She ran. While she curled up against his chest, lost in the shadows he carried with him always, she pounded her escape through the aspens and the oaks that populated her dreams. If she kept running eventually she would find that the trees gave way to a city, that the soft ground was replaced by hardened cobblestones under her feet.

“I want this” his words slowed the race she ran in her mind. The accented words continued as did his touches. His fingers caressed over her even as his words slapped against her bare skin like fresh saplings leaving welts that rose in bright red.

She jolted when he stepped back found herself staring at his moonish eyes once again. Out of the corners of her eyes she could still see the trees rushing past her, branches of white and black bathed in milky yellow moonlight.

Run… something deep in her gut commanded but she held fast to the words he said now. They were not lost as some of his earlier words had been, she feared that if she lost them she would run. Already without his arms wrapped tightly around her she could feel her legs tighten with the desire. The words he spoke were like guiding stars in the heavens that kept her steady instead of retreating backwards.

Eventually his words ended and she was left with the faint impression of the stars in the sky to follow, if she chose to. The impulse to run was still strong but she focused and instead found herself truly considering what he said.

She let him keep the hand he clasped to his heart, although she pressed it further against him and felt the pull of the gash in her palm. Her other hand began to trace over him. It rose first to the fingers that caressed her lips. Delicate as snowflakes falling she flitted her fingers down his and to his wrist, they floated along his arm, catching every stitch in the fabric of his coat and back up to his neck. They traced the pulse that throbbed out from under her other hand up toward his jaw, likewise across his cheek and lips before returning toward his temple and finally into the thick black hair. At last they trembled back across his ear. Carefully they dropped again, down his chest and back to the skull at his waist. Her eyes followed them, considering every inch that the touched, wondering if she could call those inches hers.

Emotion boiled deeply inside of her. Some of it she recognized (desire). Some of it she did not (love?). Thoughts tempted her to simply tear at his clothing and stop this conversation with passion. But she couldn’t. It wasn’t right, not here, not now, not yet… there was still that other emotion to be dealt with. The one that screamed that she did want to claim him.

The need to run welled up in her again, she considered it again. He had offered her love, not just the lustful desire that certainly sparked between them, but something deeper. There might be something here that could trump even her fantasy dreams of what love could be. Could she walk, no run, away from this now? Or would she regret it?

She leaned in a bit and closed her eyes. A deep breath and again she smelled him, and for the first time she really took in his scent and recognized it for what it was; fall, the delicate sap that clings to the golden yellow leaves of the aspens as they drifted down toward the damp mossy earth. She searched her memories, had he truly been with her for years? Another breath and some deep place in the dark spewed forth a memory.

Her ears were still tender, the pink flesh growing over the damaged cartilage was still sensitive to everything. They stung now as she stepped out into the night. Something caught her attention, she spun and just barely caught the sight of a shadow flutter. With a gasp she stepped toward where the shadow was but saw nothing but inky blackness. Her eyes narrowed as she examined it a bit closer, on the wind the smell of aspens drifted out of alley. Still there was nothing there. She shook her head and left.

The next morning she heard that the owner of the house had been slain in his sleep. The memory brought forth more. Shadows that moved, the scent of aspens passing her in the street, the brush of fingers through her hair on the street that she could never attach a wrist to, stars watching her every move. They were always moments that had left her unbalanced but yet somehow she did not mind them.

Could he truly leave me? And will I regret it if I tried to leave him now, after all he is offering?

Slowly her eyes open again and her head bobs in answer to the question in her head as well as the question that he has put at her feet. Tightly she holds his hand and whispers to him softly.

“Amin sana lle corm ar’kama cormamin. Ar’amin ondea lle corm ar’kama corm’lle.”

Rising onto her toes she closes the distance between them and seals what she has just said with a kiss. She breathes him in as he pulls her close again. The kiss does not linger though and she pulls back only to look up into his eyes, a cooler look in hers again.

“But I swear Nyx Shyndyn… if you go back on anything you have just said, if you ever hurt me… you know full well what I am capable of. I will make sure that every moment of your long elven life will be nothing but torture. I will think up new ways to make sure you regret it constantly. May the Gods help me.” There is but a slight tremble in her voice as she says this and immediately after her lips are back on his, harsh and passionate.

It is broken again with a gasp as she again brings her head to his chest, “As for the Hellkites… I want them to know. I want Dmitrova to know that it is you who kills him, the elf whom he severely underestimated. I want him to know why… to know that it is our...” she paused but finally says the word, “love that has ended him.”

Her eyes opened slowly and took in the soft smile he offered under those yellow soulful eyes. Her hand caressed from his neck to his pallid cheek. Gently she touched the warmed skin and then trailed back toward the base of his neck where the caress turned into a more firm grip that matched the fixed look in her eyes.

“Stop it Nyx! Stop apologizing… stop explaining things I already know. Just tell me how to accept it! Tell me what I’m supposed to do with it!

You say you love me, and believe me in my life that is something very rare. Forgotten, hated, pitied or simply tolerated is the usual gambit. The times that I felt I could be loved… they were taken from me before they could bloom.

And… and I think I believe you Nyx. I want to believe you.”

With the word want she presses up against him a bit more, but the firm grip does not relax.

“But what does it change Nyx? It cannot make things easier. You could never be accepted back into the folds of an Elven community with me at your side. They would not allow it, and neither could I. I won’t go back to that life Nyx. I can’t.

Our life in a city would be equally as difficult. The Hellkites are spread out all over the kingdom. We don’t exactly have a low profile… the mith’ganni assassin and the half elven sorceress with the lopped off ears. If they ever found out what we have done… there will be a price on our heads, a price that killing off Dmitrova might not remove.

And then there is us… I have despised your kind my entire life…” her grip loosens to touch his ear, “those pointed ears make me want to scream, I couldn’t even bear to look at my own. Half of what I am is destroying your civilization and I know you hate humans as much as I have hated elves.

I think I can accept you because… you aren’t like the rest. But it isn’t going to change how I feel about the rest Nyx. Perhaps you can accept my heritage for the same reasons… but… but I cannot agree with you on your hatred of humans, I feel no kinship toward my elven blood, I do not sympathize with their plight. If they were all wiped from the face of this planet tomorrow, I would not weep, save for perhaps you…”

The fingers resting against his heart spread to cover more of his chest.

“I do not love the humans, but I can respect them…”

Her eyes clench tightly as her fingers, those clutching at his ear and those resting over his heart, press harshly into the man who brings her such torment while at the same time offers her the world.

“I don’t know what you want from me! And I don’t know if I can give it… Stop the poetics and the promises and the bull! Tell me what you want! What is it you want from me!?” Her voice rises in the small space between them.

Without opening her eyes she again buries her head into his chest, trying to hear his heart if only to still her own while she waits and pleads with the Gods above for him to answer with something she can give.

A dark laughter and a grip that pushed her back against the wall is what she had elicited from him at first.  The vile manifestation of her anger rolled in her stomach with it, making her wince and tighten in his hold. 

You pushed him to do this, don’t deny it Cay, you pushed and now he will take…

But the voice died as he leaned in toward her, whispering softly to her even as his hand released her wrist and moved to a caress down her body.  She shuddered and tried to hear the words that he spoke to her, but concentrating on them was nearly impossible.  The voice in her head was screaming too loudly, the blood rushed through her skull as her heart pounded in her chest, and his eyes stared down into her very soul saying more than his words ever could.

Stop him Cay… won’t you stop him?  You could.  Don’t pretend that you are some weakling, we all know better than that.  If this is not what you want then stop him… the voice with the elven accent taunted her, and for once she recognized it as her own voice. 

Or is that why you pushed him?  You wanted him to do this, because you were too scared to make the first move yourself.  Because under it all you are a coward.  Too afraid that in the end you’ll just be hurt again… best to be hurt in the beginning, isn’t that right?

Bits of what Nyx was saying filtered through to her.

“I am not the human that you tell yourself that you want, either, am I?”

Is that what I want?  Is that what I really want?

She stared into his eyes as he pulled her closer to him and up off her feet.  They apologized for causing her any pain, they spoke of the torment she had put him through while he had watched her in the shadows, they begged her to accept him, to complete him and in doing so to complete herself.

“Your blood and mine be damned… elven… human… all of it! I am nothing, Cay… but I am yours…”

The voices stopped they no longer needed to continue, and even if they had tried they would have been cut off by the feel of his lips pressed harshly against hers.  He held her tightly against him.  Layers of clothing could not hide the heat that sparked through his body, nor the rushed beat of his heart so close to her own. 

The first moments of it she stayed stiff in his arms, feeling the passion and the demands that the kiss made of her.  It was too familiar at first, the demands that came with such an act, but as he continued it softened some and while still demanding the demands were not what she was used to.  He was not asking her to degrade herself for his pleasure, nor was he trying to make her into something she was not, to fill some gap that she never could.  He demanded only that she be honest with herself and with him, that she take his broken soul into her embrace; and slowly she did. 

Sparks of warmth from his body began melting into her own, relaxing the muscles to a point that she felt herself begin to slip in his arms for a moment.  He retightened his grip on her, holding her even more firmly against him, but the act was almost not needed as her own arms rose to curl around his neck.  Breath by breath she returns the kiss with more feeling, taking what he offers and ever so slowly offering something back in return. 

To belong… that is all I ever wanted… her mind whispers as she pulls him closer.  Fingers press into his shoulders; lips caress his own as she becomes the one to demand.  The more she demands the more she realizes it is simply not enough.  Her fingers roam over his back and up his collar seeking his skin, running through his hair.  If he is hers she suddenly wants him, all of him.

Several minutes of time that no longer registers with either of them transpire in this mutual bliss until finally she pulls her lips back with a gasp.  Her eyes stay closed as she sinks back down toward the floor, but keeps her body pressed against his.  One hand drifts with her, stopping at his heart where her head has settled.

Trembling she whispers, “Amin delotha lle…” 

With a breath, though, her fingers find their way inside his jacket and the thin shirt under it, to the scarred skin below, pressing her palm over his heart as she turns her head and buries it against him.  “Nan’ amin caelaya’lle…” she mutters against the dark shadows.