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“My name is Elena.”
A soft name, and one has to wonder if her forbearers foresaw that she would be feeble.
And yet, the way it rolls off her tongue sounds divine.
“I am Grixis, of Tempest.”
Her dainty hand covers mine, turning my cock to steel.
“Thank you.”
Her words, those words, can only mean one thing: she knows she’s unworthy. I must leave her to fend for herself.
But this weak woman moves me to madness.
Perhaps the acknowledgment of her weakness was due to her condition. She’s injured and has just taken down an endergulf, and given her size, that is no little thing.
I grab chunks of dried meat from my pack, handing her a large portion, because for the first time in my life, I find following my people’s sensible ways hard.
“Eat.”
She obeys, but after a few bites says, “I need water…please.”
My lip curls up into a sneer. “Why do you grovel? It’s as though you want me to leave you in your small, sickly state.”
“Huh?”
By now I should have it in my head that this…this weakling is not worthy of assistance. She cannot help my clan in any regard and should be left to elements and beast.
And yet…
I can hardly control my lust. I want to shred her shabby coverings so I can see her soft flesh again. I want to smell her. That place women guard with teeth and knives against unworthy mates. I want to taste her.
“I was only meaning to be polite.”
“Polite?” I snarl. “What is this polite?”
She cocks her head to the side. “You know, manners…”
Her kind is so weak that she must rely on the ‘manners’ of other races to survive. This all but confirms that I should not be assisting her.
And yet…
I grab a waterskin, then turn my back to her to add a pinch of syalia weed without her seeing. Then I extend it toward her.
“Drink.”
She sits up, taking the skin from me. Her lips curl into a smile. Another sign of weakness. I also cannot ignore that she drinks without question, which adds to my worries.
Her nose scrunches. I’m sure it’s because the syalia weed is bitter, but she continues to drink because she’s quite possibly as stupid as she is weak.
And after she’s had her fill, she hands the skin back, wiping a drop from her cracked lips.
I need to put some salve on them. They’re full, puffy. Unusual as the women of Tempest have such a slight smile.
She’s pleasant to look at, though every desirable quality she has should offend me.
If I were to kiss her, I’d have to be careful not to hurt her.
