Siren

Siren - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

In the morning, the storm had weakened, and rain drizzled down the window panes and pattered onto the roof. Hooves clopped along the wet cobblestones and mongers shouted as to their wares. Clara stirred, and found herself curled against the body of a barely clothed Mallach. She blinked and recalled last night's events. She had screamed like a banshee, she remembered, embarrassed. She had probably woken the entire inn.

Somehow, the room had become chilly as Mallach had predicted. Not that she minded. It was only when she saw the open window that she was puzzled. Had he opened it, in an attempt to throw his knife outside? No. Her thoughts were fuzzy, but she never remembered that.

Sighing gently, she laid back against the bed, and glanced at Mallach. He looked less threatening while he was asleep. His hair was tousled, and his lips were parted slightly. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, and observed a tattoo wrapped around his right bicep. It was the body of an ancient Sumoian dragon, the mouth of the beast devouring its' own tail. Dead for a thousand years, the creatures had been killed by Sumoian warriors. Apparently, her father told her, her mother was a diplomat to the two sides. But talks had failed, and the Sumoians took over the land, defeating the unbeliveably large beasts with magic runes that were long lost by now.

Turning to his side, Mallach mumbled in his sleep. Clara couldn't make out what he was saying. Furrowing her brow, she edged closer, determined to hear what he had to say. She craned her neck towards his lips.

"Don't toy with me, I can be very determined..."

"Determined about what?" she asked.

"You think you can fool me, don't you?"

"Fool you?"

Suddenly, Mallach rolled over, pinning her between him and the mattress. His lids were half open, and she was frightened slightly. She felt what she thought to be the hilt of his dagger pressing into her thigh, and she held her breath.

"I know what you are."

"You... you do?"

"You're... you're..."

He leaned toward her, and kissed her on the lips. She wanted to struggle, to push him away, but the mere touch of his lips on hers was soft and inviting. She had never been kissed before. She gave in to him, and closed her eyes and twined her arms around his neck. It was when he parted her lips with his tongue and slid it between her teeth that she pushed him away.

"Gah, you pig!" she cried. You bloody moron!"

Mallach awoke with a start, and turned away from her.

"What happened? Was I dreaming? What?"

He had been sleeping! She looked down at her hands, and found that he had no real desire for her. Had he been dreaming of someone else perhaps? But desire for anyone else would have been wiped away by the curse. And why did she care, anyway? Her first kiss was from a self centered man who cared about no one.

"Urghhhh," he moaned, and ran his fingers through his hair. He reached for the tepid bottle of ale on the nightstand beside him. Chugging the remainder of it down, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Standing, he stretched. She saw his birthmark as his breeches rode up a bit.

"Cute," she mumbled.

"What was that?" He turned his head back towards her direction.

"Nothing."

After they had both washed and dressed, they came downstairs to meet Octavious sitting in a lounge chair, staring at a dark stain on the ceiling.

"Shameful leakage damage, what."