Lucky for Marcail, after an hour or two, there was a knock on the door. She began to get up, for any company was better than her own thoughts. However, the door opened, and the frame was filled with Galen's massive form. She nibbled the corner of her cheek, feeling she would never get used to the size of a male night elf this close. He had a few things in his arms, as he came in and closed the door behind him with his back. He moved to the desk and laid out his items.
She looked to see a shiny, red apple, a few bunches of grapes, and a few loaves of bread. She licked her lips, feeling hunger creep up on her. His back was still turned, and he still hadn't said a word. She was tempted to just come up behind him, snatch some food for herself and devour it like an animal before he could protest.
All thoughts of food halted, when she heard the clicking of him unfastening his plate armor. Off came the shoulder armor, his gloves, bracers, and breastplate. Had he lost all his senses? Why was he removing his clothes? She swallowed hard, watching this process. He had on some type of pale blue tunic underneath his chest armor, and she prayed if he were to remove his lower armor, he had some sort of cloth pants on.
Marcail cleared her throat, hoping that he would remember her presence in the room, but if he heard, he ignored it. The belt buckle unsnapped, as he placed it on the ground with the rest of his plate. The blood elf averted her eyes away from him, wrapping her arms around her knees and drawing them in.
"I assumed you would be hungry. Forgive me for taking so long in returning," he spoke, still facing the wall as he unfastened the latches on his plated legs. "The captain and I shared a few drinks, and I lost track of time."
She quickly glanced his way, praying that he was decent. A breath of relief rushed from her lungs when she saw that he was. He wore black leather breeches, and even had on leather boots. He turned to face her, tossing her something long and flimsy through the air and it landed beside her.
"I also managed to get you a dress. It'll probably be too big, though. It was made for a human woman." He explained.
She crawled to the material and grasped it. It was of different shades of white and blue, and of linen material. She pulled it on over her head, thankful for the softer shift providing her a barrier from the uncomfortable, scratchy linen. She stood, smoothing the blue skirt out, and pulling on the collar to keep the sleeves from falling from her shoulders. It was a peasant's dress, but at least she could be seen in public.
"It'll do," she said, the extra material pooling at her feet. "Thank you."
Looking up, she saw the warrior staring at her with that strange expression again, as if he were in a trance. Her breath hitched, as his eyes fixed on her. She shifted her weight and picked up the extra skirts. Boldly, she strolled to him, her eyes watching him cautiously. As she passed him, and stood at the other edge of the desk, she picked up the apple. Glancing at him again, she frowned.
"Why do you keep staring at me so?" Bringing the apple to her lips, she gently bit into it, never taking her eyes off of him.
"Forgive me," he said, looking away to grabbing a loaf of bread and pulled the chair out to sit in it. "I wasn't expecting that dress to look so fetching on you."
Marcail felt a light flush rise, unsure whether to be flattered or afraid. She bit into the apple again, chewing slowly, her feelings still unrest. When he looked at her like that, there was a strange feeling that formed in the pit of her stomach, and it now wasn't going away. She reached for a loaf of bread for herself, closing her fingers over it, a dreadfully slow process as she kept her eyes on the warrior.
"I do believe you are staring now, Marcail," he didn't even look up as he broke his loaf in half. She furrowed her brows and flushed in embarrassment.
"I am not staring," she defended, eyes widening and cradling the bread in the crook of her arm. She turned away and stiffly walked back to the bed. She heard a deep chuckle from him behind her. He was amused! She planted herself on the spread, crossing her legs and started on the apple again.
"Then what would you call it?" He pressed, turning slightly in his chair, popping a broken piece of bread into his mouth.
"Nothing," she squeaked, then started coughing as she choked on the bite of apple.
"Mhmm," a small grin crept on the warrior's face. He swallowed his food and looked away. "For the sleeping arrangements, I figured you could explore outside while I got some sleep. You've been sleeping for the past few days strait."
"Could I?" Her eyes lightened at the idea of going outside. "I'm not even tired at all, I would love for that opportunity. But..." she paused, nodding to the door. "Will they stop me?"
"Don't worry about it, I spoke with the captain about you. They won't give you any trouble." He waved a hand. Marcail wolfed down the rest of the apple and stood to leave.
"It is a little chilly out there, I'd take the cloak," he added, as she turned to him and caught his eyes. She nodded, and pulled his dark blue cloak over her shoulders. Pulling the door open, she glanced at him one last time before she left.
.
Galen sighed, feeling his body relax at her absence. When he was around her, all his senses went into overdrive. Every movement she made, every sway of her hips, and every look she gave him made his insides groan with desire. When she came to him, the smell of her skin had filled his senses. And that dress on her! Elune's blood! She managed to make even the simplest of dresses look as good as her wedding dress.
When she ate that damned apple, it took every ounce of his will to suppress pulling her into his lap and desperately kissing her. It didn't help that the captain had brought out the special reserve for Galen, being old friends. The brandy had gone strait to his head without food in his belly. The brandy had amplified the already-difficult drive he had for her, causing him to stare at her without a care in the world.
He rubbed his face, breathing deeply. This was becoming a problem. Being near her made his body writhe in pain from all the tension, but being away from her made his body cry out for not having the tension. He had tried to leave the captain sooner, but he didn't want to be impolite. After all, he was stretching the laws and getting his friend involved with his treason. He didn't want a reason for the captain to harbor ill feelings.
He polished off his meager dinner with some water, and trudged lazily to the bed. He pulled the quilt back, and smelled the mage's smell fill his senses again. Great, Galen said to himself. Crawling into the bed and removing his shirt and leather boot liners. If he didn't get to sleep, he would be extremely tired the next day, and even if he did, he would probably dream of her. He pulled the covers over himself and expelled a long breath.
.
Marcail tip-toed up the stairs to the deck. She lifted the skirts high enough so she wouldn't trip over them, and tried to avoid creaking on the wood. Once she reached the top, she let herself unravel into the crisp night air, stretching her arms out and breathing in the salty smells of the ocean. Looking to the sky, she saw the beautiful night sky, amplified in the middle of the ocean as stars reflected their glittering dances back to her on the glassy water.
Nothing could make her happier at that moment. She walked to the guard rail of the ship, and started on her loaf of bread. Being away from Ironforge and no longer locked underground made her feel so much better. Like she was a different person, not about to go into slavery or anything else dismal like that. Scoffing at her ability to bring down even the happiest of moods, she slumped her shoulders and stared out into sea.
.
After a while, the air became became less crisp and more frigid. Shivering, she wrapped the cloak around her tighter, and turned to the entrance to the lower decks of the ship. Marcail stepped carefully down the stairs and turned to the room Galen had brought her to. She figured that she could ignite the brazier for him, since the chill had crept below decks. After all, he had come in to make fires for her in Ironforge, she could spare a bit of kindness.
The mage slowly opened the door, to not disturb the warrior. When she saw that he hadn't even stirred, she entered the room, closing the door behind her. She carefully walked through the dark room, the starlight barely giving her enough light for her to find the brazier. Once she was sure she found it, she pooled her magic to cast a flamestrike into the coals. They caught almost immediately, bursting into lively flames and heat.
Marcail turned to leave the room, she figured she might go exploring the lower decks, leaving Galen to sleep peacefully. She started to leave, when her eyes caught something sparkling on the warrior's chest. She tip-toed to him, and stopped at his bedside. There, the gem lay out in the open, on his chest, so unguarded and tempting. She could snatch it right there, get her magic back and make a portal for home. However, if she failed and woke the warrior, there was sure to be hell to pay.
The mage was too tempted not to reach her slender arm out to hover over the emerald. She immediately felt the call of her own magic, but it had been amplified. Before she could even wonder why, the tingling sensation took her over. It was soothing and comfortable and swirling around her, filling her. This was her magic, so unlike the feeling of absorbing someone else's, this gave her peace. Her hand came down and her fingers wrapped around the emerald. She felt a powerful rush of arcane energy in her palm, potent and strong. She closed her eyes, savoring the feeling, as she felt a smile tug at her lips. She felt herself swaying gently, as the familiar music of her magic entranced her.
Everything came halting to a stop, when she felt gripping arms jerking her away from her magic. Her head went spinning, as she felt herself being flipped. Crying out in surprise, her eyes snapped open, as intense pressure bore into her lower body. Her eyes focused on a very angry night elf, with flashing yellow eyes as he held her hands above her body. In his anger, his iron grip tightened around her wrists as the pain shot through her body.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" She cried out, shaking in fear. This was exactly what she wanted to avoid.
"You think you could steal your magic back, kill me and run off?" He demanded angrily. She wanted to point out that he was the one that stole her magic in the first place, and she had every right to try and escape, but he was beyond reason. She shook in fear, turning her face from him.
"No! Of course not! I was just- I'm so sorry!" She whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut.
"You lie!" His grip on the girl was locked, as she squirmed against him in pain. "You have proven to me you cannot be trusted." He glared at her.
The mage proved herself to fall under her stereotype once again. She could not resist the call of magic. Blood elves would always prove to be dishonest when it came to magic. He was so angry with her, he wanted to just be rid of this trouble. The rage of her betrayal had shocked him, and even hurt him a little.
"What am I going to do with you?" He glared at the small form beneath him, as a tear rolled down her cheek.
"Please," she whispered, he could barely hear her begging. "Please, you're hurting me." He loosened his grip on her, but still kept her still. "I was only holding it," she defended, still keeping her face turned from him.
"Am I to believe you were not going to try and escape?" He scoffed.
"No," she admitted, knowing she couldn't openly lie like that. It would be impossible to convince him otherwise, and he would just get angrier if she did lie.
She heard him breathe out deeply, and felt him try to calm himself down. She fastened her lips, keeping her face turned from him and her eyes tightly closed, bracing herself for anything else his rage would throw at her. Silence eluded them both, as she trembled beneath him, and he kept her in the position.
"Look at me, Marcail," he ordered, but his voice had significantly calmed down.
She slowly turned her head to him, and her eyes followed up his face and rested on his glowing golden eyes. His face reflected a mix of anger and that look with his lidded eyes and parted lips. His dark hair fell over his shoulder, falling beside her on the pillow. He felt her softness, now aware of her nestled against his growing rod.
Her face was a mix of fear, sorrow, and shame. The tip of her pretty nose had gone pink, and a few tears streaked her face. Guilt crept up on him, he shouldn't have lost his temper like that. Her caramel-bronze hair was fanned out before him, and looked even darker in the night with the dimmed light of the brazier in the corner. Wait, the brazier was lit? He glanced over, and sure enough, he saw that she had lit it. Looking back at her with a curious gaze, she opened her mouth to speak, as if she knew what he was thinking about.
"It was cold, and I-I just thought..." She trailed off, and then her voice dropped to a whisper, "I didn't intend... I didn't mean..."
He nodded slightly, as if he found that as a reasonable excuse. She relaxed a little, but wriggled her body to get from beneath his massive weight. Suddenly, she noticed his head started to dip, and she was struck frozen. The anger in his eyes seemed to have melted away, and a heavy look of pure male lust replaced it. His face inched closer to hers, as she was paralyzed in fear and confusion. Wasn't he just furious with me a few seconds ago?
Her heart raced beneath her chest, and tension pooled deep in her stomach. She should pull away, but she was afraid the anger would return. Would he be angry with her if she did? Her thoughts were too slow, as his lips finally met hers in a gentle brush before he pulled back. The brush brought a wave of curiosity through her, and she remained still. When he found that she didn't resist, he lowered his lips back to hers, giving her a longer, smoother kiss.
Her body surprised her, as she felt white-hot electricity shoot strait to her head and that pit-deep ache in her stomach began to burn. She was powerless at this point, with every intention of moving, but no part of her body that would obey her mind. Instead, her body deceived her further, as she hesitantly kissed him back. He seemed to like her response, as he kissed her again with that same sweet kiss. His hands moved from her wrists, as one went to her cheek. His fingers cupping beneath her head and neck, his thumb stroking her smooth cheek.
The other hand snaked around her, supporting the small of her back and pulling her closer to his body. Her hands found their way on either side of his shoulders, and heard her sigh a little. She felt a deep rumble from his chest vibrating into her own, as he dove his head into her thin neck. He sought out the sensitive spots, kissing and nipping. When he found a spot, she jerked beneath him as he flicked his tongue against it.
The feel of her under his body felt so right. Like this little body of hers was made just for him, and him alone. He felt his loins pulse harder at the feel of her legs apart for him, and he made himself comfortable, pressing his member into her warm woman's core. She gasped at the intimacy of the act, arching herself to him in surprise and a hint of fear. He groaned at her response, as her mounds of soft flesh pressed into his chest.
"G-galen," she whispered hesitantly, her body and hands shifting so her palms were against his chest. He was still trailing kisses along her neck, making his way to an exposed clavicle. Doubt crept through her veins, as it spread quickly throughout her body. She pushed against him, but the resistance of a few hundred pounds of lean muscle proved to be too much for her. Lazily, his head rose from her, his eyes drunk with hunger.
"Galen," she whispered again, her eyes wide in fear.
When he recognized the hesitation in her face, he knew he had to stop. His body cursed him, as it ached with need, but he sat back on his heels. Marcail felt fresh air rush into her lungs as she pushed herself off of the bed, and swung her legs over. She shivered as she glanced at him, but jumped to her feet before he could get a word in and rushed to the door. He turned to say something, anything, but the door quickly shut behind her, as tiny footsteps were heard scurrying away. He cursed himself and buried his forehead in his palm.
.
The next morning, Galen paced the upper deck of the ship, waiting to run into Marcail. He had spent a good portion of the night searching for her to try and apologize. Yet, she disappeared. He couldn't find her below decks, and she also hadn't been in the room. He cursed himself, looking up to the blue sky. It was a clear day, with the ocean breeze strong enough to fill the sails and carry them on the water. He hoped that it would tempt the blood elf to surface.
He knew he needed to apologize for losing his temper, and losing control of his lust. That night, she had looked so vulnerable and so innocent, he couldn't resist a sample of the honey-blonde haired female. He had been pleasantly surprised when she responded to his advances, and also immensely aroused. He almost groaned in remembrance of the heated kiss they shared.
Galen's memory was halted when he heard familiar light footsteps on the wooden deck. Looking to his side, he saw the familiar face of the delicate blood elf. Her hair was resting at her shoulders, her bangs parted over one side of her face, covering one of her emerald eyes. She looked up at him, a gaze with wonder and vigilance. Her guarded posture proved to him she was still distrustful of his actions from the night before. However, with all of these mixed signals she was sending him, he was relieved she came to him.
"I wondered where you went off to, I was getting worried." Galen stepped closer to her.
"I needed to be alone," she answered, meeting his gaze, but not retreating. Silence fell on the couple, as each of them waited for the other to speak up. Then, the both started at the same time.
"I wanted to-" Marcail began, as Galen said, "Let me first say-" They both paused, waiting for the other to speak.
"You go first," Galen nodded.
"No, I'm sorry. I interrupted." She shook her head, her hair fanning around her as she did.
"Marcail, I wanted to apologize for last night. I lost my temper, and you didn't deserve it. I should have guarded the gem more carefully, especially because you are missing your magic." He began, feeling more guilty admitting these feelings. A small smile formed on her pretty lips. He briefly thought of kissing those lips again, her smile brought out a gentle and light feeling inside him, and he found that he slightly enjoyed that.
"I wanted to apologize for letting my arcane-thirsty nature get the best of me." Her smile faded, and Galen felt his own smile disappear. Funny, he didn't even know he was smiling. "It's a terrible feeling, knowing I will always have this curse." She blew out a short breath through her nose.
"Yes, it seems to really plague your thoughts," his brows furrowed. "Would you like some time to meditate?" She shook her head.
"I found a small area below and got in an hour this morning." She explained.
"That's strange, I couldn't find you anywhere," he tilted his head a little, and her smile returned.
"I didn't realize you were that worried."
"What? Oh, no I-" His eyes widened, not knowing the correct words to say. Suddenly, he became a blubbering idiot and he cursed himself for it. "I mean, I didn't-" She giggled a little, but tried to hide it with a cough as she looked to the ground. She was very pretty already, but he was really taken by her beauty when she smiled. He hadn't really seen her smile, but then again he never really gave her a reason to.
"What I meant to say was that I was looking for you to apologize to you." He finally found words to say to her. "I wanted to apologize for my temper, and also I wanted to apologize for my advances." She looked at him with confusion.
"Advances?" She asked. Galen fought the feeling to roll his eyes. Did she really not remember?
"When I kissed you," he explained, "on the bed last night." Suddenly, her face went bright red and her eyes flew open with surprise. Ah, so she did remember!
"O-oh. T-that." She fumbled with her skirts and looked away. "I-I forgive you."
"Are you okay?" He asked her, raising a deep blue eyebrow.
"I'm fine," she faced him, as she tried to control her actions. Galen wanted to smile when he realized she was nervous about the conversation.
"Are you hungry at all? I have some bread and cheese from this morning." He motioned his open hand to the room they were staying in.
"Actually, I'm famished." She explained, with a light smile. He gestured to the door to the lower decks, and she went first, with him guiding her by placing his hand at the small of her back.
..
..
Author's Note
To my past viewer who pointed out my spelling error with Darnassus: thank you so much for noticing that and bringing it to my attention. My husband works as an EMT in a town called "Manassas", so that's where I kept messing up! I'm sorry, and will try to edit that as soon as I can!
On another note, I've been getting some complaints on my update speed. I'm sorry, and I hate to be that author that leaves stories undone, because I've been the victim of that quite regularly. I'll try to be faster, but writer's block does get the best of me at times. I've written about 80 pages so far, but it's pieces of a story, so I have to go back in and add the ties when I'm feeling creative. But I don't plan on giving up this story, I am going to continue this! Bear with me!