He had crawled into my heart like a worm into an apple and then he sat there feasting on the flesh and bones and core- and I let him. I let him ruin me. No that is wrong, I lived so that he could ruin me. I knew it was a mission filled with danger - to be sent to a tribe whose men could crush my body all in the name of war. What a fool I was that I failed to consider the damage to my heart.

When I first saw him early one morning so long ago it was in the moments before dawn could touch him and he waited for her golden caress, poised still in the gentle mountain stream. It must have been cold, but you would not have known it to look upon him. When the first glimmer of light caressed his face he raised his sword from beneath the flowing water and held it aloft in the air until the sun reflected in its polished metal. He seemed to be praying, and then as if to some unknown cue from the elements he began a dance that was as fluid as the river itself. His movements were precise, his positions that of a warrior's and he hummed with an energy that touched my spirit. I knew then that I should not have attempted to deceive him, I should not have stepped out from my concealment amongst the trees and tried to win his heart. But, I lied to myself that day and it is a lie that I have been telling myself every day since- I did it for my people. Lie. I did it for myself.

His shadowed body embraced my own as if the months alone and apart were mere wisps on the wind. In my desperation to save so many I had cut out the heart of the one warrior I never wished to hurt. How could I blame him for coming here to do the same?

He smelled now of burnt embers and a metallic tang that is inhaled then tasted sharply on bed of the tongue. I wanted to run, I wanted to fight and despite myself I stepped closer into the thrum of his body, breathless as one iron hand gripped my skull. Each long armoured finger tenderly combed through my untamed crimson hair until the tip of every claw scraped against my scalp. He pulled me into him roughly taking my last facade of control so that not even my feet had the security of the ground beneath me. I closed my eyes against the rage that I knew was waiting there for me in his icy silver eyes that used to watch me with such affection, but I could feel his gaze inspecting me. It raked over my face, my neck, my weapon hanging  limp in my hand and then the sweet rush of his breath lapped over my parted lips. Still my eyes stayed sealed. I told myself that I was scared. I told myself that I hated this hardened warrior. Lies are hard to stop; they offer some small measure of protection and yet there was no protection from a man such as this. My lover had come to destroy me but in his arms I finally felt safe.