she fell for the idea of him
and ideas were a dangerous thing to love

She wonders how long they will go on like this – both of them simmering with some version of desire, but refusing to relent. Well, refusing is not exactly what she is doing. She does not typically refuse anything, and there is not much that Atrox could do that would be met with any kind of resistance.

But she withholds parts of herself, as she often does.
Because she has learned that letting herself feel all the things she was capable of feeling led her down a path of ruin. That once she let herself slip, even just a little, she was suddenly no longer in control of her own destruction. Because right now, the hold that she has over herself is tenuous, and she is afraid, as she always is, that admitting she wants something – or someone – is all it would take for the line to snap.

“Quite a few?” She echoes his statement with a laugh and a tilt of her haloed head. “I didn’t realize that was the reputation I had,” a coquettishly spoken lie, because she knows exactly what they say about her. And as with all rumors, there was a seed of truth that they grew from. She could have said no all those other times, she supposes – she could have hidden herself in Tephra, and maybe Skellig would have stayed, maybe her life wouldn’t be the never-ending stream of chaos that it seemed to be.

She never does say no, though.

The sharpness of his tone makes her pulse elevate again, similar to in the meadow, but it feels different now. Maybe because she knows that last time it had led to his teeth carving marks into her skin, and though she wants nothing more than to press back into him and see what it took to incite that again, she doesn’t. Instead, she holds his fierce golden gaze with the softly lit darkness of hers and she admits with a nearly hidden smile, “I have no idea what you like, Atrox. I’m still trying to figure that out.”

ryatah