A/N: 'M' warning for morally questionable (or pretty straight) disturbing content. Bishop's head can really be a sick-sick place.
XXIX: Never Wake a Sleeping Beast
The corridor was dim, rare oil-lamps on the walls doing little to fight the gloom, but enough for Adele not to risk trying her darkvision. Simple wooden doors all looked the same, and it took her some time to recognize her own, not to mention others. Still, passing her room, she moved further, ignoring the slight sway to the walls caused by her half-drunken state and doing her best to remember who was staying where.
Unnecessary, she discovered. Hardly anyone else would have had a wolf drowsing at the threshold.
At her arrival Karnwyr lifted his head, looking at the woman mistrustfully and, as she took a step towards him, rose to his paws.
"Relax, it's just me," she muttered.
Karnwyr cocked his furry head just as suspiciously, but moved a bit to the side, holding his gaze on her as she came up to the door – but, at least, didn't seem inclined to start a fight. Taking a breath, she raised her hand for a knock, but stopped, looking absently at her own knuckles.
Truth be told, Malin made her nervous. And because of that, all the more irritated. Gods witness, she had enough to worry about beside one of her companions turning out to be a raving sadist.
What am I going to say?
…Well, something.
She clenched her fist tighter, watching the little bones moving under her skin.
I just need to know, that's all. Besides, he seemed alright when at the table. Even sort of jovial.
Lie. He was too jovial. The only time she ever remembered the ranger being so talkative, so theatrically flippant and playfully snide had been at the night when they brought Shandra back from the gith. At the 'Flagon', when he had said he was going to stay on with them. She hadn't liked it back then. And as sure as Hells she didn't like it today.
Then why are you here?
Wincing at the chaos in her own head, Adele found the only way to block it – she simply knocked.
Silence.
…Great. What better sign to turn around and go?
Adele looked down at the wolf. He shifted his eyes from her to the door and back, this time appearing almost curious, like he was interested in how his master would react to this night invasion. Though Adele suspected he had a better guess on that than her.
Come on, ranger, wakie-wakie.
She knocked again, harder, without even giving much thought to her own doing. It just felt utterly worthless, coming here and simply leaving.
No answer.
Karnwyr ended up looking solely at her. If she didn't know better, she would have presumed the wolf was grinning.
"Love you too, darling," Adele grouched at him, then sighed and bent down, placing her one hand on her knee for support and reaching out towards the animal with the other. Karnwyr drew back and glowered at her, as if asking what in the Hells she wanted from him. She stopped her hand in the air, waiting for him to sniff it suspiciously. "Yes, you've bitten it already. What, you think you are the only one stubborn here?"
Swiftly circling the palm over his head to make him lose his bearings, she dipped her fingers into wiry grey fur, scratching behind the wolf's ear, and just as quickly snatched the hand away, grinning at the quiet snarl.
"Come on, didn't die, did you?"
Karnwyr sniffed, sounding almost miffed, and jerked his head out of her palm's reach. It only served to make her grin wider.
"Promising view," came Bishop's voice from above, and all her guts sank to her boots.
Adele turned her head and drew herself up, her gaze lingering for a moment on his bare feet. The sight was almost enough to bring a smile to her face. It was… too homely to resist. But the smile never came, as her eyes unwittingly slid from the feet up his long legs in slightly crumpled breeches of faded black – and stuck at the moulded relief of his bare stomach and chest. Surely he was well-built, with his style of life Adele would have been surprised to discover otherwise. Just as surely he was to have traces of wounds… but she never could have guessed how much. Swarthy skin was literally hatched with smooth white strips of scars, old stitches, canals of claw marks, almost making him look like he had been ripped to pieces and then sewn back together on someone's knee. She saw even several nasty patches of some old burns, as if a good rag of his skin had been peeled off – on the shoulder, on his arm, under the ribs, on his left side, not far from the trail of bronze hair running down between the slopes of his abs, passing the hollow of his navel…
Adele blinked, for a heartbeat caught utterly unawares by stupid yet frighteningly strong impulse to fill that hollow with her tongue, to run it down, its tip ruffling those short hairs all the way under the low waistband of his trews…
With pains, but she forced her eyes to snap up to his face… and froze.
For that face was shaved.
The woman had her suspicions that Bishop does shave sometimes after all… probably… well, logically. But it was actually the first time she saw him shaven. Along with his hair disheveled after sleep, smooth cheeks made him look almost boyish… If it wasn't for the eyes. Intent, clear – even though he had been asleep just before – those eyes seemed to glitter in the shade of the corridor.
I want him, - something inside of her growled, almost angrily, that part of her that always awakened at the sparkling intonations of his mordant voice, at the smoky smell of his skin… – I want him for my own!
Bishop leaned his shoulder against the door-post, giving a lazy scratch to his cheek with the dagger she hadn't even noticed in his hand before, and quirked an eyebrow: "Yeah?"
Adele could almost hear the moist 'clunk' as her tongue came off the palate it got stuck to, and strained her mind to produce at least one coherent thought. "You… shave before sleep?"
"…Sometimes," his gaze slipped down her, slowly, until just as slowly returning to her face, amusement whirling behind amber iris. "Never know when a pretty lady comes by at night."
…Well, crap. This certainly isn't helping.
"Need to talk," she croaked.
"Just to talk?" he winced. "Not interested."
And before she could grasp anything, he pushed the door closed. Hissing in the air through her teeth, she shoved the door, flinging it opened into the room, and the ranger took an obviously startled step back.
"Well, I am," she cut off.
"I'm armed," he warned, as she strode past him into the gloom of the tiny ascetic suit diluted only by a faint flicker of a lonely candle on the table.
"Glad for you."
With a martyred sigh he closed the door behind her, dropping his weight on it. "I was sleeping."
"You are paranoid, you never sleep."
Bishop snorted at that, finally pushing himself off the door. "Need to bring back good-old tradition of twenty golds for a conversation – might have bought myself a castle in Calimshan already," he sat down on the unmade bed. "So, what got stuck in your fair ass this time, my lady?"
"I was only -" she turned to him, just in time to catch his groping stare at her legs…
…damn, it's like he's seeing me naked…
…and put her hands to her hips: "Bishop, my eyes are higher."
Look who said it, - her inner voice choked with laughter.
"I know," he answered innocently, slowly lifting his gaze up to her face, and smirked, settling back on the bed, leaning his shoulders against the wall and lacing his fingers on the stomach. "I'm all attention, princess."
Adele rolled her eyes and turned away, coming up to the table and taking the time when he could not see her face to screw her eyes tightly for a moment and suppress a completely idiotic wish to grin.
"Should be grateful at least for that, I guess," she concluded, dropping on the chair near the table, with her back to the candle, so that he wouldn't be able to discern her cheeks burning. "What happened between you and Malin, finally?"
It was his turn to blink, an unguarded surprised motion she saw in him so rarely – perhaps, being unexpectedly awakened had some effect on him still, depriving the ranger of at least a bit of his careful self-control.
"Tell me, princess, do you wake all men in the middle of the night to ask about their former wenches?"
"No, unless… 'former wenches' speak some really creepy crap about them."
Something changed in his eyes, slightly, subtly…
"…Huh," he inclined a bit backwards, pressing the back of his head to the wall, the gleam of the candle casting deep trembling shadows over his face and body. Dim light was definitely doing the bastard too much justice, and even though she couldn't recall ever seeing someone so badly scarred, still, somehow darkness, firelight and Bishop went very well together. Too well. "Someone's been asking questions, I see."
"That's exactly the funny thing – I wasn't, yet I still got answers," she raised her brows. "But, well, no harm in finding out something about a person whom I entrust leading me and my companions through deadly forests."
"Reasonable," he nodded, unruffled. "So, what did you find out?"
"…Nothing pretty, to tell honest."
"I bet," the ranger smirked, lowering his lids a little, making it impossible to read his eyes. "Let's have a stroll along the Sword Coast, come across some more wenches I was unfortunate to fuck, listen to them. Maybe the gnome will write a book, all sad and sobby. What's next?"
I don't know… Damn, why did I even come?
Oh, you know why, - the voice inside cooed.
…No way.
"Next…" she drawled, doing her best to make her voice sound even, "I want to listen to your side of the story. I have more reasons to trust you than her."
"Honored," neither his tone, nor his face changed.
"So what happened?"
"We travelled together. Then I left."
"…And that's it?"
"Yeah," smirk flashed back to place, sharp and crooked, making it hard to get if he was glad or furious about something. "You asked for my side of the story, didn't you. She is a fool. What's worse, she's a completely useless fool. It's hard to respect someone who makes stupid decisions. And when you don't respect someone – you leave. Simple as that."
Adele stifled a swallow, her throat dry and suddenly scratchy, and jerked her head a bit higher: "Is that what we'll get?"
"If I lose respect in you – you better believe it."
"…Honest as always, aren't you."
"I am what I am," the ranger shrugged indifferently, starting to slowly pick out his nails with the tip of the dagger.
Adele watched him for some moments, until finally gave up: "You aren't even interested in what she said?"
"Nah, I'm not a curious type. Curiosity kills, they say."
"Is that a hint?"
His glance flickered to her, but the knife didn't stop. "Perhaps."
She cleared her throat, "Listen, Bishop, I'll be blunt – I'm not gathering information on you. To tell honest, I don't give a damn about what happened or is happening to you. Your life is your life, whatever problems you might have…"
"I don't have any problems," he smirked. "You are the one with problems here, princess. So if I were you, I would be careful not to quarrel with those on your side."
Adele felt any nervousness she had being slowly drowned in rising anger. Is he threatening me? After everything son of a bitch has the gall to threaten me?
"I'm not quarrelling with anyone," she ground out. "Unlike you. As a result, it's me who is being cornered and told that Bishop in his spare time likes to catch Luskans in the woods and torture them, which is damn annoying, mind you."
"Ah, that's what she said," the ranger tilted his head to the side, suddenly appearing – of all things - amused. "So?"
"…So it's true."
"If yes, then?"
"…What have they done to you exactly?"
"Told you already – just had enough of them."
"And that's it?"
"Pretty much."
"Enough to torture them?" Adele shook her head. "Guess there's something I don't get in this life."
He snorted: "A lot, if your ask me. But don't worry, princess, you are pretty enough to allow yourself being stupid sometimes."
Adele closed her eyes, stopping herself from getting furious. "This all would have been fun, Bishop, if I didn't have a number of people who had agreed to lend their hand and their head to help me out. Their lives and well-being I am responsible for. And whether you like it or not, whether I like it or not – you are one of those people," she looked back straight at him. His face was impenetrable. "So if you have some score with Luskan, if there's some bounty on your damned head – I need to know. At least for the sake of not presuming that a bunch of shady guys coming to the 'Flagon' looking for you are just your fellow-smugglers and pointing at your room."
His eyes narrowed, studying her. Adele guessed that this time he was trying to get whether she was threatening him.
"Because I need you," she finished. "Alive."
Of course, there was no sensible reason why he should have even cared. Apart from the reason that she wanted him to. But that was anything but sensible.
Corner of his mouth twitched in a crooked smirk: "Breathe out, princess. No one's going to look for me, I made sure of that. They think I'm dead."
"…So what's the problem, then? And why do you hate them so much?"
"I don't hate them. I wouldn't waste that much effort on them. They just have that… air that makes you want to hurt them. Badly," chink of a smirk became more obvious, more knowing… "Don't you think?"
Do I?
There was only one answer to that, one right answer, but he gave her no possibility to voice it:
"Let's say I'm just giving the bastards the taste of their own doings. Got sick of them enough during my time in Luskan, now getting my venting – and as sure as Hells don't see why I shouldn't. That's how things work for me - I go where I want, kill who I want, do what I want. And only like that. Malin didn't get that. Luskans didn't get that," he was all but grinning now. "And someone's stupidity always brings up an asshole in me."
He was lying. He had to be lying, otherwise, even half-drunk, Adele couldn't wrap her mind around it.
"…You are colder than I thought," she muttered.
Bishop snorted again, still looking at her, unblinking. "Hope so. And trust me, you haven't seen my depths yet," as she didn't answer, he lowered his gaze back to his hand, picking out the last nail. "And whatever Malin said… just words. She never knew me," slightly narrowed eyes glanced at her briefly. "And neither will you."
"I'm not… for gods sake, I'm not trying to question you or something, I just want to understand-"
Bishop let out a short ragged laugh, cutting her off. "Come on, princess, knock it off already. I'm neither blind nor stupid, so happened. And I had my eyeful of how you schooled others. So the trick is not going to work."
Adele shook her head, baffled: "…Sorry?"
"Why, a special face for everyone, a certain smile, precisely the needed words to say…" he cocked his head to his shoulder again. "Soon even the elven smartass will dance to the melody you whistle. Don't think I blame you, no. Considering he was so obviously instructed to keep an eye on you…"
"…Gods, what are you talking about?" she whispered, staring at him unbelievingly.
"About the things I see. Have to admit, even kind of curious what it was you hooked the druidess with, so that she left behind her beloved Mere."
"I never hooked anyone with anything! She's just trying to get what's happening and what it has to do with that silver—"
"Really?" he smirked. "Then why can't she take her eyes off you? She doesn't seem to care for anyone in the world apart from you and those that happen to be close to you at the moment."
"…You are nuts," Adele concluded. "Hands down."
"Am I?" he folded his arms on his chest, his head still tilted, making his gaze even more belittling and derisive. "It seems I gave too much credit to your observancy and wit. But just think about what they can, those druids… watching through the eyes of animals, listening through the land… In your shoes I would be much more wary of her than of me."
"Appreciate your concern," Adele grated through set teeth, "but I prefer trusting people. At least can have a decent sleep at night."
He pushed himself off the wall and leaned towards her, holding her gaze. "Well, in that case both you and your buddies are all going to die together someday, and it will be from the blind following the blind," the ranger quirked an eyebrow nonchalantly. "Not that I care…"
Adele threw her hands up in frustration: "Then why in the Hells are you even with us?"
"Am I?" Bishop flinched and tucked his knife in the waistband of his breeches, getting up from the bed and coming up to the table - to where a wicker bottle stood. Adele was forced to throw her head a bit back, so that the brims of her hat didn't shade her view. "You know why I'm along. Your uncle called his debt due," with his thumb he pushed the cork off the bottle, filling the nearby glass with muddy-brown ale. "And that's that."
"You could have said 'no'," Adele said, following the glass with her eyes.
"Couldn't," he cut off, staring into space, and for a moment bared his teeth in a snarl before dropping the whole glass of liquid into his mouth. Licking his lips, he measured Adele with a brisk glare. "And you know it."
"Oh, please," she hissed scornfully. "To Luskan and back, that was the deal. Afterwards no one forced you last time I checked. It was your decision to work with us in the end. Had fun, you said."
He chuckled, a cold rusty sound that seemed to physically scratch down her spinal nerve. "You never got it, did you? You are just the lesser of two evils. By joining you I made sure that your pitiful excuse of a relative won't even think about opening his damned mouth about me owning him something whenever it's convenient for him. Never again," he narrowed his eyes at her, his face as snide as he could make it. "You should know by now how much people like holding on to their leashes, squire."
"What in the Nine Hells do you owe him that much? What, you got drunk and set fire to his rafters too?"
"Come now," he smirked wryly. "You can be funnier when you want. And don't worry, as long as I can get my free share of your uncle's booze, earn my money on you and have an excuse to kill someone, I can put up with your family blackmail. For now, at least."
"..."
He refilled the glass: "Got any more stupid questions? Or can I finally get back to sleep?"
…Son of a bitch… Can't even believe I'm trying to defend him, jumping to his side like a fool, like a…
…a she-wolf in mating season… - her inner voice finished smoothly.
She threw her hand forward, snatching the glass from his fingers, and drained it in one gulp.
"Nice," Bishop grouched. "Now she'll be sitting here and tanking up, our poor offended girl."
Adele put the glass back on the table, carefully, resisting the urge to simply crash it. "I'm not offended," she muttered levelly, not looking at him. "I'm angry."
"Then go and ask the dwarf to organize a brawl for you."
"With whom, with you?"
Bishop rolled his eyes. "Again it's all my fault. Now it is my fault she dragged herself here in the middle of the night, woke me up and started clawing my guts out."
"I'm not… clawing anything! Dammit, I just want to trust you, alright? Come on, ranger, help me here! But no, instead you constantly piss me off!"
"Now there's a surprise. Usually people adore me."
"Well, fuck, that was one cruel sarcasm – seeing as I'm, probably, the only one who would've bothered to… 'drag herself here' and… bother."
"Sounds like your problem."
"Gods, so what, now I must apologize for trying?"
He stared her down with obvious contempt. "You must sleep it through, you drunken fool."
"There! There you go again. What the Hells, Bishop? Why are you constantly trying to insult me? For what? For actually giving a damn whether you live or not?"
The ranger shook his head. "Must be some kind of Farlongs' family disease, giving a damn whether I live or not. Cool down, princess. I'm great. And will be great, no matter what. So I don't need all your ballads of eternal friendship and unending support. You can save them for the demon. She's already too much like a street kitten that'd been kicked and scalded with boiling water for her whole life – so the first one to stroke is the love of her life."
"Watch what you say about my friends, ranger."
"Just the truth, princess."
"No, it isn't truth, it's…" she flailed her hands helplessly, "…it's some kind of turned inside out truth, some other side of it, hideous and…"
"But the truth nonetheless," he flinched. "Damn you, princess, the moment I start thinking you actually have some levelheaded sense in you – you just need to come and prove me wrong."
"Well, seeing how you are enjoying proving me wrong all the time, why can't I give a shot? Since you love the truth so much! Or is the truth only what you are saying – and everything else is just drunken nonsense of a stupid swampwench?" You are flying off the handle, girly. - Shut up. "Oh, and the demon has a name, by the way. Neeshka. And the druidess has a name, too – it's Elanee. And guess what, even the gnome has a name!"
"Oooh", Bishop rolled his eyes. "Who cares?"
"Everyone does! Because there are many demons, druids and gnomes in the world. But there's only one Neeshka. One Elanee. And one Grobnar."
"Touching as all Hells."
Her eyes narrowed. "…Screw you, ranger."
"What, I pissed you off again? How? By not entering your Order of the Shining Soul? Well, forgive me, but I don't want to. And I don't do what I don't want to. Keep that in mind – and we'll get along just fine. And if you are not comfortable with it," he presented her with a twisted sneer, "then I don't give a shit."
The woman gritted her teeth, taking a breath, and waved him off. "Great. Fine. Whatever. Forget we even had this conversation."
"Already have."
"Wonderful," she rose from the chair. "What do I care, really. I'm out of here."
"Why, have a seat," the ranger shoved her back, and Adele winced as the chair bottom hit her under the knees, making her legs buckle. She dropped to the stool with enough force to make it sway under her. "We were just getting to know each other."
"I don't give a damn about you."
"Ah, look, now she doesn't," he chuckled. "What if I take offence?"
"You won't - you are emotionally dead. You opened my eyes, thank you. Don't even know how I could… why I…" she tossed her head in irritation. "Shouldn't have come. I regret it already. Gloat if you like."
"Oh I may, may I?" Bishop leaned towards her, propping his one hand on the table and the other – on the back of her chair, making Adele draw back on impulse. He smirked at her backing off, golden laughing sparks filling his eyes. "Why are we suddenly so nervous? You came here by yourself, all alone."
"Don't flatter yourself," she spat out, folding her arms. "I'm not afraid of you."
"I'm not saying you are. But you never even thought how it might look like," he leaned closer, carnivorous smirk still curving his lips, gleams of candlelight dancing in his pupils, making them look like they were melting. "Careful, princess, someone may decide we are lovers."
She couldn't hold back a snort. "No one in their sane mind will decide something like that."
"Seeing that for the most time you and I are the only ones in their sane mind around… Rumors might appear. Your uncle will get upset. And we don't want to upset him," he lifted his brow mockingly, bringing himself even closer, and whispered: "Or do we?"
Adele knew that if she leaned back further, the chair would have to balance on two legs, unstable, dangerous… but she did, slowly, smiling at the ranger's lewdness. Tossing back and forth suggestive banalities with him was a known ground, familiar and almost welcomed in its risk – at least, more welcomed than diving deeper.
"And why do I have a feeling you'll keep bringing my uncle up for the nearest fifty years at the very least?" she murmured softly.
"You need to live that long to find out, princess – and you are not coping well so far."
She smiled again, coldly, relaxing her back against the chair. Go ahead, bastard, closer – and my knee will get precisely to where you don't want it to be.
"We'll see," she purred, hooding her eyes.
Bishop did move closer, just a bit, and Adele smiled wider, throwing up her bended leg. But the ranger – catching sight of her starting movement or guessing it was to come beforehand – slammed his hand over her thigh, stopping the kick.
"So you like it rough, little princess?" he growled, his voice gradually loosing vocal sound at every word, turning to that already familiar metal-like rustle that made her skin crawl. "Or just so damn sure nothing ever happens to you?"
With the other hand, lightning-quick, he grabbed her belt with the scabbard, tearing it off and tossing away, at the same time drawing her leg aside and dropping to his knees. It all happened so fast that before Adele even knew she was left unarmed and trapped against the chair with Bishop between her hips, his eyes still boring deeply into hers.
"…Damn," she breathed out, staring at him wide-eyed and unable to get rid of the grin frozen on her face.
"Ah, what's the matter?" he mocked, taking hold of both her legs under the knees to pull the woman off the chair, to which she clutched so hard her fingers ached.
"Let me go," she demanded through clenched teeth, without any luck trying to free her legs from his hold.
"Why would I."
"I'm not sleeping with you."
"That's right, princess," he purred softly, giving up attempts at dragging her to the floor, instead leaning forward again, gripping the back of the chair and nearly flatting the woman against it with his body. She wasn't sure if it was the force of his drive that left her breathless – or his voice so close to her ear: "You ain't sleeping with me."
She drew in a lungful of air, gaping into space, the only thought hammering in her scull (he won't dare, he won't dare, hewontdare!) shattered mercilessly as the ranger threw off her hat and tore down the wattled leather stripe holding her hair, letting all of it come down to her shoulders in one tangled mass. Adele hissed, jerking away from his face burrowing into her neck, but to no avail, shuddering at his triumphant chuckle sizzling over her skin.
You are so screwed, darling.
Literally.
And don't say you didn't have it coming.
Letting go of the chair, she punched her hands into Bishop's chest to push him away, clumsily, her fingers slipping on his bare skin, only drawing an approving grumble from the bastard right into her neck. She shut her eyes, doing her best not to groan, and forced her palms to move, hating the trickling wish to pause on every inch, to feel every damned scar that got under her fingertips, instead making her way lower, a bit to the right, hoping only he had forgotten…
He hadn't, as she sensed him stop, tense, his arm shifting to intercept her hand – but she won this round, able to snatch the handle of the knife he had left tucked into his waistband, drawing the blade free without bothering if she cut him or no and threw all her weight on him, dropping the ranger to his back, and straddled him with his knife at his throat. He lifted his chin slightly, not taking narrowed darkened eyes from her face, his own expression motionless, fixed, but she saw his Adam's-apple rise and fall as he swallowed.
Adele smiled.
"No."
His lips twitched in a wry smirk. "Wanted to be on top?" his hands, still lying on her legs, slid up from the knees. "Could've just said."
"What I said is 'no'. Or are you deaf?"
"No, I'm not, that's the thing," the thumbs took a bit different direction, tracing the inner sides of her thighs. "And I have a secret for you, princess. Sometimes you talk in your sleep."
It was her turn to swallow. Adele tightened the grip on the blade, to hide that her fingers were shaking.
Bishop sniggered vengefully. "Now there's a stupid face."
"Shut up," she growled.
"Or what?"
She pushed the knife into his neck, pressing the skin, making him throw his head back, but not enough to take his eyes away from hers. In return his palms squeezed her thighs harder, thumbs drawing lazy circles on the inner sides, higher, higher…
"Come now, princess," he all but purred. "You are curious. Besides, you might as well get hanged pretty soon – and I won't even get a possibility to see the famous scar."
Her mouth cringed in-between a smile and a grimace. "Need to remind myself to write my last will – that you are not to be allowed to my corpse and that I want to be cremated."
"Ah, and here comes her tongue, as sharp and merciless as her cold silver heart."
"…Shut up," she breathed out soundlessly, for a second averting her eyes from his.
That second was enough. His hand shot up to the knife, shackling around her wrist and wrenching it away, fingers digging right into the bite marks he knew were there, with force enough to make her squeak. Another arm wrapped around the woman, pushing her off of him to the floor, followed by Bishop himself when he rolled over, crushing her under him and letting go of her waist to catch her free hand, hitching up both her palms over her head. Adele tried to squirm away, but his hold was sure, his strength far greater than hers, enough for him to gather both her wrists in one hand, and she only snarled when his fingers worked her fist open.
"It's my knife," he whispered, taking the dagger from her undone grasp, and suddenly thrust it into the planks of the floor just near her shoulder, almost making her start. His burning eyes were half-lidded, and Adele couldn't quite decipher what was in them – desire or hatred. Perhaps, it was both. "I don't like it when people touch my things, princess."
"Oh, do forgive me," she hissed, doing her best to recover her breath and break free.
He praised her feeble attempts with another condescending smirk, his free hand going over her hair, her cheek, tip of his finger brushing firmly over her lips…
"I think I'll console myself quite quickly."
"Quickly?" she couldn't help but sneer up at him. "My, I knew there are many reasons why I don't want to. Maybe you don't even need me for that?"
He chuckled, shudder of his chest ricocheting through her body. "You are stupid, aren't you, brave little girl?"
"Or maybe I just don't tumble with smugglers."
"Now why?" his grip on her wrists tightened. "Too good, eh?"
Adele gnashed her teeth, making another spurt to yank her hands free, but still in vain – only her skin started to ache in his hold. Under her jerkin the tunic clung to sweated skin, breathing was becoming harder and harder to work out, as if the air had to force it's way through debris in her throat and lungs, the weight of the ranger's body was doing no good as well.
"Let me go," she grated.
"If you want out so badly, why don't you simply scream, hmm?" his quiet voice seemed to seep into her very pores.
Damn… Why don't I?
Oh, for the same reasons he didn't hit you, didn't shut your mouth, didn't tie you or something – even though he can, - Adele never though that the inner voice could have actual breathing as well. – Because all of those ruin the duel.
And if I scream – he wins?
"So?" Bishop quirked his eyebrow slightly, the candlelight rimming his skin and hair with copper. "I'm sure your paladin would hear your screams even from another plane, rush in and quarter me on spot."
"He's not my paladin," the woman replied hoarsely. "He's his own."
"Aw," another scoffing smirk twisted his face. "A nerve there, eh?"
"…Just let me go," her voice was totally gone.
"Why?"
"Because I ask you to."
Bishop grinned. "What, you thought you can come in the middle of the night, wake the man, stir him up and then simply leave?" he clicked his tongue in mock disapproval. "Such women have a name, princess."
"Those men that force a woman to the floor have a name as well," she smiled thinly. "But I forgive you. Let me go."
"Now, now, don't be so quick," his raised his brows scornfully, still smirking. "Maybe it'll encourage me to become a better man."
"I highly doubt that human nature can be changed that easily."
"You know humans so well, don't you… you half-breed?"
"…Oh great, I forgot you are a racist on top of everything."
"I am what I am. On top of you."
His hand traced her neck, collarbone, cleavage, stomach, leg, and the shivers on her skin tamely followed his fingers…
He'll dare... He'll dare anything just to prove whatever the Hells he thinks he should...
"What?" she croaked. "Even no kissy-kissy for the sake of pretence on decency?"
Bishop smirked, running his tongue over the inner side of his bottom lip, hard enough to point out the tiny scar there - scar she had given him back in the Duskwood - and Adele only growled in disappointment.
"I learn my lessons," he muttered.
Adele never thought she would find herself envying Qara. It would have been so sweet, indeed, just to blast him with enough force to spew his pieces all over the walls. But since her own skills were limited only to her, she had to get out another way.
The woman cleared her throat, trying not to pay attention to his hand that drew a circle over her bended knee and moved up her tight again, this time from the inner side.
"Stop it, Bishop…" she whispered softly, even managing to squeeze out a nervous smile. "Please, it's ridiculous. You are just angry, annoyed, I... I understand," his eyes narrowed - whether in resentment or amusement, she couldn't tell. "I shouldn't have come and pestered you, I know. I'm sorry. Really. I just… just had one drink too many… Or two. Or three," her voice broke, eyes snapping wide, as she realized that the hand indeed didn't meant to stop. "No, you…! Come on, you won't rape a woman just because she…!"
Adele never finished, as the sharp, nearly painful spasm of pleasure cramped her whole body, arching it to meet the ranger's fingers, her eyes rolling closed, all the words tumbling and merging into one hoarse groan…
"Will I have to?" Bishop murmured.
Damn, he knows what he's doing, - inner voice cooed, nothing but a purring puddle somewhere in the far corner of her mind. – And he's doing it good.
"I hate you," she breathed out, unable to open her eyes.
"Don't give a crap," he answered just as quietly, burying his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, and Adele had to bit hard into her lip not to whimper when his hand resumed its moving, slowly making its way under her jerkin, towards the strings holding her breeches...
For gods sake, this is stupid. Just stupid... What do I do?
You? You don't have to do anything, he'll do it all...
She was suddenly aware that Bishop had let her wrists go for the sake of sliding his arm under her waist, lifting her slightly off the floor - but it didn't help her in any way, because even being free her hands were still out of her control. Instead of grabbing the ranger's head and twisting until his neck breaks, they fumbled helplessly over the floor, her fingers trembling, grasping air, crawling, touching something...
Adele opened her eyes, realizing she tapped the thrown away scabbard-belt. Metal coldness of her rapier's hilt sobered her up a bit, and the woman gripped it tighter, using her fingertips to push off the sheath, while her other hand slithered into Bishop's hair.
"Let me go," she whispered once again, lastly, smirking, this time almost wishing he would not.
His answer were his teeth closing on her skin right between her neck and shoulder, biting softly into flesh, and Adele felt her lids growing heavy again, crawling over her eyes, her legs nearly aching from the wish... the need to wrap around his hips...
Clenching her fist in his hair, she yanked his head back, at the same moment sliding the blade under his chin, placing it firmly between herself and his throat. It took him a moment to focus his gaze on her face, eyes burning, seeming almost inflamed, and she grinned, realizing that no way in the Nine Hells could he possibly be unaffected by his own game. For several heartbeats they were just staring at each other, both breathings equally haggard, until a familiar twisted smirk slowly made its way back to Bishop's lips.
"You bitch," he whispered.
"I am," she agreed evenly. "When I'm forced to."
"What, you can simply kill an unarmed man?"
She glared up at him, the weight of his body still pinning her to the floor, all the disgusting absurdity of what was going on just a moment before finally reaching her fogged brain. "For something like this? Easily."
Smirk became wider, gloating. "Now that would have added grey hairs to my head, if only for a second I believed all your 'let's all be friends' crap".
"I'm good towards people - until they are begging for otherwise."
"And how again had I displeased Your Highness?" smirk turned to a sneer. "Almost made you come?"
"Let go!"
He loosened his grip on her, and Adele slowly crawled out from under him, keeping her blade ready and trying not to pay attention how cold was the air after his body's heat. Bishop sat, elbowing lazily on his knees, still aroused, still breathing heavily, but none of it stopped him from watching the woman picking up her hat and hair fillet, her suspicious gaze firmly on him.
"Very well," she took a deep breath, taking several steps to the door, back first, and placed her free hand over the knob. "And now I'm going to the corridor - and Karnwyr will not jump on me. Right?"
"How should I know? Take a try."
Pursing her lips, Adele flung the door open, and the wolf immediately dashed inside, almost knocking her down on his way to his master. Chuckling, Bishop ruffled Karnwyr's fur and got up to his feet, heading towards Adele. She backed off from the room, further into comforting and somewhat secure muffled noise coming from downstairs, and lifted her blade again.
"Just want to close the door after you, princess," he snorted.
"How should I know?"
Bishop nodded, propping his hand against the doorframe. "See? Now you are learning. Wasn't that hard, was it."
His face was back to its usual deadpan derisive expression, as if nothing happened, as if he simply accomplished some trivial goal, not had a woman running away from under him in the worst time possible.
How the Hells is he doing it? Why better than me?
The ranger cocked his head to the side: "Weren't you leaving, hmm?"
Adele lifted her chin stubbornly: "Feeling gracious today - so give you an opportunity to apologize."
"For what?"
"Oh, you know, it's kind of traditional to apologize for nearly breaking arms of a defenseless woman."
He flinched with a chuckle. "Come now. You are as defenseless as a rattlesnake. It was me who nearly got his throat sliced twice - for the first time even with my own knife. So don't give me this offended shit, I'm not buying."
She shook her head, slowly. "Really, is there any reason I should not finish what I started and kill you?"
"That you may fail? And you are not that stupid as to think I'll give you another chance, are you," he dropped his shoulder to the door-post, folding his arms. "Princess, you know the reason of your anger as well as I do. At least, I have faith in your brain to that extend. So if by chance you'll finally get tired of rearing up at my every word and decide to relax - you know where to find me."
Adele smiled thinly, taking another step away from the door. "Aw, you sweet lovely, to trouble yourself over me so much. I'll keep it in mind, of course, but I simply can't bring myself to burden you so. But if you suddenly decide to... don't know... bring some tea to the girl, say for a change something pleasant and encouraging - you know where to find me."
"I prefer set prices in gold."
"Yeah, I, too, always thought that a woman is worth exactly the price she asks for herself."
He grinned: "In other words, you are worth a cup of tea and a couple of bullshit sweetnesses? I'm even disappointed."
"No, it's how much my gratitude is worth. Isn't it nice to know a woman can be grateful to you?" her smile turned icy. "And not even faking it to earn your coin."
Bishop chuckled again, this time approving. "Nice one. Maybe you and the elf are actually going to make it through the whole trial blabbing."
"...Maybe?"
"Yeah, maybe."
"Well, thanks for that at least. Any support from you is already an ecstasy. Good night. Sorry again for disturbing your sleep," she allowed herself another snide smile. "It'll never happen again, I promise," Adele arched her brow. "Any more harsh truths of life I should know?"
He looked like he wanted to answer something, like another caustic response was already on the tip of his tongue - but instead paused, looking at her strangely. Then - he laughed, quietly, as if unwittingly, sending shivers down her back. It was such a rare thing, his sincere laughter, that it just had to put her on guard.
"What?" Adele demanded.
"Nothing," he swallowed another chuckle, but kept smiling. "You just have Hells know what on your head right now."
The woman gnashed her teeth. "Thank you for pointing that out."
"You asked," he shrugged, squinting one eye to appraise her. "Makes you look like infuriated skunk."
Adele stared at him mutely for several heartbeats, then spread her hands helplessly: "And what was that, can you tell me? Ah, no, no need, I remembered. It was the truth," her eyes narrowed. "Thank you so much again."
"Anytime," he smirked. "Always a pleasure."
And shut the door.
Adele screwed her eyes, keeping herself from kicking the door, turned around sharply and took off, her hand on instinct going to her hair to sleek it.
Yeeees, that was one mighty talk, - the voice inside quipped supportively.
She winced, quickening her stride for her thoughts not to catch up with her, every step brisk and hard enough to nearly leave a hole in the floor. Reaching her room, the woman locked the door behind her and, without lighting a candle, started to undress hastily, inwardly muttering all known curses - and even inventing new ones on the way. Tearing the clothes down, she kicked it all to the nearest chair in one messy bundle, taking a step towards her bed - but stopped, glaring at her reflection in the dark glass of the window. Truly, there was Hells know what on her head. Tousled hair, that hateful white-and-black mane that indeed made her look like infuriated skunk, fell freely down her naked shoulders and back. In the darkness her pale skin was nearly glowing white, making her narrowed dark-blue eyes look like empty black crevices on her face, veiled with anger, annoyance... and something else. Something that she didn't feel like admitting.
She not only felt - she saw the goosebumps rising on her skin. Goosebumps caused by the chilly air in the unused room... or by the memory of his hands over her.
It was never like this. Never. With all the men she ever had, be that for one night or several, it was nice. Sometimes sweet. Sometimes passionate. Feisty. Alluring. Even adventurous. But never like this. Never with the feeling of her mere blood-vessels melting in the scorching blood, with her breathing hitching so badly it was close to sobs, with the pulse pounding so hard in the temples her mind was wavering, with her heart trying to hammer its way through her chest...
Never like this. And she used to be damn proud of it. Even in the most heated moments something inside always kept cool. Detached. Uninvolved. Almost not-here. Almost... Daeghun.
But even Daeghun had been married… So, perhaps, no one can keep a cold head all the time…
No, - she cut off firmly, her fingers without her knowing scratching over the ugly white line that sliced its crooked way through the underside of her left breast, fading only between the ribs. - Not because of him. Not at his ground.
Maybe Bishop was right when saying that a half-elf always wants to prove something...
Bishop seems to be right too often, no?
Her hand fell from her chest, hanging limply along her side.
When did it happen? When exactly was the cursed moment the bloody bastard's opinion suddenly started to matter?
It doesn't. Don't be silly, Delly. No one's opinion ever mattered. In the long run, no one ever mattered. And he doesn't either.
Yet here she was, staring at her own reflection, pale naked figure shivering in the frame of the window sash. Shivering not because of cold, no...
...because some foolish crazy part of her wanted him to come, to bash the door in, grab her, now, without any ammunition, clothes, without any weapon she'd be tempted to use, and take her - on the floor, on the bed, on the table, on the windowsill, on any other surface in the world - to break that damned pride of hers over his knee, to let it out of her like one would let bad blood out of the infested wound...
I'm going insane, ain't I?
…
I'm just drunk. And hadn't got laid in some time. That's that.
With much effort, but Adele finally made herself look away and sank to the bed, worming under the blanket, wrapping it firmly around her body.
Funny. One glance at the guy's naked chest, and I have a full-head crush, - closing her eyes, she snorted quietly. - And here I honestly thought I was deeper than that...
He heard her leaving.
With his forehead pressed to the door, his eyes closed, he heard her every step. Even without seeing it, by the mere sound, Bishop could picture her walking. Stamping her feet as if trying to dig her heels into the ground. That furious sharp angle to her left brow. Rigid line of pursed thin lips. Small tight dimples on her cheeks.
He didn't even realize how well he studied her by now.
Small wonder, though. Idiot is the hunter who thinks he can succeed without knowing the terrain and the prey perfectly.
And it was the hunter in him that couldn't listen idly to the sound of his game leaving, urged him to follow, to chase, to overtake, to corner... and what? Fuck her? Kill her? Fuck her, then kill her? Kill her, then fuck her?
At this point, all variants seemed equally tempting.
Turning away from the door, Bishop leaned his back to it and slowly dropped to sit on the floor, not trying to open his eyes just yet. It was enough that his face muscles seemed to grow numb from keeping straight expression, although the twitching tic in his cheek was already threatening to break through.
It's been awhile he had been this furious. And didn't enjoy it in the slightest. Of course, he knew the bitch was cheeky beyond her scrawny ass, but for her to poke her nose to where it didn't belong so bluntly, even to have the balls to come and question him... somehow he didn't consider it.
Were too busy considering that scrawny ass in your hands, eh?
Bishop cringed, slowly shifting his jaw, even strangely enjoying the sound of his teeth gradually scratching against each other. The feeling was reflective of his mood, after all. He made a slip, a mistake, and had no one else to blame but himself. Hunted, yes, but she was no dumb animal – with people there was always a possibility they would try to learn the hunter as well.
It seemed that in the perfect planned tie 'him-her-Duncan' he had to pay more attention to the 'her' part.
He smirked.
Perhaps he had gone too far tonight. Still, he knew the wench would hardly involve someone else in it. She had too much pride to swallow to admit she couldn't handle something coming her way, so she won't open her mouth to any of her 'buddies'. Which, to think about it, was for his benefit. The more little 'secrets' he shared with her, the better. After all, she did come to him already. Alone. Without wanting anyone to know. So it seemed he made some progress.
Soothed enough, he opened his eyes, glancing at Karnwyr. The wolf stood motionless, only turned his head slightly as he tentatively sniffed the air. Bishop knew that, concentrating enough, he would be able to feel the echo of smells through his companion's senses - but he didn't even need to. It was still on his skin. Scent of sour mist and hazelnut, so much sharper from both her anger and arousal.
If only she knew how good she looked – and felt - when angered... With blood flushing her pale skin, darkened eyes, pupils dilated so much they almost took over her iris, curved parted lips, breasts heaving in breathing, hair flying around her face… Made him wonder if she looked much different when fucking. Not that it was hard to imagine, with her long lithe snake-like body writhing under him...
Bishop took a breath, letting the air out in a grim chuckle. She had no idea how close he had been to losing it. After all, he was no saint when it came to raping women. Back in Luskan, sent on numerous tracking jobs to find and bring back some escapee, after days of traipsing through the wilds on those forced and therefore hateful chases, finally catching up with his target and finding it to be female... Surely, he had always been strictly forbidden to apply any everlasting physical damage to the target – which pretty much left him with the only option of paying her back for all the trouble she had brought him. It had nothing to do with lust, ever, just a mean of relieving his frustration by breaking down someone else, something he had long since replaced with using his carving, threading and skinning skills on Luskans themselves...
And it was exactly this that left him furious. That with just a bunch of questions and her fucking stubbornness the bitch managed to push him to the same line. The feeling he thought he had got rid off.
I swear, one day you'll sweat senseless paying it all off, princess…
Karnwyr frowned at him, probably at the expression of his face. Bishop smirked again, reaching out to mess the wolf's fur.
"Just need to play our cards more carefully from now on, boy," he murmured. "Wouldn't want Duncan's sweet darling off the hook, eh?"
The wolf sniffed indifferently, trotting off towards the empty bed and leaping on it, intending to take advantage of a soft place while he could. The ranger's smirk widened at the memory of his companion tearing into the girl's arm. Hadn't stopped her. It seemed that opposition only strengthened her resolve.
You are not the only one in it, princess.
But for now he had more pressing issues, in all senses. His body demanded release, and he surely didn't feel like working it out single-handedly. Yet if his guesses about a couple of women downstairs were correct, he wouldn't have to.
Still, even that would have to wait – he had another big-mouthed pointy-eared bitch to track down.
Then again, - he mulled over, getting up and reaching for his clothes and gear, - I might always make both ends meet there.
"Don't get too comfortable," he warned Karnwyr, tugging on his tunic and clasping the sword-belt around his waist. The wolf just rolled his eyes, turning to the side and stretching out his legs in bliss. "…Asshole."
…Bishop made his way to the hall quickly, nearly jogging down the stairs. As much as he calmed himself outwardly, inside his blood still raged, whipping him up. He didn't have to go much further, thankfully, spotting his target already there, near the exit, talking to the innkeeper. Full-dressed, full-armored. Fleeing, like a gutless rat she was.
"Checking out already, Malin?" he wondered, coming up to her from behind. She didn't jump, had more nerve than that, but it was no small satisfaction seeing her back growing rigid, as if expecting a stab any moment. "So soon?"
"…It's never too soon," she muttered, keeping her tone neutral, without turning to him even when he propped himself against the table with one arm right at her side. "What do you want, Bishop?"
"From you? Me? Of course nothing," he smirked at the half-elf's frozen profile, his eyes swiftly travelling over her cheekbone, ear, down the neck. It was stuffy in the tavern, so she kept her armour unclasped at the throat. Stupid. "But I might know someone who does."
She shot him one glance, unbelieving, suspicious.
"Come now, Malin, with Moire gone, I don't think you are in position to throw away job offers."
She didn't change in the face, still guarded: "Why would you be so generous?"
Bishop allowed himself a meaningful sneer: "Well, since I'm already… engaged in many interesting activities by my current… employer, I can't take the offer. But got to keep some old contacts and all. Unless, of course, you screw it up. But I have faith that you are not that incompetent. No one is."
The half-blood didn't answer at once, regarding him with the same mistrust – but, at least, regarding. Never thought I can be useful to you, eh, before ratting me out at every stop?
"Somehow I doubt that anything coming from you is of any interest to me," she concluded, picking up her bag and heading for the door.
"Come on, Malin," he nearly begged, following her between the tables. Her limping was faint, but there. Wounded left shin. Just below the knee. The gloves were tucked in her belt, which meant she'd put them on outside - and thus keep her both hands occupied. Hells, girl, and I thought years had taught you something… "Help me out. For the sake of good-old times."
She snorted, pushing the door into the crisp windy night, the air heavy and moist with the sky swelling with the upcoming rain. "Whoever said that time with you was good?"
Bishop chuckled, not bothered by the chill biting into his skin through the tunic and pants. More so, he almost welcomed it. Some cooling down was good. "Funny. I remember you did. Not just saying, but whispering, groaning, yelling…"
She didn't turn, but he could almost hear the gnashing of her teeth, as she quickened her pace down the stairs, into the alley, away from the torchlight, reaching for her gloves…
"I don't wan-"
It didn't take much - a boot to her damaged leg, sweeping her up before she fell, one hold just below the ribcage to squeeze the air out of her and to pin both her arms before she could grab her short sword, the other hand shoving away the quiver and the bag off her back, going to the throat. She tried to elbow him in the stomach, of course, but froze stark still as she felt his fingers pressing into her carotid.
"Shh," Bishop forced her back to his chest, his gaze quickly sweeping over the alley, not wasting his time to look at her face. The frantic pulse under his fingertips told him all he wanted to know.
She felt his inspecting and, deciding he was occupied, tried to squirm away. Bishop cringed, hitting her hard in the temple with his jaw.
"Don't piss me off, Malin," he growled, dragging her deeper into the shadows. "You did a great job of that already."
She took a deep breath, clasps of her leathers scraping over his arm as she did. The pulse race didn't cease, though. Bishop could smell her fear, acrid on her skin.
Nothing like the heady fury the swampwench exuded. A shame.
"So what do you want now?" she tried sounding cold and demanding – except that the artery couldn't lie.
"Now?" he clasped his hand a bit tighter around her throat. "Now you'll explain me something, Malin. Tell me, what did I do to you exactly, hmm? Killed you? Crippled you? Or whatever it was that gave you the right to go around pestering my present company with your opinion on me?"
Her neck tightened for a moment of realization. Bishop smirked in the darkness.
"Should have suspected she would tell you right away," the girl whispered with a bitter chuckle. "Should have known you have her wrapped around your finger already."
"Not yet, sweetheart, but I'm working on it. And you are surely not helping."
"Who is she? What do you want from her?"
"Doesn't matter," his voice dropped to whisper as well, as he lowered his head to her ear, running the tip of his nose over its lobe. "Guess I just have a sweet tooth for you, half-breeds."
She shivered - but instead of finding it exciting, he felt only disgust. It was a shiver of fright again, weak and revolting, her body limp and quavering in his grasp. All the thoughts he entertained about bedding her were gone in an instant. Just imagining this jellyfish lying under him like a corpse was enough for bile to rise in his throat.
Besides, she was a known territory. He long since explored her every inch, every rise and fall, learnt it by heart, crawled over it.
Boring.
"So what was it, Malin?" he went on, digging his fingers into her neck. "In what way did I hurt you so badly you can't shut up about it, hmm? I simply left. Didn't stalk you, did I? Didn't interfere with your pathetic existence. Don't even remember a single time I bothered to get in your way after we split up. But the moment you see me you decide to stick into my business," she jerked, choking, and he had to loosen his grip on her throat. Unwillingly. "So who's the backstabber here, eh?"
"…You won't do it," she croaked. "You won't get away with it."
"Really?" he snorted quietly. "Won't I? With the harbor this close? And, really, who would notice a ranger gone missing? And especially you?"
She was silent, her carotid jumping like mad – and for a moment simply snapping her neck felt like a right thing. But it meant losing control. And he was a king of control, after all.
But you can't deny some fools are just asking for being killed…
He unwrapped his hands, letting her go, and she staggered away, almost losing her ground from unexpectedness, gasping for air, blindly grabbing her weapon, on instinct – but Bishop already stepped far out of her reach.
"Don't let this happen again, Malin," he coldly instructed her bended neck as she tried in vain to cough out the stiffness in her throat. "Mind your business. And let others mind only their own," he smirked. "Like I do."
She glanced up, her face shadowed by her fringe, eyes wet.
"You sick crazy bastard," she whispered. "I hope someone will bring you down one day, like a rabid dog you are."
Bishop snickered: "No way it will be you, Malin, so drop it. Makes you look even more pitiful than you are," he narrowed his eyes at her, still smirking. "And I really hope not to see any of you any time soon. Or at all. Can you manage?"
Whatever she had to say, he didn't stay to listen, turning away and heading back for the tavern. She was never that amusing, anyway.
Still, he took the backdoor, returning through the kitchen, without any wish to make Falgor get curious. The night was yet young, the uproar didn't cease, and there was no way any of the kitchen-girls would drop their work to keep him company. Bishop went straight to the common room, suppressing a flinch when spotting some of the freak-circus still up as well. The half-witted gnome even waved a hand at him. He didn't acknowledge.
The whore was at the bar, washing down the taste of the previous client and casting her eyes around for another one. Not exactly the freshest type, tall and lean, with her hair bleached to nearly white, her face so expertly painted that one could never guess her age - anything between twenty and sixty, really. Still, she wasn't the pretty doll pretending to be exotic in darned laces and stitched silks they served at brothels. Neither was she of those sad hungry ghosts that wandered the dock streets, looking like miserable ill-fated puppies begging for being drowned. She was used, yes, but not worn down – more like a piece of good leather that only grows stronger and smoother over the years. A wench that knew what she was good at and long ago stepped over any guilt or discomfort about her craft. Bishop always had some kind of dry respect for such whores. As a professional for a professional.
She noticed him coming up and was quick to smile. Not bad looking either, which was always a bonus.
"Hey, handsome," she crooned. "Buy me a drink?"
"How about I just pay you, and you buy anything you want?"
She sniggered, settling back on the bar stand to appraise him: "Tough guy, huh? Very well, but it's twice the price on the street. Just so you know. Kinda cold today."
"Got a room upstairs."
"Ah, you are a sweet one."
He couldn't hold back a smirk, letting her lead the way. What was not to like about whores? Always straight to the business. And you got exactly what you were paying for. No bullshit.
He slowed a step, though – just one – when passing the swampwench door, for a heartbeat wondering if she was asleep, what it would be like going into her room, into her bed, into her – but shoved those thoughts away. He would have his time, just not now.
And besides, in the end the chase always appeared to be better than the catch.
"Oh sweet," the whore commented upon entering the room, seeing the wolf lying on the bed. "I'm not exactly into-"
Bishop grinned, holding the door opened and nodding to Karnwyr. "He's leaving, don't fret."
The wolf obeyed, shooting him one grim 'you-traitor' glare, trotting out of the room, and the ranger let go of the door, allowing it to close slowly on the old hinges. His every muscle was already humming in anticipation, but he allowed himself twisted amusement of watching the wench play the obligatory seductive role. Hells, by this moment she could be a hag, and he would still screw her.
But she wasn't. Pretty enough. Especially when let her hair down. The light of the dying candle was playing a pleasing trick with her face, making it look younger and smoother, sending long shadows over her wavy mane, entangling in it, dark enough to block out half of its dyed paleness.
With his eyes lidded, it almost looked like there were black locks among white ones.
"No," he said as she headed towards the bed, his voice thick. "On the floor."
...She woke up much later than intended. And with much more pains. Nearly forcing herself out of the bed and doing at least a little bit to make herself look presentable, Adele packed her things and crawled down to the main hall, honestly hoping to hide that she didn't have enough sleep after all… and that she had a hangover.
The ground floor looked much more deserted than the previous night. Still, Elanee was already there, at the table, with Shandra and Marcus. Adele forced a crooked half-smile at the druidess - which surely didn't fool her, pained as it was – but Elanee only sighed and turned back to the boy, making sure he ate properly. It seemed that his paleness and thinness didn't give her a moment of peace. Adele's smile at Shandra was much more sincere, with the blonde woman propping her heavy head with her hands and rolling her eyes with just as tortured expression.
"Finally," Adele cringed at Sand's voice coming from the door. The elf never had been so loud. "Good morning, my dear. Or should I say good day?"
"I'm happy to see you too, Sand," she muttered, stealing a glance at the bar, the dryness in her mouth demanding for something to be poured over it. "What, am I the last one?"
"Surprised?" the wizard lifted his brows. "Yes, everyone else is up and ready for yet another tiresome journey."
"That's… nice," she murmured, holding back a smirk at Shandra's look, gestured towards bartender and gazed down at Marcus. "Are you up for a travel?"
The boy glanced up at her in return, as always making her insides crawl with cold at the uncanny deep blackness of his eyes. It was probably shameful and as sure as Hells not nice towards the child, but Adele realized she would be very happy to finally get rid of him and his gut-scanning stare.
"Of course," Marcus nodded, getting back to his meals.
"…Good," Adele leaned her elbow on the bar, smiling at Sand. "See? You can safely gather everyone else up."
"Me?" the elf shook his head in resentment, but left, muttering something in Elven.
"You are the most energetic here," Shandra called after him, but not loud enough, her face flinching in pain when she tried raising her voice. Just as much as Adele's when the latter swallowed a chuckle.
Damn, we'll get butchered by a bunch of kobolds in this state.
Well, I'll get.
She took a glass of water from the bartended. A big glass, which was a blessing in itself. Taking an according gulp, she lowered her lids in pleasure.
Now that's much better.
Not good enough for three days of journey, but a start at least.
I should really get easy on drinking.
Really.
Adele suddenly noticed Shandra's look shifting to something behind her back and turning even more sour. The woman herself didn't move, didn't turn, only feeling the goosebumps prickling on back of her neck, making the tiny hairs stand on end. She knew well by now what it meant. What was she to do if it was the way her body chose to react to his gaze and his presence nearby?
"Still sulking, Your Highness?" Bishop whispered to her ear.
"Nah, too much honor for you," she murmured, swaying the glass in her hand and looking straight ahead. "It brings you too much pleasure, making others sulk."
"And you'd sooner crawl out of your skin than bring pleasure to me, wouldn't you," even from the sound of his whisper it was obvious he was smirking. Adele licked the corner of her mouth, feeling shivers making their way down from the neck along her spine.
"Really, don't count on me."
"What, even never complained to anyone about me?"
"No need," she smiled. "I can handle you, ranger."
His quiet chuckle touched her earlobe with warmth, and Adele barely suppressed a shudder. "I am all anticipation."
She had no time to answer as he passed her, carelessly (or carefully) brushing his shoulder against hers:
"Alright, packing up and leaving if we want to cover some ground before nightfall."
Shandra looked back at Adele, raising her brows in silent question. Adele only rolled her eyes expressively and shook her head, draining the glass…
