“I mean… not stop.But not that?Please.”The quickness of her breath interfered with her ability to speak full sentences.
She was so beautiful.I set my hands on my belt and relayed a question to her with a lifted eyebrow.
“Yes.Now.”
Since she demanded, who was I to deny her?I unbuckled and slipped my pants down.Then dragged my boxers to join them.
She fussed with the dress, getting it out of the way and welcoming me between her thighs.I slipped inside, holding on to the rush of sensations as I stilled.
“Ringo?”
“A minute, baby.”Patience wasn’t her strongest asset.While I had enough patience to make me a good hunter, that flew out the window when I was bespelled by the sensation of being inside her.I adjusted as I began my slow glide out, then in, over and over.All the while, I watched the subtle shifts of her expression.I studied her, the things that caused her eyelids to flutter closed, or the sharp thrusts that made her gasp.
Mine.Now and forever.An emotion I thought I’d lost a long time ago overwhelmed me.
I belonged.Not just to a family, but to someone I’d give my life for.Someone I could create a life with, not death.It was incredible and frightening.
Some might call love a weakness, yet I felt stronger than I ever had before.My mind and heart were aligned and tuned to a greater purpose.I was a husband.Someday, maybe even a father.
My skin prickled with awareness that this day pushed me into a deeper connection with life.No longer was I just an instrument of death, of finality, and solutions, but now I was part of creation.
The majesty of it made my breath catch and my knees weak.
This woman took me there.She initiated me into a rare gift.
With her cries of passion and the sharpness of her fingernails digging into my skin, I was reborn.And with the last thrust and the pulsing of my orgasm, I answered her call, falling or rising, I couldn’t tell which.But it changed me.
In the peace after, I caressed her skin.As my hand slid away, I lifted it to look at my palm.It was my left hand.The same hand Don Manca taught me how to memorize the history of assassins dating back to their service in Egypt and possibly before civilization kept records.With their left hands, they toppled empires, created dynasties, and most importantly, remembered that life and death are bound.Like the thumb and the pinky.But in between there is honor, duty, love…
I touched my ring, the first I’d ever worn.It would be the last I’d ever wear, God-willing.It sat between home and innocence as symbol of an oath.
“You like it?”Ellie asked about my ring.
“Love it.”Just like I loved her.
The noise from above got louder.Quickly I scrambled off Ellie and pulled up my pants.Meanwhile, she fussed to get her dress straightened out.
By the time Loppa tromped to the last step, she stood beside me, trying in vain to fix her hair.It only made the waterfall of her temporary curls fall apart faster.
“Forgive the interruption, the guests are asking for you two.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you,” I growled.
“If you’d been upstairs not?—”
I slipped my knife from its holster and brandished it to silence him.“You were saying?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s right.Nothing.”
I turned to Ellie and plucked a bobby pin dangling from one of her curls.“Here.Go find your sister or Kat so they can help you fix your hair.I have to kill this guy.”
Loppa made a noise that sounded suspiciously like suppressed laughter.
“What?We’re married.Don’t tell me you’ve never snuck off with your wife.”
He turned a shade of red I’d not seen on him before.
