Playing with Fire - Of loss and grief

Prologue

The moonlight has the curious power of shedding mystery and romance over everything it touches, making the scene of the most brutal crime look innocent and peaceful. Now, it was capable of making the nest of lust and perversion look dreamy and ethereal, even though the air was still vibrating with sighs filled with lust.

The room was silent now, the hour of the wolf. The night breeze played with the sheer drapes, but there were no candles to dance since the light of the full moon was enough for the man and the woman. For now, even the restless books filled with arcane power were quiet; even the artifacts resting on the shelves, that usually seemed alive as entities, were sleeping now.

The man ran his hand up her body, savoring the touch. Her skin was silky, soft enough to make his hands seem even rougher. Warm as if she was bathed by the sun. Flawless and untainted. Delicate and fragile.

Her chest moved up and down below his hand, and for a moment he felt her heart, barely contained by her smooth skin. It ran wild, fast, even though her breath was starting to calm down. He found her slim neck. She let out the sweetest of sighs when he closed his hand around it. Her heart was beating faster, her life running through her veins - and he could feel it, right there, in his hand, pulsating like liquid fire. It felt like he was holding her life in his hand, just the smallest squeeze was enough...

"You like that, don't you?" he said, in that silky voice. "Aren't you afraid?"

She stared at him. Her eyes still shinning, her cheeks still blushed, pleasure still running fresh in her veins. Their silhouettes were only partially revealed by the soft moonlight coming from the balcony, and as most things revealed by moonlight, it seemed more romantic than it actually was. As innocent as two lovers after their embrace.

They were as different as the moon and sun. She was a delicate elf, her long white hair spreading all over the round bed and reflecting the moonlight. Her curves were perfectly smooth and her skin pale and pinkish as if she has never seen the sunlight. The man, on the other hand, looked like a sailor. Tanned skin, defined muscles and messy curls of hair as black as a raven. Rough hands - she liked those rough hands. He looked like a human, but his blazing eyes were an indication of his true self, an indication that there was indeed something that made them look alike.

They were both creatures made of fire, with blazing eyes and fiery hearts.

He took a sniff of her; ran his nose along the warm flesh that shaped those voluptuous curves, inhaled her scent and thought the pleasure running in her blood was pouring out through her pores. It was the scent of lust, pure and maddening. Every inch of her was made to drive men mad with lust.

"Afraid?" she said, and a smile curved her lips. "Not of you..."

Oddly enough, he didn't feel insulted. Not now. He opened the belt that kept her hands in place and rubbed lightly the marks on her wrists, tainting her flawless skin.

"Besides...," she continued, touching lightly on his neck with the tip of her fingers. As she did it, a thin line of arcane runes shone softly, circling his neck like a leash. "I guess I can handle you."