching the clash of wills in front of him in disquiet.
Merrill lowered her head in defeat and the light of her staff darkened along with her determination to save this creature.
"Good," Samael hissed. "Let's go." He grasped the leash tight again, pushing the Saarebas gently forward.
oOo
"I need to talk to your Arishok, Qunari," Samael strolled to the silent gate keeper, trying to sound calm and firm, although he felt exhausted and uneasy. His fight with Merrill had hurt him.
"This is strange time to ask for an audience, human," the Qunari growled in reply after a minute of silent observing Hawke. He couldn't see Samael's companions and the Saarebas hidden in the darkness.
Samael wanted to counter with some scorching comment, but he realized it would be best to keep calm. Well, easy to say, hard to do. "Tell him I have his Saarebas, you worthless pile of Qunari shit!" Hawke shouted loud enough so he could be heard in the compound. The reaction was as expected – several Qunari rushed to him, talking to each other frantically in their own tongue.
"Silence!" a familiar voice thundered and they all fell silent, including Hawke. At the Samael's sign, Fawn brought Ketojan to the gate, handing the leash to Samael again.
"The Saarebas from my lost karataam," the Arishok breathed out, astonished. "How… What… Why…?" he turned his chiseled face to the motionless Hawke, faltering like a young Qunari spawn.
"We need to talk, Arishok, but not now. I'll explain tomorrow night," Samael replied, making sure the Qunari leader had understood the hint that Samael wished to meet him on their spot at docks tomorrow night. The Qunari glanced at him, bowing like he would be there. Samael handed him over the leash which was accompanied with Merrill's choked sob coming from outside of the Qunari camp. He didn't know why he did that, but Samael patted the Qunari mage's arm tenderly and left the compound with downcast eyes.
oOo
"How! Could! You! Do! That!" With her every shouted word Merrill threw at her lover something – a book, a vase, a fireplace poker, then herself when nothing was left around her and she pounded his chest with clenched fists.
"It was necessary." Samael replied after a moment, pushing her away, but Merrill wasn't done.
"One time I think you might do actually something nice, and it turns out that you lied anyway! You… you!" Merrill continued her rampage and Bodahn's face which had peered at them from around the kitchen corner disappeared immediately when yet another copper vase flew dangerously close to him.
"You know nothing about the Qunari, Merrill!" Samael lost his patience and yelled at her back. "He's collared for a good reason and a lone Saarebas is as dangerous as any—" Samael fell silent, realizing what he was about to say.
"Any apostate, you wanted to say?" Merrill pushed him with all her strength, making him stagger a step backwards.
"Actually, yes, any mad apostate or a blood mage craving the power!" Samael clenched her shoulders, letting her know that he wouldn't tolerate her outburst much longer.
"You bloody hypocrite!" Samael couldn't believe she actually had shouted those words right into his face and he forced himself to think about a blossoming meadow, a jug of delicious mead and somehow an empty whiteness of Ichabod's eyes flooded his mind, calming him down for a second. Alas - Merrill ruined his re-found repose with her next words.
"So why do you keep me? Your personal apostate, elven, pointy-eared, painted, silly—" Merrill cried out, desperate, not knowing anymore what she was saying, and Samael interrupted her and his deadly quiet voice should tell her to get a hold of herself again.
"Are you done?" he shook her rougly, staring into her eyes, their noses almost touching.
"—silly, Dalish pet!" Merrill tried unsuccessfully to shake his hands off her and maybe it was just now when she realized what she had said.
Samael loosened his grasp at her, watching her in disbelief and Merrill couldn't believe that for one breathless second a tiny tear appeared in the corner of his right eye, then it disappeared again when he blinked.
"Do you really feel this way about me?" he asked her quietly, his voice hoarse and oddly calm. Before she could have replied anything, he continued. "All right." Samael whispered more to himself than to her, turning around, stalking to the front door, only to return back in front of her again, standing still for a moment.
"I would have given you everything," he brushed a stray strand of her disheveled hair away from her face and then he was gone. Merrill just managed to whisper "Wait…" then collapsed on the floor, tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn't even looked up when she felt Sandal's small gentle hand stroking her back.
oOo
Samael leaned on the closed front door, shivering despite the warm late spring breeze coming from the sea. What the hell just had happened?
"You fool." Samael twitched at that simple statement, but relaxed when he realized it came from the elf, leaning on his estate wall, smoking, searching the sky and blowing the smoke hedonistically up into the sky.
"She didn't want you to leave, you human rascal," Fawn remarked, not taking his eyes from the indigo sky.
"Well, it sounded pretty much like she can't stand me," Samael have no idea why he even bothered with responding.
"Ah, you really are foolish," Fawn chuckled like it was hilarious as hell. "She wanted you to reassure her you love her and make sweet, sweet love to her," Fawn was guffawing now at his own sardonic words like he hadn't said anything funnier in his whole life.
"Screw you," Samael whispered, walking away from the snide elf. A shadow of mabari was sneaking right behind him, like Charon knew his master needed desperately a friend.
"Yeah, screw me..." Fawn's voice trailed off as he watched Hawke disappearing around the corner, pulling a hood over his head.
oOo
"Shove off, whore!" Samael hissed at the elven girl at the Blooming Rose. Just for a second he thought a good fuck with a stranger would do the trick and make him feel better, but the woman only managed to unbutton his white shirt and he found himself pushing her away and shouting misplaced insults at her.
Madame Lusine came near to him, alarmed by his harsh words, but since he was a well-paying customer for years, she just raised a finger at him and refilled his glass of red whine, squeezing his bare shoulder briefly. Then she glanced at the mabari chewing on the bone by his master's feet and drooling on her flamboyant carpet. Lusine just sighed, thinking that this was certainly the very first war dog in her house.
"Oh my! Mighty Hawke in the brothel. I had no idea you have to pay for sex, Samael." A familiar voice interrupted Samael's glum musing, a venom literally dripping off from every word.
"I didn't know you are working here now, Haydée, you know, since I own the lyrium trade in Kirkwall," Samael countered with an equally 'lovely' comment, not even granting her a glance. "And I don't remember allowing you call me with my first name either," he added, sipping the wine and scowling at the glass.
Without permission and with quirkiness only she possessed, Haydée seated herself right next to him on the tawdry sofa, waving at the lad to bring her a drink. Samael shook his head about this impudence, but he just had no strength left to argue with this sharp-witted woman.
"So…" Haydée didn't know where to start. "Where's your pet?" she asked in a light tone, not knowing she had just chafed the already open pulsing wound. When Samael said nothing, gulping down the full glass of wine, Haydée knew immediately what was going on.
"Perhaps you don't see that, Hawke, but you need a strong and smart woman by your side. Someone—" Samael jumped rather rudely into her speech.
"You mean someone like you?" he asked her, his voice bitter, but not without interest.
"Exactly!" Haydée punched his shoulder in a playful way, yet her hand lingered there for a moment. Well – until Samael realized, what she was doing, and he swept the guilty hand off him. The woman then fell silent, until she attempted to break through his silent peel again.
"Let me propose a toast at least," she fluttered her eyelashes at him and Samael had to admit this woman was damned good at manipulating with people. He shrugged, but raised his glass to meet hers with a chink.
"Live hard, die young and leave a fucking beautiful corpse behind!" Haydée exclaimed merrily, so the whole room turned at them and who wasn't aware yet that Samael Hawke was drinking along with Haydée Morrell in the Kirkwall brothel, well, now they all knew.
Hawke chuckled briefly at her strange toast, but sipped his wine obediently, watching his lovely and mischievous companion. He couldn't see a slender hooded figure standing by the front door and staring at his relaxed pose on the sofa, a woman brushing a non-existent feather off his bare chest and a mabari dog who fell asleep in the meantime. But Haydée caught that intent mossy green gaze focused at them and she perfectly knew who was under that cloak and why.
"Maybe we could… continue in our pleasing conversation at some place without dozens eyes gaping at us." Haydée threw in a lax half-question, half-demand, and her eyes glancing at the front door again told her the Dalish girl was gone. Haydée was sure Samael would yield to her charms tonight.
Samael finished his fifth glass of wine, swiveling his head to face the temptress.
"Just one thing, Miss Morrell," he whispered to her, dangerously close to her full, slightly parted lips. "I only sleep with women who have attempted to kill me just once. If I recall correctly, I've had a pleasure of your hired jesters twice already – first at the Keep courtyard, then at the Hanged Man." Samael leaned even closer to her until his lips were almost brushing her ear and he could feel the warmth emanating from her body and her alluring perfume filled him.
"But —" Haydée breathed out, her hoarse voice trembling and colored with rabid lust.
"I bid you good night, Haydée," he whispered to her ear, making sure she was shuddering uncontrollably as he parted from her, searching her widened eyes.
"Charon…" Samael whispered, not taking his burning eyes off the panting woman. The sleeping mabari jumped up immediately, watching the master and awaiting commands. Samael gave his lady a sardonic, yet graceful bow and headed for the door, flipping a sovereign at the bartender.