She's got the devil's eyes
In hindsight, the progression of time, this inevitable conclusion, is so clear. A hazard for someone like her, to know and understand how she had brought herself (had brought all of them) to this point. Her intentions had been so noble, or so she thought, but she could never have anticipated what those intentions had wrought. Even if she could see her own fault in them so clearly now.
Still, she cannot bring herself to regret entirely. Finding him, bloody and broken, in that field so long ago now had set her on this path. Had brought her Brazen and Dagen. She could never regret them.
And Dovev. She’d fought him so long and hard, but now it feels almost as though it had been inevitable. He had terrified her, though she would never admit to such a thing. He might not believe it of her anyway. In a way, he still does. He has far too much power over her. But she is done fighting it. She is done suffering so fruitlessly.
She couldn’t erase the pain she’d caused, but she could stop opening new wounds. Her heart had always been feckless and foolish anyway. And if she were being very honest with herself, she might admit that their first meeting so long ago, when he’d seen the sharpest edges of her and admired them for their glint, was the beginning of the end for her. But she is not quite ready to be that honest yet.
She stills beneath his touch, her skin heating as he trails an almost imperceptible line along her spine and hip, then forward, to her shoulder, her jaw. A breath catches in her throat as she turns her gaze to him, a blue flame, so carefully contained. The scent of the island clings to him, crisp with the bite of snow, overlaying the coppery tang that she recognizes as his. As familiar as he is.
It’s so tempting, to lose herself in the moment. But she had not brought him here for her. Had not negotiated his freedom for this. No matter how much she might wish it.
The nip stings faintly, sending a shiver along her skin, bringing a heated sharpness to her gaze. She touches him then, her lips going to the edges of bone masking his face as he peers out at the island. “How will you see them if you’re distracted?” she murmurs, breath light against the curve of his cheek, suggestive even as her words remind him of his self-imposed obligations.
and they'll cut you like a weapon