Page 35 of Her Fallen Angel

A growl tears from my throat. I should stop this. Should remind her gods are worthless and I am powerful, not some broken thing needing repair. But I remain frozen, caught between fury and desperate want.

Her voice grows softer, more intimate. "Let me be his light in the darkness. Let me-"

"Enough." The word comes out rough, raw.

She looks up, those deep brown eyes finding mine without hesitation. No fear clouds her gaze, only that damned compassion that makes my chest ache.

My magic pulses, responding to emotions I refuse to name. The urge to move to her, to claim her mouth with mine, to show her exactly what kind of darkness she's offering to take - it claws at my insides like a living thing.

I grip the frame of the door, wood groaning beneath my fingers. I shouldn't want her gentle touch, her soft words. Shouldn't crave the way she looks at me like I'm worth saving.

But Solas help me, I do.

18

ARENWEN

Igaze up at Kai as I help fasten the intricate buckles of his leather armor, letting my fingertips brush against his skin more than necessary. His violet eyes flicker down to meet mine, darkening at the deliberate slowness of my movements.

"The straps need to be tighter, little flame." His voice carries that edge of command that makes my breath catch.

I pull the leather strap with more force, feeling the solid muscle beneath tense at my touch. Heat radiates from his skin as I work, and I find myself memorizing each scar that marks his warrior's frame. My hands trail along his arm as I secure the next piece, noting how his wings shift slightly behind him.

"You're being bold today." The words rumble from his chest, but he remains still, allowing my lingering touches.

"I want to serve you well." I keep my eyes lowered, but my fingers continue their unhurried path across his armor. He's right. I've been growing tired of waiting and now I want to entice him.

I wanthim. But I have to wait for him to give into me again, and it's killing me.

His hand catches my chin, tilting my face up. Those violet eyes bore into mine with an intensity that makes my heart race. "Do you now?"

I wet my lips, watching his gaze track the movement. "Yes, sir."

The air grows thick with tension as I move to the final pieces of his armor. My hands shake slightly as I work, hyper-aware of his predatory stillness. Each brush of skin against skin feels charged with possibility.

His wings cast shadows across us both as I finish the last buckle, but I don't step back. Instead, I remain close, waiting. Hoping. The power radiating from him fills the space between us, and I find myself craving his next command with an intensity that should frighten me.

"What game are you playing, little flame?" His voice drops lower, dangerous.

"No game." I keep my voice soft, submissive, even as my fingers trace one final path down his armored chest. "I only want to please you."

He grunts, looks me up and down, and then turns to leave. I stay put, hating the way the house feels so quiet once he's gone.

The emptiness of the room weighs on me as I straighten the bed linens and arrange the pillows just how he likes them. My fingers linger on the silk sheets, remembering the heat of his skin beneath my hands.

I settle onto my pallet at the foot of his bed, but meditation eludes me. Instead, my mind drifts to the way his wings cast shadows over me, how his violet eyes darken when I please him.

Restless, I rise, moving through his room as I look for something to distract me. I pause at his wardrobe, running my hand along the leather and metal of his spare armor. The scent of him clings to everything - smoke and steel and power.

My chest aches at the realization that no one tends to these pieces but me. No one else sees how he relaxes, just slightly, when I brush his hair back from his face. No one knows that he lets out the smallest sigh when I kneel beside him or clean his hair.

No one sees the things that I do.

The courtyard calls to me, and I slip outside to my usual spot. But instead of my normal prayers, I find myself planning ways to draw out those rare moments of vulnerability. Like mastering the intricate braiding style warriors wear into battle. Something that will keep my hands on him

"It's just devotion," I whisper to myself, but the words ring hollow. The truth burns deeper - I want to be the one he trusts, the one who tends to more than just his armor. Even if it means losing pieces of myself in the process.

I close my eyes, feeling the sun warm my skin. My prayers today are different - not for salvation or strength, but for the wisdom to navigate this dangerous path I've chosen. To find ways to please him while keeping enough of myself intact to actually help him.

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