She bested me once again.
Proving that when it comes to her, I’m nothing but a fucking fool.
I slide down to the ground in defeat, grabbing my temples and sighing.
When did this night go so awry?
Maybe when I arrogantly presumed she’ll be an easy catch, so I gave her enough of a head start?
Or even before that, when I decided she would be mine no matter how much she rejected me?
Is she right? I am so unaccustomed to getting no as an answer that I’m developing an unhealthy obsession with the one female who keeps throwing that foreign word at me?
And if she would finally give in, would I get bored and move on to the next conquest?
I don’t believe I would, but fuck if I know anymore.
I groan, dragging a hand over my face.
“What’s the matter, pretty boy? Got outshined by a girl?”
I raise my gaze, and there she is in all her stunning glory, hip cocked to the side, looking all coy and bemused.
“Where were you?” I ask.
She points a finger upward, and I follow the movement to the rooftops.
“It was kind of fun to watch you run around town, tracking me by scent, I assume, but never thinking to check the roofs.”
“I’m sure you had the time of your life, moonlight, at my expense,” I huff in annoyance.
“Now, now, don’t be a sore loser, pretty boy,” she says, laughing as she crouches next to me on the pavement. “I told you since we met; I am a much better spy than you are.”
She extends a hand, and I reluctantly grab it, letting her haul me up.
“It just so happens that I’m feeling quite generous right now, so even if you didn’t technically catch me, I’ll still grant you that one dance.”
“That’s not what I was going for,” I grumble under my breath, but I’m in no position to haggle.
Beggars can’t be choosers.
She leads me to the center of the vacant square and faces me slowly, placing a hand gently on my chest, the other one still clasped between my fingers. My heart thumps loudly against my ribcage at her close proximity.
“There’s no music,” I state the obvious.
“No need. Close your eyes,” she says as she starts humming low, and I let her guide my steps.
I focus on the staccato of her heels against the cobblestones, on her steady heartbeat against my chest, and on her soft voice purring a forgotten tune. I let my forehead rest against the crook of her neck, enveloped by her smooth tresses that smell like warm nights and unbroken promises.
“My grandmother used to sing this to Soren and me as children. A ballad for the fallen heroes of the past. A story of sacrifice and loss, but also hope and redemption,” she whispers softly against my jawline, shivers running down my spine in response.
Why do I feel the urge to lay my soul at her feet and let her tread all over it, with the naive hope that she will tread softly?
I’ve never felt this compulsion before, and I had grown so accustomed to chasing the pleasures of the flesh only, that it never occurred to me that one day I might succumb to the same madness of the heart like everybody else.
“This is, uhm, this is…nice,” I mumble in a subdued voice. She answers nothing, just keeps singing the same haunting tune in a language I don’t understand.
I let my palms glide slowly from the middle of her back toward her ass, stopping before the touch turns indecent.
