He would never force himself on her. She alone was safe. Perhaps there was something of the masochist in his inhibition, holding himself back so carefully, waiting for the moment that may never come, bringing an end to his perpetual desire. Would he die the instant they touched? Would he combust, turning to flames, and eventually ash? More and more she tantalized him, drawing ever closer. She took the heart; her hands moving along his arms, over the rough surface of the ancient scars carved there so long ago.
Oh, how he wanted to take her right there, but restrain otherwise unknown held him back, rooting him to the spot. Her tongue brushed across his hands, removing the red from the palms, and he found them moving along her neck, pulling her into an embrace forbidden by the realm of normal society. His nose moved along her jaw-line, inhaling her scent before his tongue darted between his teeth, tasting her.