The need to feel that you're alright

The Warlord's eyes were heavy, lidded as Isa pulled away from him. Putting distance between them. A part of him rose up inside of him telling him to grab her, hold her. Not to let her go. To have his way, if she wanted it or not. But he didn’t move an inch as she came to a stop, her own breathing heavy. His name sounded pleasurable on her lips, but her words were much more difficult to digest.

He closed his eyes, thinking of Zee as she had been in life. Warm, fierce, and sometimes broken. He thought of Deathbelle, the only other woman he had been with. How broken she had been from contact with him. For wanting, partly having, and then it being taken away. His voice was a rasp. “I want you, I want you now. I won’t regret you, but I don’t know if I would want you tomorrow. I don’t know if I can give you permanence, Isa. But I haven’t felt so alive in… in so long. The feel, and taste of you. I would have you, if you could give yourself over for a day. If you need promises, you should leave, and you should leave now, Isa.” He whispered. His voice grew a little darker, though his head lowered a little. His eyes lifted up to see her face. He didn’t move otherwise.


"Speech"