Tales of the Yas'el

Chapter One

Zardist Mountains

1089 C.D.

She shifted a little, murmuring in her sleep. Without disturbing her he drew up a lock of her hair, very gently, and held it pressed to his face. What ever he had done in his life to make the gods hate him so. He wished he could take back. The lies and thieving, he would take back in a heart beat if it ment Mora could be safe. With him she was a distraction, a liability that he couldn't afford. In the end it would get them both killed.

He scowled up at the shadows. Sorry, as it turned out, really didn’t help no one.

His fingers released her hair. He placed his arm over his eyes and commanded himself to go to sleep.

He would wake her. He would say something clever, like: “I have a theory about love, as it relates to idiotic tendencies."

And her brows would raise in that skeptical, enticing way she had, waiting.

“Its all about how far someone would go, to scratch the itch and the lengths someone would go for someone they love.”

“Is that what I am, an itch?”

“More like a rash. But I’m willing to scratch. If you are.”

Dream-Mora would say to him, “That is surely one of the least seductive things a man has ever dared utter to a woman.”

“Well,” he would reply, still clever, “but you’ve been cloistered away at your little school, haven’t you? How many men could you have known? Perhaps we’re all like this.”

“Goddess forbid that be true.”

“True. One of me, one of you.” He’d run a finger over her shell-pink lips. “It’s really all that’s needed.”

And then he would kiss her. Softly, deeply, using all his wiles and experience. And even though she hadn't known this part of a man, she would kiss him back. She would make that sweet little moan in her throat, the one that was just the right pitch to send him spilling over the edge of reason….