Gishy Yuck - take one
It was a secret.
Danea's back pushed the length of his front, bodies aligned, strong arms wrapped around her waist; he provided a sense of love and safety she could not overlook.
A terribly unacceptable predicament.
"I hate you," she muttered, eyelashes fanning against pale cheeks. She was afraid to look outward. Such emotions as this were not real.
"I need you," Corvan's voice ghosted in return, skittering across her skin, his breath warm at her temple. Cool knuckles stroked up and down her throat and there was a silent glory in him because she had not yet turned away.
"You need nothing!"
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, but too late did he recognize the folly as her nails had already slashed the side of his face, her torso half twisted in anger.
He did not react. A body made of iron would have given more yield as he beat back instinctual rage; but she was Danea and no harm would come to her.
She twitched slightly in his hardened touch but did not otherwise protest; anger was a sign that she was back in control.
One of his hands wrapped steely fingers around her wrists while the other rose to inspect the damage.
It was a minor wound and would heal in a matter of minutes, but damn if her nails weren't sharp.
His fingers came back with blood which he considered.
He considered too the fear in her eyes which meant good things, bottomless eyes of blackened red that he had looked into through how many faces?
Slowly those fingers rose, flickering beneath her nostrils before smearing his blood on her lips.
Her tongue stilled in a concerted effort to not taste, fear increasing exponentially with the rage.
What an interesting afternoon they were having.