Assailant
Her hesitation does not escape his keen senses, but he does his best to mask any outward reaction to it. How can he possibly blame her for any reticence when he himself has been clutching his cards so closely to his chest? Still, it is somewhat frustrating that she is far more unyielding than any other woman he has staked an interest in. The wheels of his mind turn as frantically as hers, though his are less driven by fear of the unknown, but rather in search of the most effective way to progress this relationship.
While her years of life are so few compared to the centuries of his, he is no more wizened in navigating these waters than she, so he is quietly thrilled that she does eventually fold at his touch. His ego sufficiently stroked by the feel of her lips at his mane, he huffs slightly at her words and offers what he feels might return the favor. “I’d wait another couple of centuries for the loveliest lady in Beqanna if that’s what she wanted.”
He allows the wing nearest to her to lift and drape over her back, wordlessly inviting her to fall further into his embrace with its warmth and feathery caresses as the tips drag along her skin. Though she may wish to hide hers behind those thick walls of her fortress, he does not mind if she feels the way his pulse quickens at the thought of bringing her nearer to him.
A smile spreads across his face, surely the broadest he’s given since their initial meeting, at her next words. Oh, how that statement further inflates his pride, his delight that she found nothing (and no one) that could fully draw her attention from him. He tilts his face closer to hers, not bothering to disguise the traces of elation in his dark eyes as he lets his breath wash over her again. When he speaks, his voice takes that rough tone again. “Well, I must say I’m somewhat happy to hear that.” And then, he gently presses his lips to the corner of her mouth.
The shiver that raced along her spine belatedly finds a way to creep along his skin as her touch dances across his neck, seizing the synapses in his brain so much so that he barely registers her question. He spends a delightful moment lost in this fog before his mind stumbles to catch up, to phrase an answer for her. Unlike her, he does not wrestle with the idea of falsehoods. In fact, he does not really give much thought to what he says, instead just offers the naked truth without considering the consequences of its bareness.
“Not much, just wandered and met a few friendly local ladies. One of them proved to be a great help, actually..” His voice trails off as his thoughts drift to Ryatah and the starry visions that had helped fill the gaps in his memory, not realizing that he might be sparking a destructive fire between himself and Adriana, especially given his colored past and the fact that the innocence of his meeting Ryatah could not be gathered from the natural brevity of his speech patterns..
All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware
--Martin Buber
@Adriana