Zavya froze, however briefly, when Einar’s arm wrapped around her waist—another shiver running down her spine that had nothing to do with being cold. Lips parted and pupils wide, she glanced toward his face as if she might say something, but in the end simply settled against his shoulder and wrapped her own arm around him. The Kelvic nuzzled in with a deep breath, slowly relaxing against him when the wine found its way back into her hand.
Taking another swallow, she let loose a dreamy sigh as the alcohol loosened her muscles and her anxiety both. Einar’s voice was a rumble in her ear where it lay pillowed against his chest, listening in fascination while he explained about this “Sunberth,” a city that sounded even nastier than the cesspool she’d just escaped. And that was where he’d come from? Explains a lot about him, actually… she thought idly, though the play of his hand against her skin was making it harder and harder for her to think much of anything at all.
Distracted as she was, Zavya still found herself enthralled as Einar spoke of his upbringing, the harshness of the circumstances that had borne him. Sympathy wasn’t an emotion she was used to feeling, but here it was in spades… a man forged of a childhood no happier than her own. Perhaps there was a kinship of spirit between them, after all. The Kelvic never would have guessed they shared as much tragedy as they did; it managed to endear the man to her all the more.
“What brought you to Ravok from this ‘Sunberth?’” she asked curiously when he wrapped up his story, enjoying his loose tongue more than she ever thought she would. The words were flowing as freely as the wine now, and she found she only wanted to learn more.
It would seem she wasn’t the only one, Einar asking after her own past and causing her to shift uncomfortably. Her life wasn’t something she spoke of easily… or really, at all, beyond the few brief stories she’d shared with Shiress. Was she truly going to share them with this man too? In spite of her reservations, it would seem that way.
A harsh laugh parted Zavya’s lips at that last comment, shaking her head before releasing a shuddering breath. “No, nothing’s ever been easy,” she muttered in agreement, watching his thumb brush over the back of her hand with a near single-minded attention. “From the moment I was born… I… no one’s ever cared about me. I was just an animal. No… worse than that. Animals have at least some bit of dignity. I was a thing. A thing that could walk and talk and eat and breathe, but a thing all the same.”
The tigress parted just enough from her companion to straighten up and look at him, weaving her fingers through the hand that would stroke hers. Her free hand took hold of the wine bottle, pouring several swallows down her throat to bolster herself to tell the tale. They were memories she hardly liked to visit, but after he’d spilled enough of his own sad stories, she figured it was only fair if she did the same.
“I was born in the Kelvic Research Institute,” Zavya began, dropping her gaze to their intertwined hands where she was squeezing a little harder than she intended. Loosening her grip, she went on, “I’m not sure how much you know about that place, but just… Never hope you end up there.” A shudder wracked her body, swallowing hard. “All you have to do is look at me to figure out some of the things they did to us. Not all of these scars were by Ryker’s hands.
“The main thing they kept me for was breeding. Or well… attempted breeding. They tried again and again… god, I don’t even know how many times they tried… but I never carried a baby longer than a few months. I always miscarried, and they couldn’t figure out why.” Zavya knew very well why, but even in this sharing mood, it wasn’t something she was ready to divulge to Einar. Perhaps another night.
“This… infuriated them. They did something to me that…” Pulling her lip between her teeth, she paused. It was another memory she couldn’t bear to voice aloud, what she could even recall of it. “I couldn’t get pregnant any more after that. Since I couldn’t have babies, they didn’t have a use for me anymore, and sold me off with that season’s excess.”
Another bitter laugh had her shaking her head, taking another long draught of the tart beverage. “Ryker bought me then. When he first took me home, I thought my dreams had come true. He was so kind, so gentle, so handsome…” Shaking her head, Zavya scoffed with a sneer of her own. “That didn’t last long. It was only a week before I saw the monster he really is. I was back in the same cage I’d always been in… this one was just a little prettier.”
Finally, her eyes raised to his again, raw pain warring with tired resignation in her gaze. Scooting a little closer, she gently pushed an errant strand of hair from the scarred half of his face. Her fingers lingered briefly on the ruined flesh, wondering at the story behind whatever had created such a horrific visage. She thought her own scars were bad, but his… Zavya shook her head.
“I’ve always been a slave, known I’ve always would be a slave, and my whole life… I’ve never had a choice. Not in anything.” There was passion in her voice, resisting a hiccup as she learned forward and continued, “From when I wake up to when I go to sleep. What I wear. What I eat, where I go, what I say… What I fight for. When I lay still.” Her heart throbbed within her chest as she took his hand, gently pulling it up her arm and to her waist. She continued in a husky murmur, “Whose hands caress my skin…” Leaning forward yet further, golden eyes were affixed to his mouth as she went on, “Whose lips taste mine…”
Zavya’s mouth came within a hairsbreadth of his, pausing for an agonizing tick as her voice dropped yet further to a whisper, “Who I lay with at night…” Closing her eyes, her forehead touched his before releasing a shuddering breath. Hesitating another moment longer, the tigress leaned back and dropped her gaze again to the ground—her hand still clutched tight around his. “None of it has ever been mine to choose. I’ve always had to live for stolen moments, the only times in my life I’ve ever been able to decide for myself. Before I met Shiress… or you… those moments were very few and far between.”
She paused before she lifted her gaze again. The Kelvic wasn’t sure why she was still talking, but once started, she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “But you know what? Sometimes these moments are even more frightening than the times I’m utterly helpless. At least then, whatever happens is out of my hands. I didn’t choose it, so I’m free of whatever follows. But moments like this? Where a word… or a touch… can change a life?” Zavya leaned back in, stopping a few inches from his face. Slowly, she shook her head, gaze raking across his mangled features. “I’m… paralyzed. Because I’ve never had… a choice.”
Taking another swallow, she let loose a dreamy sigh as the alcohol loosened her muscles and her anxiety both. Einar’s voice was a rumble in her ear where it lay pillowed against his chest, listening in fascination while he explained about this “Sunberth,” a city that sounded even nastier than the cesspool she’d just escaped. And that was where he’d come from? Explains a lot about him, actually… she thought idly, though the play of his hand against her skin was making it harder and harder for her to think much of anything at all.
Distracted as she was, Zavya still found herself enthralled as Einar spoke of his upbringing, the harshness of the circumstances that had borne him. Sympathy wasn’t an emotion she was used to feeling, but here it was in spades… a man forged of a childhood no happier than her own. Perhaps there was a kinship of spirit between them, after all. The Kelvic never would have guessed they shared as much tragedy as they did; it managed to endear the man to her all the more.
“What brought you to Ravok from this ‘Sunberth?’” she asked curiously when he wrapped up his story, enjoying his loose tongue more than she ever thought she would. The words were flowing as freely as the wine now, and she found she only wanted to learn more.
It would seem she wasn’t the only one, Einar asking after her own past and causing her to shift uncomfortably. Her life wasn’t something she spoke of easily… or really, at all, beyond the few brief stories she’d shared with Shiress. Was she truly going to share them with this man too? In spite of her reservations, it would seem that way.
A harsh laugh parted Zavya’s lips at that last comment, shaking her head before releasing a shuddering breath. “No, nothing’s ever been easy,” she muttered in agreement, watching his thumb brush over the back of her hand with a near single-minded attention. “From the moment I was born… I… no one’s ever cared about me. I was just an animal. No… worse than that. Animals have at least some bit of dignity. I was a thing. A thing that could walk and talk and eat and breathe, but a thing all the same.”
The tigress parted just enough from her companion to straighten up and look at him, weaving her fingers through the hand that would stroke hers. Her free hand took hold of the wine bottle, pouring several swallows down her throat to bolster herself to tell the tale. They were memories she hardly liked to visit, but after he’d spilled enough of his own sad stories, she figured it was only fair if she did the same.
“I was born in the Kelvic Research Institute,” Zavya began, dropping her gaze to their intertwined hands where she was squeezing a little harder than she intended. Loosening her grip, she went on, “I’m not sure how much you know about that place, but just… Never hope you end up there.” A shudder wracked her body, swallowing hard. “All you have to do is look at me to figure out some of the things they did to us. Not all of these scars were by Ryker’s hands.
“The main thing they kept me for was breeding. Or well… attempted breeding. They tried again and again… god, I don’t even know how many times they tried… but I never carried a baby longer than a few months. I always miscarried, and they couldn’t figure out why.” Zavya knew very well why, but even in this sharing mood, it wasn’t something she was ready to divulge to Einar. Perhaps another night.
“This… infuriated them. They did something to me that…” Pulling her lip between her teeth, she paused. It was another memory she couldn’t bear to voice aloud, what she could even recall of it. “I couldn’t get pregnant any more after that. Since I couldn’t have babies, they didn’t have a use for me anymore, and sold me off with that season’s excess.”
Another bitter laugh had her shaking her head, taking another long draught of the tart beverage. “Ryker bought me then. When he first took me home, I thought my dreams had come true. He was so kind, so gentle, so handsome…” Shaking her head, Zavya scoffed with a sneer of her own. “That didn’t last long. It was only a week before I saw the monster he really is. I was back in the same cage I’d always been in… this one was just a little prettier.”
Finally, her eyes raised to his again, raw pain warring with tired resignation in her gaze. Scooting a little closer, she gently pushed an errant strand of hair from the scarred half of his face. Her fingers lingered briefly on the ruined flesh, wondering at the story behind whatever had created such a horrific visage. She thought her own scars were bad, but his… Zavya shook her head.
“I’ve always been a slave, known I’ve always would be a slave, and my whole life… I’ve never had a choice. Not in anything.” There was passion in her voice, resisting a hiccup as she learned forward and continued, “From when I wake up to when I go to sleep. What I wear. What I eat, where I go, what I say… What I fight for. When I lay still.” Her heart throbbed within her chest as she took his hand, gently pulling it up her arm and to her waist. She continued in a husky murmur, “Whose hands caress my skin…” Leaning forward yet further, golden eyes were affixed to his mouth as she went on, “Whose lips taste mine…”
Zavya’s mouth came within a hairsbreadth of his, pausing for an agonizing tick as her voice dropped yet further to a whisper, “Who I lay with at night…” Closing her eyes, her forehead touched his before releasing a shuddering breath. Hesitating another moment longer, the tigress leaned back and dropped her gaze again to the ground—her hand still clutched tight around his. “None of it has ever been mine to choose. I’ve always had to live for stolen moments, the only times in my life I’ve ever been able to decide for myself. Before I met Shiress… or you… those moments were very few and far between.”
She paused before she lifted her gaze again. The Kelvic wasn’t sure why she was still talking, but once started, she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “But you know what? Sometimes these moments are even more frightening than the times I’m utterly helpless. At least then, whatever happens is out of my hands. I didn’t choose it, so I’m free of whatever follows. But moments like this? Where a word… or a touch… can change a life?” Zavya leaned back in, stopping a few inches from his face. Slowly, she shook her head, gaze raking across his mangled features. “I’m… paralyzed. Because I’ve never had… a choice.”
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