Slowburn | Enemies to lovers | dark romance | false prophets | Space Opera | triangle | strong femme characters | eventual Romance | Eventual smut |
A desperate Baron.
A yearning Duke.
A woman who weaves destruction with an army of fire.
In the m...
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Feyd swung his sabre as Hawk bounded on the ground. The pressure on her lungs capsized, knocking the wind from her and sending the taste of blood into her mouth. The kick that Feyd pounded into her ribcage did not help either. She clutched the blade, dragging the tip across the stone with a screech.
"I'm already down," she moaned, staring up at his unrelenting glare.
Feyd poised the sabre tip at her throat, centimeters from destruction. His dark eyes shifted in the light of the calcite, and she swore they glowed red for a moment. It was fitting, a man that looked like chaos incarnate on the inside should reflect that at the surface. His beauty had always been unfair, like an unassuming snake that held enough venom to incapacitate an army.
"I can see that," he growled.
Hawk carefully slid her waist plate off and tossed it with a clink against the wall. Feyd sneered, in pride or puzzlement, it was difficult to decipher. She lifted the fabric of her armor to show the black marks that weaved over her bodice. A pageantry of looming death.
"Will you truly find joy in destroying me while I am already broken?" She asked, "would it not be easier, and more pleasurable, to watch me suffer slowly?"
"You were already broken when I found you," he mused, "though I didn't know the extent of it."
Feyd did not relinquish his blade, but he leaned down to trace the frenzied lines on her stomach. His hand was warm, likely from the fires that the flame thrower slung over his shoulder had brought. His touch sent a dangerous spark over her abdomen, one that nearly cost her a head as she moved against it.
"How limited.." he asked with careful thought, "is your time?"
Hawk rolled her eyes, "hours, if I go without the tinctures that they give me. Beyond that, I am uncertain. They say it depends on how strong I am."
"They?" He asked, rocking the blade and peering about the clearly inhabited surroundings, "Galicine doctors? Moritani that have fled? Don't tell me that little boy thinks he is a duke and a healer?"
"There are things that exist on this planet beyond our immediate comprehension. Beings you should heed and fear, though I know fear means little to you," she mused. It was lovely to see him crestfallen, staring down at her heaving chest and questioning his next decisions.
"I don't have time to listen to insanities," he spat, "Where is he? I want both of your heads for my mantle."
Hawk shrugged, which only fueled his anger. He traced a line from her neck to waist and pointed the blade at the wound. "I can cut the poison out of you, if you'd like."
"Tempting prospect," she cooed between a hard swallow. "What does killing him get you? The palace is yours already."
"There is little glory to be found these days," he returned, "I make it where I can."
