Was that...singing? Well, someone was in a good mood today, but of course she would be, she had her trophy- the clever little minx. And he'd been an all too willing participant in her manipulative game. To think he'd almost...Ugh, no. Nothing happened, right? Nothing. Well, obviously something had happened...not that kind of something, but, damnit. His ears perked to listen, it was a pleasant sound, not something he would have expected to come from the leopard woman. But then again he didn't know her very well, not truly. The last time they'd met they hadn't really spoken. The man was conflicted. However much he wanted to confront her, berate her for what she'd done to him he couldn't bring himself to be angry with her. He was a little cross, sure, who wouldn't be? The hollow sun wasn't just for decoration, after all. It had been hers.
The singing stopped abruptly and a tremor of anxiety ran through him. He inhaled a deep breath to compose himself and tried to appear casual. Though as always when he was nervous a cream hued hand darted to his mane, the fingers combing through. What would he say to her? He couldn't imagine she'd just hand it over without a second thought. She didn't even know he was joining. His mind was a whirlwind, but he pushed his racing thoughts aside, focusing on the footsteps near the door.
Out she stepped, her shapely body masked in a cloak as red as blood. His voice had been confident when he spoke, but now that he saw her he wasn't so sure of himself. It helped that she was mostly clothed, the fabric draped over her frame, revealing little. The icy glare she shot him soon twisted his stomach into knots...So she hadn't forgotten him. His ears folded back, temporarily cowed, but he forced himself to take a breath and willed them to stand straight. She was the thief, here. She didn't have the right to angry with him, he hadn't wronged her. Not like what she did to him.
Her smile was sickly sweet, though her amethyst eyes were cold now that they weren't narrowed in a sultry stare. Sidra denied her crime, walking right on by him. The open lie struck a nerve and the Callow knight moved to block her path. "My pendant...The one you stole...Remember?" He spoke slowly, his British voice annunciating every little syllable. Another open denial, accompanied by biting words set his muzzle into a frown. "Shall I jog your memory? He didn't wait for her to answer. "Well, let's see...It's about this big." Cream hued digits indicated the approximate size of the hollowed sun. "Steel. Looks like a sun." Hazel eyes watched her carefully, falling to her chest, head tilting when he noticed the scars. They looked somehow fresher now, pink like newly knitted flesh. They weren't like that before, were they? Had something happened to her? Even now his compassionate nature was getting the better of him and he almost felt bad for his accusations. They were true, of course, but something had obviously happened to her.
Soon enough his hazel eyes fell to her...supple breasts, his intention innocent enough at first as he searched for the pendant, unaware that it lie just beneath the cloth. They darted hastily upwards, his manner suddenly sheepish. Bloody hell, Alister. He chided himself inwardly, unsettled by the awful feeling in his gut, the heady guilt that still knotted his insides. Even without the presence of her heat he still felt oddly attracted to her. Was it because she was the first woman he'd ever touched? Either way it shamed him, and he forced himself to look downwards.
Photo courtesy of Temari 09
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