The second Meggie's bedroom door closed behind them, she shoved Dustfinger away and recoiled to the other side of the room. He stood in place looking helplessly lost.
"Look Meggie, I didn't know what else to do," he began, searching for the right words to say. He wasn't used to this level of affection, to the responsibility it brought him. He wanted nothing more than to forget about the girl and go back to when it was just him and Gwin on the run. This mess was his fault and falling for her complicated things even more.
"This is your idea of protection? Of keeping your word to Moe?" Meggie spat back viciously, "I'm sure my father will love to hear that your idea of safety involves fucking his daughter."
Dustfinger cringed; the words sounded dirty and wrong coming from her lips. He watched as she collapsed into the nearest armchair, her eyes looking defeated. She was angry, he knew that, but he could see beyond it. It wasn't just that she was mad, he realized. She was anxious. And how could he blame her? Meggie was sweet and naive; she had grown up with her father watching her every move, been treated to a life where someone was always there to kiss her bruises and keep her from getting too close to the edge of the sidewalk, keep her on the right path- and now she was being thrust into this nightmare.
But hearing those words come from her mouth made his blood boil.
"You think this is easy for me, princess?" Dustfinger snapped back, following her to her seat, "Maybe I'm not the one Moe wants his pride and joy to be with but I can sure as hell assure you that he'd prefer me over that knife-wielding sadist who would get just as much joy out of killing you as he would bedding you."
Meggie shot up from her chair, apprehension replaced by absolute indignation.
"Well my god, Dustfinger, I'm so sorry you have to subject yourself to this horrible task you've been given!" Hot tears welled up in her eyes and she wiped them away angrily, furious with herself for letting him see her cry.
As much as she tried to deny it, she was absolutely humiliated. Meggie knew that logically she should be upset about more or less being forced by Capricorn to submit to any sexual advances, but the truth of the matter was, she was, well, heartbroken. Had she imagined the connection that night of the fire? She swore that night felt like magic. The heat had felt like pure lust as it nipped at her fingertips. Dustfinger had laughed and lightly kissed her burn and suddenly it was like the flame hadn't licked her at all. He talked with the fire like an old friend and it played tricks with him in turn. Meggie had never seen anything like it. Meggie had never felt anything like it. And she was sure that Dustfinger had felt the same undeniable pull. It was hotter than the flames.
Yet here he was, acting like she was a chore he would rather give away to someone else. He had turned down Meggie's advancements the night before so she did not understand why he volunteered for this and felt the need to rub it in some more.
Dustfinger finally seemed to understand.
"It's...it's not a task Meggie, I just…" he ran a hand through his hair, struggling for the right words, "I don't want to do this to you. You're just a girl, you're just…"
"I'm not a child, dammit!" Meggie took a step closer to him. She hated how desperate she sounded but she needed to know. "That night in the garden...was any of it real? Was it all in my head?"
She stared at the ground, quiet now. She was so close that she could smell the familiar scent of bonfire that always seemed to act as his personal cologne. Dustfinger stiffened at the intimacy; it would be so easy to give in.
"Of course it was real," he spoke softly, daring to reach out and stroke her cheek. "But it's wrong. I can't do this to you. We'll just have to trick Capricorn somehow into thinking that-"
Before he could finish his sentence, Meggie lifted her lips to his and kissed him.
That one touch was all it took. It was as if he had been starving for her all along and hadn't known she would taste this good.