I would still lay down my life for you
#16
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Cwmfen always felt comfortable with him. Even when she had first met him, the woman had discarded any shyness that had usually become her. So as he brushed her hair aside, touching her face, the woman was still, smiling that golden smile in return. She was never unnerved by his proximity, knowing, and even more keenly now, that he would never hurt her, never control her. His touch made her mind shudder with delight. His hands moved across the scars that marred her back in a way that no other had done before, that sensation more intense than it had been before as if renewed by their strengthened bond. And she drank him in, allowing herself once more to drown in him, in his scent, in his being, so that the song of the souls could intermingle, could be one, fitting together as if they were meant to be. With him, she felt somehow...completed, whole. And as she held him close, kissing him, his own hand came to press her closer to him as if both felt that they could not get close enough.


As Onus broke the kiss, the hand that had held his head moved down his face and neck to rest upon his chest. Breathless, she took a deep breath as she slowly opened her eyes, and the breaths of the lovers intermingles as she lingered above him. But his words left her perplexed. Those white orbs sought his as she answered with that quiet susurrus, "I’m yours," without hesitation, knowing that she could love no other as she loved this man now. And she knew that he did not mean to possess her, to subdue her, as another male might, for he had exhibited no such behavior thus far. And yet, had he requested such a thing, the woman wondered if she could resist. There was very little that she could do against him, and she felt that she could die for him if that’s what it took to save him from whatever it was that he needed saving. Her nose brushed against his with a light touch, a single gesture of affection as she pressed herself against his body as if to ward off an oncoming cold.


But she wondered where such words came from. Her eyes continued to search those black pools that glinted in the half-light, wondering silently. "Do you doubt?" That melody was quiet, perhaps even more so than her previous words as if a thought had made itself manifest. She belonged to no other, not even her father, who claimed right to her blood and body. The warrior wondered, perhaps even worried, that the coyote would consider the Korean’s blood within her a flaw, one that she would not escape. And the woman had worried of such things herself. She worried that his blood had somehow tainted her, and that one day she would not be able to resist the innate darkness within her, that the single, dark blemish upon her soul would consume her beyond recognition, leaving her to become as her father had: empty, heartless, evil. But she tried to push those thoughts aside, hiding them behind the pure white of her eyes as she gazed upon this man who purged the earth of crime.

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