Chapter 4.5 About Her
You said you loved me. Her thoughts brushed against the edge of his mind, gentle as spring's first thaw, fleeting as pieces of ice carried downstream to kiss the riverbank. Prove it to me.
He did not answer with words, for his actions spoke instead. As her arms tightened around his neck, he drew her closer still, his fingers threading through her dark hair to lift her face. Without hesitation, he kissed her—deeply, fervently, consumed by a hunger that knew no bounds. Her lips were cool, yet her breath was warm, and the taste of her lingered—sweet and intoxicating—beyond anything he had ever imagined. He had waited for this moment far too long—so long that he had nearly abandoned all hope. Yet unbidden love, unfulfilled longing, and the scars of severed ties had only drawn him deeper into the snare of their impossible bond. Now, the yearning and restraint he had buried in the depths of his memory reached their breaking point, like light and shadow locked in eternal combat, obliterating each other in a blaze of incandescent flame.
Even if this should burn him to ash, he would not care—for she was by his side.
At some unmarked moment, the frost-bound wilderness around them began to yield. Snow and ice melted away, revealing a tender patch of green, as though the flames rising between them had driven even the ever-present cold into reluctant retreat. Through the thin fabric of her clothing, he felt the rhythm of her heartbeat, its cadence syncing with his own. As their breaths intertwined, he tore away her cloak and cast it aside, lifting her effortlessly. She was tall for a nís, but his strength surpassed that of most of his kin. Gently, he laid her upon the soft grass, never loosening the embrace of his arms.
You will not flee from me again, he thought, his resolve hardening into vengeance as he kissed her once more. This time, she did not remain passive. Her response began tentatively, her thoughts grazing his mind, light as dandelion seeds adrift on the wind. Her tongue, teasing and elusive, flicked at his lips like a darting fish, slipping between reeds and always evading capture. Frustrated yet fascinated, he entwined her long hair around his fingers, holding her fast and denying her any chance of retreat. But when she realized she could not break free, she shifted, her playfulness transforming into sudden ferocity. Like a falcon striking from the sky, she bit down on his lip.
Sharp pain flared briefly before the taste of blood spread across his tongue. In that instant, he understood why wild beasts, once they had tasted blood, descended into frenzy. It was an instinct buried deep in the marrow of the soul—a primal, irresistible temptation that silenced all reason, leaving only raw, unrelenting desire.
Wordlessly, he began stripping away the final barriers between them, his movements no longer restrained. Fabric tore, seams snapped, and wool and linen fell away piece by piece until she lay against his bare chest. Her skin gleamed under the starlight, its radiance surpassing even her garments—smooth and flawless, like porcelain kissed by moonlight. So beautiful, and yet so cold. His heated palms trailed slowly down her icy back, and he could not fathom why she did not burn with the same fire that consumed him. Yet, if she noticed his confusion, she gave no sign. Like a curious cub, she brushed her lips lightly against his neck, her touch delicate but tinged with playful disdain. Now and then, her teeth grazed his throat, each touch deliberate, each a calculated provocation.
His mind felt split in two. One part screamed at him to pull away, warning that exposing such a vital weakness was folly. Yet the other urged him to surrender completely—to offer her the power of life and death over him, to yield without restraint, even if it led to his ruin.
But why should it matter? Everything about her was a puzzle he could never fully solve, yet none of it had ever lessened his love for her. Once, she had refused his vows, claiming she loved him only as a brother. And now, having changed her mind, she demanded proof of his devotion. Why, then, should he deny her?
Refusing to think further or hold back any longer, he took a deep breath and lifted her chin with a trembling hand, feeling himself drawn inevitably to the brink of no return.
I belong to you, he thought, summoning the last remnants of his fading reason and forcing her to meet his gaze. But you—do you belong to me?
Notes
This chapter was added in 2024, years after the original story was written, to complete it with more emotional touch. It is intended to be a "no means no" situation with ósanwe, and a demonstration of the power of "unwill".