Paying the Price XI

The urge to go to her was powerful. I could feel my muscles flexing as I held my body still. She looked so broken, sitting before me. Her luscious waterfall of blonde curls were spilled around her small frame. Even in the faint light I could see how pale her skin was.

It made the dark, swirling bruise under her eye stand out like a priest in a whorehouse.

I clenched my fists. For someone to strike her, to raise their fists at those bottomless sea green eyes... to let those delicate features be marred... only true evil could do that. And I have seen true evil, I did face the Archdemon after all.

She bore those wicked eyes into mine, and I allowed her. I didn't hide anything from her this time. There were no smiles, no smirks. Just me.

I watched as her eyes widened slightly and the grip on her knees loosen before I lowered my gaze.

"If I had known..."

She snorted, disfiguring that wonderful face into something cruel and ugly. I had seen that look many a times before, but from a very different woman. Only now I realise that the women had never been so different.

"Yeah. Because you would let a target slip."

I felt like something was clawing at my throat. Of course she had known, for how could she not? Seeing me arrive and then a dead body presenting itself. Of course she would work it out. And what she said wasn't completely untrue.

"I would have... for you."

Her eyes pierced mine again, but she lowered them to stare into the fire. The tension swirling around us made my skin crawl.

She must know that. How was I supposed to know that the Seeker had been the man that had damaged her ivory skin? How was I to know? She had passed out before she could tell me who had hurt her! If I had known...

I would have done much more than cut his throat. I would have stripped his flesh from his bone.

I looked at her again, but her eyes were shut, sealing away the only window I had to her soul. In all my years, I had never come across eyes so deeply linked with inner emotions.

Zevran... please.

I closed my eyes but the image was already there. Blonde hair mixing with red life as it seeped from her chest. Chocolate eyes pleading with me, begging me, calling my name...

I covered my face with my hands so she couldn't see. She couldn't see it. I would never let her see it. She couldn't. I couldn't.

I breathed steadily, waiting for the images to pass. Waited for the haunting echo of my juvenile laughter to be blown away with the wind. That was when I saw her again. Her green eyes centred me, allowing me to feel the grass beneath my skin. It was soft, and I could smell the freshness of the water by our side.

"Did he... suffer?"

My eyes snapped back to hers, expecting to see her expression soft, but instead her jaw was shut and her eyes were glazed with hunger. Hunger for revenge.

I had slit his throat and he had drowned in his own blood. His eyes had flicked from my sturdy frame and I had stayed until the man was dead. It was a stupid habit of mine, but it was one I would not break.

I gave her a sharp nod. She returned it before turning her body around and lying with her back to the fire. I watched her slender frame as she wrapped her hair around her head, creating a pillow. She pulled her knees back to her chest for warmth.

My hands grabbed the shirt she had discarded and put it over my lap. She wouldn't accept it yet, but I would wait.

When she was asleep, I would cover her in it. It was all I had besides myself to keep her warm. And even though the idea of wrapping myself around her was tempting, I would never do it. Not only would I lose my manhood, but I would break the last promise I had ever made.

So I would remain awake. So I can protect her.

And so I can stop her from running.