Pain lanced through him with every step. He didn't show it save for the slight stiffness in his stride and the bitterness in his eyes, riddled with more wounds than simply his shrapnel of bone. Skin hung loosely from a deep bite at his neck, coppery blood pouring freely. Various unseen bruises tendered his black hide, some ripped open from too-successful hits. It was a hard lesson learned today. His focus had slipped, he'd mouthed off. Because he never seemed to learn to shut the hell up. Neither did his roaming mind.
Even now her face haunted him. Focus.
Ever since Ashley had returned from the forest with that pathetic lump of skin, he'd been more and more brutal in their bouts. His enemy was out of his reach, and so Dovev became him. It took every ounce of strength, every wit of knowledge, to stay alive. Ashley was a hard man, and killing a failed student probably wasn't beneath him. It would be Dovev's own fault for slipping up. He would be his own demise.
This was why he had no memory of Before.
He couldn't afford to.
Dragon's wings in the sky caught his attention, and he easily angled toward the treeline where they sank out of view. Sabrael would have news on Ashley's little pet, and how soon he might give up his vicious torture. It was about-damn-time he released it on his true enemy instead. Surely the damn girl should be healed by now.
He weaved steadily through the dense jungle of the island, mindful not to bang himself up further. He needed as much of this to heal as he could before tomorrow. When it would begin again. His back left gave out beneath his weight and he stumbled forward awkwardly, breaking through the trees to the beach with a curse under his breath.
But it was not Sabrael, the handsome Ischian dragon-prince, who stood before him. Someone far more beautiful, more valuable than even a prince. He stared dumbly at her, not entirely convinced he wasn't imagining this. It would not be surprising, for how often she crept into his thoughts. For how often he could swear he felt her folded up next to him as he slept, as though she'd flown in at night just to hold him again. He'd never rested so soundly.
He could believe it was his mind giving him a fantastic illusion, except that she'd always had angel-white wings, and now they were the richest black. They still looked just as soft though..
Leliana.. he said in a slow breath, barely audible even to his own ears. Again, he felt vulnerable and laid bare before her, salty sea breeze stinging his open wounds. This was real, wasn't it? There should be angry males coming at him, shouldn't there? But she stood alone, a solitary vision of the only things he could remember. Such amazing things. That he'd stolen from her.
But she'd come anyway. She'd found him.
Was this a good meeting, or a bad meeting? Had she learned to hate him? He could only stand and stare, as though waiting for her to pass judgement on him, all thoughts of finding Sabrael lost. All thoughts of anything else, lost. His heart raced in uncertainty as he maintained a distance between them, and he felt more naked than he thought he ever had before. She was so right. So bad for him.
Ashley's going to kill me.
Ever since Ashley had returned from the forest with that pathetic lump of skin, he'd been more and more brutal in their bouts. His enemy was out of his reach, and so Dovev became him. It took every ounce of strength, every wit of knowledge, to stay alive. Ashley was a hard man, and killing a failed student probably wasn't beneath him. It would be Dovev's own fault for slipping up. He would be his own demise.
This was why he had no memory of Before.
He couldn't afford to.
Dragon's wings in the sky caught his attention, and he easily angled toward the treeline where they sank out of view. Sabrael would have news on Ashley's little pet, and how soon he might give up his vicious torture. It was about-damn-time he released it on his true enemy instead. Surely the damn girl should be healed by now.
He weaved steadily through the dense jungle of the island, mindful not to bang himself up further. He needed as much of this to heal as he could before tomorrow. When it would begin again. His back left gave out beneath his weight and he stumbled forward awkwardly, breaking through the trees to the beach with a curse under his breath.
But it was not Sabrael, the handsome Ischian dragon-prince, who stood before him. Someone far more beautiful, more valuable than even a prince. He stared dumbly at her, not entirely convinced he wasn't imagining this. It would not be surprising, for how often she crept into his thoughts. For how often he could swear he felt her folded up next to him as he slept, as though she'd flown in at night just to hold him again. He'd never rested so soundly.
He could believe it was his mind giving him a fantastic illusion, except that she'd always had angel-white wings, and now they were the richest black. They still looked just as soft though..
Leliana.. he said in a slow breath, barely audible even to his own ears. Again, he felt vulnerable and laid bare before her, salty sea breeze stinging his open wounds. This was real, wasn't it? There should be angry males coming at him, shouldn't there? But she stood alone, a solitary vision of the only things he could remember. Such amazing things. That he'd stolen from her.
But she'd come anyway. She'd found him.
Was this a good meeting, or a bad meeting? Had she learned to hate him? He could only stand and stare, as though waiting for her to pass judgement on him, all thoughts of finding Sabrael lost. All thoughts of anything else, lost. His heart raced in uncertainty as he maintained a distance between them, and he felt more naked than he thought he ever had before. She was so right. So bad for him.
Ashley's going to kill me.
