Not because of the way I looked and what I could do with my body. Helped push back that need to touch him that had nothing to do with the ardeur, and everything to do with power. The adrenaline was easing away. A sword, a horse, a shield.
The problem was, I didn't know how. He had two uniforms station themselves at the doors, and he told them to get their holy items out. I was cold, and I huddled in the borrowed jacket, burying my face in the collar. How fucking stupid was that?He did love me, but he loved his shame more.
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