A fierce warrior hiding fear.

“C’mon, Cherin… it’s your last chance.” – she told herself.

CL had been to that situation before.
She had captured a man, and he had been prepared for her.

Capturing a man, using him for your own pleasure…that’s what separates weak girls from fierce warriors. That is, in some’s opinion.

CL had captured plenty of men, and they had all been prepared for her.
But she had killed all of them.

A kiss, and they had sealed their death deal.
They had tried to make her submissive.
She had broken their necks.

This poet was her last chance.
“Not strong enough to tame your enemy, not worthy being one of us.” – CL had been told.

Her last chance.
Failing would mean the end of her life.
And how unfortunate.
Her last chance was Sandara’s brother.
CL could only pray he wouldn’t do the wrong thing.
She couldn’t kill her friend’s brother…but she would, if she had to.
What a shame it would be…

“Put him on the bed.” – CL told Sandara, exiting her tent.

That was her last chance.

“If he mistreats you, I’ll kill him myself.” – CL heard Sandara say before leaving.

Entering her tent again, she saw him, the poet.
He was handsome. Sandara had not exaggerated.

“I have to mark you, so that the others’ll stay away from you…” – she said, walking closer to the man on her bed – “because they can’t have what’s mine…”  - she made sure her lips would lightly rub on his.
Men always let their guard down for so little…

“Mark me?” – the poet repeated, as CL took the band from his eyes, and the chains from his wrists - “Is it going to hurt a lot?” – he asked. Was he afraid?

“Hurt?” – CL repeated. Her voice with hints of laughter – “It may…hurt me a little, more than it may hurt you, but it may be pleasurable for both of us…”

The poet looked so tense…
And of course, nothing escapes CL.
She noticed his expression.
“Are you afraid? – she asked, smirking.

“I’m not afraid!” – he defended, making his voice a little louder than it had been until now, standing up.

“Then…” – CL touched his chest, pushing him sat again - “Will you fight me?” – she teased, straddling his lap, facing him.
Her eyes deep on his, trying to overshadow fear.

“I’m a lover, not a fighter…” – she heard him say.

“I’m counting on that.” –  she replied, before touching his lips.

Unlike the others, it was soft, his kiss was smooth.

She caressed the back of his neck with a hand, while lightly pushing him laid with the other.

CL felt goosebumps upon feeling his hands caressing her lower back. Smooth, soft hands…
Not a fighter, as he had said.

The way he moved his body under hers, the words he said, and the way he touched her, kissed her, the way he treated her…
All he made her feel…

Definitely a lover.