Guilty Pleasures

She could count on one hand the number of times she had seen it happen before, leaving her momentarily frozen upon returning from her day-long trip to the Farrell Kingdom. All at once the thoughts of underhanded diplomats and ill-concealed disdain fled from her mind at the sight that greeted her. A smile spread across her lips.

Terrel… 

Her mind ghosted over his, feeling recognition curl around the stream of thought before receding. He did not stir. Sometimes she wondered when he slept — so skilled was he at waking before her and sleeping after. She knew sense of duty dictated that he never leave her unprotected, but somehow that had translated to him never dropping his guard even in the comfort of their bedroom. The same severity he showed to his enemies radiated behind closed doors, even if it was for her own sake. Obviously, he had expected her to stay the night in Farrell.

He was sprawled on his back, head tilted toward her with black bangs hanging in his eyes, one hand resting on the plane of his stomach while the other was tucked beneath his pillow. His mouth, normally warped by a scowl, was soft, the muscles of his face relaxed in a rare moment of vulnerability.

For once, she could see his youth.

Fingers reached out to brush the hair from his eyes, lingering at his brow before feathering through the dark locks tenderly. So precious… He would hate it if he woke to find her watching him.

Feeling sudden boldness rise in her chest, Sira leaned forward, pressing lips to his forehead where his hair had been swept away, her hand dropping down beside his shoulder. She grinned to herself, feeling mischievous triumph roll through her chest. For a man who prided himself on his wariness, he certainly slept like the de–

One clean roll and her legs were tangled, body trapped beneath familiar weight. Silver eyes bore down into her own with wry irritation.

Oops.

“Stealth was never your strong point.”

Her protest was silenced by his mouth.

~ by eeratka on March 19, 2008.