7. Chapter 6 Svenn
Chapter 6 Svenn
I made a mistake. I should have ended this by staying away. But like a complete fucker I tempt with fate. Now I pay the price.
“Again, Svenn.” Rhianelle backs away after hitting me with the back of her sword.
Her steps are nimble and light. It’s like fighting with the wind.
A week has passed since we started this routine practice, but this fixation with Rhianelle has not faded. I’ve began to relish the time I spend with her, stolen moments between us whenever she’s not busy with her council. Our training usually would calm my darker urges for her, but not today…
I know for a fact that Nel touched herself in the bath this morning.
She does that sometimes, especially after she had one of her sweet dreams instead of nightmares. I keep wondering who the fuck she imagined herself with. One of her fucking knights? The dense smoky-haired assassin? The lord of the castle?
Rhianelle strikes me again, as silent and deadly as the night. I narrow my eyes to slits the moment she taps my chest with her hand. The subtle touch sends a throbbing need to my cock.
It completely messes me up.
“You’ve lost three rounds in a row,” she declares, wearing an adorable, triumphant grin on her face.
I’m barely keeping it together just looking at her. Rhianelle had to add her touch to my torment. This sweet creature is completely oblivious to my internal struggles.
“Should we go for another or do you need to rest?” she says, pulling her smooth, long silver hair into a bushy ponytail. It bounces around like a wicked taunt every time she moves to evade me. I imagine tugging it as I feel her come all over my cock. Just like that my body becomes paralyzed with lust.
She cranes her slender neck to read my next movement. I should be focussing on her openings, but instead my gaze trails from her mouth down to the hollow of her throat. I know her sneak attack is coming from the right. Her eyes are full of fire as she swings the blade. Instead of evading, I want to walk right in and burn in that flame.
Rhianelle pulls on my leather vest, tapping my flank with her sword.
“That’s my fourth win.” Her lips tug into a playful smile.
This is borderline cruel.
I can’t help but think that this is hell. A special one designed for me.
“Are you all right, Svenn? You seem distracted,” she muses.
“I guess I am.” Her scent floods my senses, filling me with need. The pull is so great that I have to physically take a step back from her.
“Did you stay up late reading again?” She gives me one of her innocent, blinding smile. The girl doesn’t know how she can make me feel a million different emotions just by doing that.
Her soft body gently grazes mine as she falls for the opening I left for her. I was supposed to pretend as a sluggish orc, but I jump at the opportunity to be close to her.
I dart to the side, snatch her wrist, and slam her against the tree. We are both breathless, the wind crushed from our lungs as I pin her there.
“That’s cheating.” She stares up at me, looking like the most edible fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
“Doesn’t matter.” The words come out in clipped grunts. “I have you now, little fawn.”
I make sure the words are whispered to her sensitive ear.
A faint blush colors her cheeks over our proximity. Her eyes crinkle with warmth and light… before her lips pull into a full smile. She taps my chest with her free hand. “And I have your heart.”
Take everything you want, Nel.
“You’re not even fighting back,” she protests, tapping my chest again with a mocking stab. I am suddenly aware of every part of me that’s touching her.
This elf truly knows how to fuck with my mind. And she’s not even trying. It’s becoming unbearable.
I step away and clear my throat. “I don’t think I can do this today.”
Her expression falls. We barely broke a single sweat and I’m ceasing this practice session prematurely.
Rhianelle nods wordlessly.
I know she was looking forward to this training. I see her determination at the end of each of our brutal drills, writing everything she had learned in her little notebook. But this thing writhing in my chest makes me feel as if my heart is pumping hot molten metal instead of blood.
I told Rhianelle I had better control of our weird connection.
It’s a fucking lie.
I don’t.
My mind is infested with inappropriate thoughts of her. I welcome them when I’m alone in the dark of night, but not right now when she’s right in front of me.
“I should go,” I say, making my way from the field towards the courtyard.
The girl collects her waterskin from the ground and trails quietly behind me. I keep my gaze trained ahead to avoid seeing the disappointed look on her face. An awkward silence sets in between us as we tread along the marbled terrace bridging one column of the keep to the next.
“Are you heading out later?” I hear her ask.
“Yes,” I breathe a reply. I will have to go as far as the southern fae kingdoms to kill this strange pull. I walk faster to get away from her.
“I bet it’s fun to fly. Have fun,” she wishes sincerely, halting her track. The lovely ring of her voice will dance in my head all the way to Avalon.
Ten steps from her and my stomach begins to churn. Fifteen steps and chaos erupts in my brain. Twenty steps… The weight in my chest grows heavier the further I walk.
I heave a sigh.
Leaving her is the most rational thing to do right now. But where Rhianelle is concerned I can’t think straight.
Suddenly I’m not ready to let her go.
I turn around to find the girl struggling to drag a heavy garden vase twice her size.
My brows shoot to my head. I leave her for two seconds and she’s already up to something.
The girl finishes moving the damn thing by the time I get to her side. “What are you doing?”
It takes a few beats for her to catch her breath.
“The flowers are not getting enough light and water underneath this roof,” she says, not answering my question. “I have the evening free. I’m going to move them out into the open.”
I don’t think the shriveled thing in the pot can even be called a ‘flower.’ The stem has wilted and the leaves are curled.
“It’s useless,” I tell her flatly. “The lord of the castle said he couldn’t afford the people needed to tend this garden.”
“I know… but at least they will have a chance here along the patio,” she muses, stroking the leaves tenderly. “The sunlight and rain will take care of the rest.”
Rhianelle grabs the next one before I can say more. The vase’s new spot may not be far off from its original resting place, but there are forty-eight pots on the marbled terrace. Is she planning to move all of them?
This is such a meaningless act. Why would it matter? They’re just plants.
But I can’t bear to watch the limp girl carry on with the heavy lifting.
“Let me—”
Before I can offer Rhianelle my help, shadows pulse around us, gaining a life of their own. This is the work of none other than Coinneach, one of the Night Lords sacrificed to the Rhunhraefn. A fiend that arises from the deepest bowels of hell.
That vile being is now heading straight towards Rhianelle. She has her back turned, completely unaware of the incoming danger.
My heart crashes in my chest.
Stop! I command the bastard.
I was careless and now I can’t shut him down. He morphs his silhouettes into the hulking figure of a man—into me. At least that means he carries my weight. I can tackle the beast to subdue him. But he’s far too close to the girl. Any sudden movement may endanger her.
Shit.
Coinneach creeps behind Rhianelle silently, tapping her back. My breathing stalls. One slash to her throat is all it would take for him to end her. I’ve seen him do it to my enemies multiple times.
The horrific act I predicted does not happen.
The Lord of Night bows to her instead.
Rhianelle blinks at his gesture.
I can only imagine the fear running through her mind as she stares at the moving void.
No voice, the demon points to his throat.
The girl nods understandably.
My lungs compressed with terror with every second that passes.
“Svenn…?” She spins to look at me. I expect hostility or fear when I meet her eyes, but it’s not there.
Rhianelle is looking back with excitement. “I think your shadow is trying to speak to me.”
Behind her back, Coinneach shifts into the shape of a man hanged on a noose, then points at me.
Don’t you dare badmouth me to her, he threatens me.
Rhianelle whirls towards the demon and he turns into a gentleman once again. She approaches him as carefully as she would approach a shy bird perched on her balcony. “Do not be afraid. I’m not going to harm you.”
Of all the things I thought she would say, I did not expect that.
I don’t know how Rhianelle manages to be so calm in the wake of this terrible monster.
Allow me to lend you a hand, sweet girl, he signs.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t get that,” she says, giggling.
So, he shows her what he meant.
Shadows ripple wildly from every dark corner of the garden. The wispy tendrils move towards another vase and starts tugging it.
Rhianelle clasps her hands to her mouth. “Wait… Are you trying to help me?”
The Lord of Night nods eagerly to her.
He pretends to not know where to place them several times just so she will come to his aid.
“Right here,” she says, directing him patiently.
I lean back against the pillar and watch them through narrowed eyes. Despite the coiling fear in my gut, I don’t interrupt their strange interaction. It’s not that I care much for the demon’s warning, but it amuses me that a monster who was made to annihilate, conquer, and slaughter, has turned into a docile garden helper.
Within a few moments, the dark creature has successfully transferred every pot to Rhianelle’s desired location. He could have completed the task earlier if he wasn’t flirting with her at every opportunity.
“Thank you so much,” she says, awarding him with one of her winning smiles. “I don’t think I could have done this without you. You’re amazing.”
A simple praise from her has my heart soaring.
When did I start craving for her affection so damn bad?
I can feel the swell of pride from Coinneach too. Now each one of the bastard beasts in me wants to show Nel their abilities like some jester desperate for attention. I reel the Night Lord and his shadows to return to me.
“Where did he go?” the girl asks, looking around for him.
“He’s tired,” I tell her.
Liar, the shadow demon writhes from my control.
Now guilt covers her features. “I didn’t mean to trouble him. Tell him to get a good rest.”
“I will,” I say to ease her conscience.
“I’d like to meet him again.”
At that promise, the demon stops thrashing in my head. Not just Coinneach, but all the beasts sacrificed to the Rhunhraefn. The girl’s tolerance to the Night Lord has given them a false sense of hope.
Fools.
It’s ridiculous to think something like her would ever accept the hideous likes of them. But I do appreciate the quiet tranquil in my mind.
The girl places a hand on her waist, studying the patio with a smile. “I think the plants are going to love their new spot. Maybe they’ll even grow flowers.”
The words of a dreamer.
This small gesture amounts to nothing on the scale of this vast universe. The world remains a fractured and ugly place. These goddamn plants know it. I know it.
Rhianelle sits on one of the benches, poking the ground with a long stick. There’s a melancholic look on her face. I can’t even begin to guess what’s causing it. All I know is that I can’t leave her now.
I settle beside her. She’s so close I can feel the heat radiating from her body. I don’t let my eyes wander to her long slender legs or the curve of her waist.
“I thought you were leaving,” she muses.
“I guess I’m not,” I mutter.
The silent stretches between us.
Rhianelle tilts up her head to look at me. “Where did you fly to yesterday?”
“Ironwick,” I say curtly. “You can hear the shrieking of the Fae King’s fell beasts all the way from the town.”
“The wyverns.” Her eyes grow wide like a curious kitten.
“Tell me about them,” she asks with an earnest curiosity. The girl flips out a notepad to write.
It’s natural for the Elven Queen to want to know about her enemies, the ancient, primeval beast that is descendants of the dragons.
Most of the wyverns in Avalon are winged fire drakes that can lay waste to an army of thousands in a single breath. Their scales are harder than most metals and armors. Ordinary arrows will not be able to penetrate their body. When they take flight, the sky grows dark with their wings.
I feed her every single detail as best as I can.
Her pupils dilate and double in size with my passing words. “Is it true that the young ones have different colors than the adults?”
“Yes, the full grown, in their prime mostly have black scales. I haven’t seen any hatchlings. They’re hidden deep in the caverns by their protective mothers. But the juvenile ones have various colors, from turquoise to auburn, and even gold.”
I keep divulging every information I know of. But what does the color of their scale have to do with battle strategies?
Her brows knit for a moment but then a faint blush covers her cheeks. “I wonder if there’s one with a rose-colored scale.”
I fight a smile at that. The bastard Coinneach suggests I steal one of the tamer wyverns and paint it the coral color Rhianelle loved.
“Do they laze in the daylight like Blaire’s lizard?” she asks again, her lips pulling into one of her bright smiles.
The fuck is a Blaire’s lizard, I almost ask, but I answer her all the same. “They climb the rocky terrain of Ashenstone to sunbathe. I saw one of them in a pale-mauve color like your dress.”
I add the last unnecessary detail for her.
A strange yearning twinkles in her eyes. “It must have been beautiful to watch their scales glisten under the sun.”
They are your enemy, I almost remind her. The fae have tamed those beasts to mount them. They are bonded to their riders, the fae dragonlords, for life. Their loyalty and devotion to the Fae King are unyielding.
“How many do you think there are?” she asks.
Finally, a tactical question.
“Hundreds as far as my eyes can see. But the chasm of Magehorn runs deep. There are probably more in the cavernous pockets below grounds.”
A heavy, tense silence follows and her face changes into something solemn. I guess she finally remembers those fire breathing beasts will be used to burn her kingdom into ashes.
“I can check again for a better estimate,” I offer.
Her hand grasps my forearm instantly. “No, don’t go. It’s dangerous.”
The fear on her face from before has tripled—no—magnified by a thousand. My eyes lower from her face to her tight grip on my arm.
She’s worried for me…?
Lilith and the other curse bearers would have made me go repeatedly, even if I was burned to death each time.
“I won’t go then.” My voice is strained. Her grasp on my arm loosens but she doesn’t remove her hands.
Good. Just stay there forever.
“I’m sorry I took a peek at your chart. But I saw that you marked the Fae Market in Avalon. Have you really been there?” she asks.
“I have. Both the Seelie and Unseelie one,” I say, and I regale her with the specifics of what I had seen. She listens to me with those sparkling eyes. It’s her world and yet I’ve seen more of it than she has. I wish I can just scoop her in my arms and show her everything.
That might not be a bad idea.
I take another look at the girl beside me. “I’m not in the mood to train today, but there is a place not far from here called Duskwood. It’s great for target practice. We can go there if you want.”
Rhianelle doesn’t need a lesson on archery. Her form already rivals some of the best marksmen I know. But the girl has been cooped up in this keep for so long. The only places she goes back and forth to every day are the council chamber and our room.
She needs this.
Wariness pulses on her tender face. “Duskwood is too close to the Red Road. Aelfric will get mad if we run off near the fae territory.”
There is not a realm in this universe in which I care about what Eyepatch thinks. “Do you always listen to what he tells you?”
She juts her lips and pouts at the challenge. “Alright. Let me get my robe.”
In a few short moments, we secure a pair of rare breed of elven steed with a spiral horn protruding on its head. Humans have another name for them, but the elves call these beautiful horses Noctrals. The creature will travel to any distance its rider desires, as long as the sun is shining.
We ride out of Windhaven’s gate into the field of greenery that seems to stretch all the way to the fae border. I thought the distance will stop this hunger curdling in my gut.
I am a fool.
Her flawless skin flushes in the soft light of day and the wind carries her sweet scent to me. It’s almost like the sun and the breeze are all conspiring with her to fuck with my head.
A mischievous grin spreads across her face as she nudges her Noctral to chase the horizon.
Careless, wild, and free.
This is the real Rhianelle. I like that she bares this hidden part to me.
“Are we there yet?” she suddenly asks, cantering her mount beside mine.
Crap.
I did not think this through.
The Noctrals know I don’t really have a destination in mind. I suppose they took pity on me because they recognize a spirit of their ancestor sacrificed to the Rhunhraefn. They brought us to the edge of Duskwood, lined by leafy green trees. I rub the stallion in between his ears and quietly mutter my gratitude.
“This is it,” I say, dismounting swiftly. “This place is safe and perfect for our training today.”
I move to her side to keep her steed steady. Rhianelle draws one leg over the saddle and lowers herself to the ground gracefully.
Guilt creeps in my damned heart watching her carry the heavy elven long bow behind her back. The girl draws closer to me, eyes bright and eager to learn.
My fucked-up mind comes up with something quickly. “You see that birch tree over there?”
“Yeah?” She nods, squinting her eyes in the direction.
“There’s a hole on the only orange leaf on the third branch. That’s your first target.”
It’s an impossible task, but I need an excuse for dragging her out here in the middle of nowhere.
The girl is quiet for a moment.
The shadow of remorse grows bigger in my chest, twisting and writhing. I shouldn’t have lied to her. Several heartbeats pass and she finally notches the black-feathered arrow on her bow. Her brow wrinkles in concentration.
The bowstring thrums and she releases the arrow. I follow the movement of the shaft as it smoothly passes the narrow hole on the leaf.
Impressive.
“What’s my second target?” Her voice noticeably changes.
“The same,” I challenge.
The girl draws back another nocked arrow. She hits the mark again, splintering the first arrow with her second.
Once might have been pure luck… but twice…
She turns and her gaze locks with mine.
My mouth goes dry and a spidery sort of chill runs down my spine.
There is nothing mortal in her eyes. They are fierce and penetrating. It’s like the goddess of the hunt itself has possessed her. For the first time in my existence, I feel naked without a proper weapon by my side, like I’ve finally found an equal in the battlefield.
I swallow hard. “Rhianelle?”
My voice startles her.
One blink and my soft girl returns.
I shake my head, wondering if I had imagined what I saw a second ago.
“I can’t do it for a third time, though,” she says.
I quirk an eyebrow.
“This position, it strains my back. After two arrows my balance goes… wonky.” Rhianelle demonstrates how this one barely made it past a foot away from us.
She suddenly stumbles forward and crumbles to her knees.
I am beside her in an instant. “Are you all right?”
She nods with tight lips. “I’ve been building up my core strength like Aelfric taught me, but I still need more practice.”
Hearing her utter Eyepatch’s name for the second time today makes me feel downright murderous. But she sounds so proud with her improvement.
“Can we work on my endurance next?” She lifts up her head and smiles.
“Yes.” I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
She stares up at me and a visceral emotion lights up in my chest. Her eyes sparkle with a certain innocence, the kind that makes me want to tarnish. It’s her lips that draw my attention most, curved in a divine—
Thunder cracks through the sky, the roar reverberating through the ground below us. It’s almost as if the heavens themselves are pissed at me for daring to touch a creature that belongs to them.
“It’ll rain soon,” Rhianelle mutters, looking up to the sky.
“Come with me,” I tell her. I guide the girl and the Noctrals to the nearest hollow cave. It’s supposed to be a bear’s den during the winter, but the occupant is not home right now. If it is, I’ll just kill it.
We enter our shelter just before it begins pouring.
Instead of bundling herself under the heavy cloak, Rhianelle is making sure our mount is covered and well protected from the cold.
I stalk her silently in the dark.
I now have her all to myself. Silly little fawn.
There will be no interruption here if I make a move. I’ll slide into her to the hilt, feel very shuddering convulsions as she tightens on my cock. The gasps and moans she will make. It will all be for me, because of me.
What the fuck?
I shake the thoughts from my head.
All the depraved, darkest fantasies playing in my head are magnified, thanks to the goddamn bond.
Rhianelle’s ears twitch and she nervously avoids my gaze. An awkward silence descends as she distances herself to the other side of the cavern, near the entrance. My prey seems to be able to recognize the threat to her wellbeing.
Clever girl.
I gather flint to light up a fire. Once I’ve gathered enough wood, flames erupt from my fingers.
I lift up my brows in surprise.
The fire creature sacrificed to make me is one of the most defiant beasts to control. A noble creature and a descendant of the seraphim, the Cyntefin. I have heard of one exception where it granted one of Vlad’s descendants whom it found worthy to wield its ability. But the beast had never allowed any of the Strigons to manifest his power.
‘Dark servants of the Rhunhraefn,’ the creature called us. ‘I shall never bow before you or the witch.’
But for Rhianelle, he would lend me this.
I listen to their dark whispering at night. Every single damned beast in me wholeheartedly accepts her.
They want her.
The chill in the air pricks against my skin. I can only imagine what it’s doing to Rhianelle by the chattering of her teeth. I move towards the entrance and settle next to her.
I had every intention of leaving her today, yet I can help myself when I grapple her slender waist, pulling her closer to me. Her eyes widen as I do.
“You’re cold,” I say.
Rhianelle sucks in a breath, tensing in my arms. “I’m not.”
“Your teeth say otherwise,” I say.
“I’m fine, really.” She traps her lower lips with her teeth. Now I’m tempted to warm up her lips too.
“Well, I’m cold,” I lie. “I need this.”
The last part is not a lie.
Rhianelle may not care about her own wellbeing, but when it comes to others, she’s incredibly concerned. After a while, she snuggles closer, soaking up on my warmth.
She takes my hand into hers. “Are you still cold?”
Like the trickster in fables, I nod.
She cups my hand into hers and blows a warm breath over my skin. I will the bond not to put any perverse thoughts over her innocent act.
“Better?” She tilts up her head and asks.
I nod.
Why is this silly fawn looking at me with such trusting eyes? I’m the last person she should feel safe around.
“Svenn?”
Not my fucking name but… “Yes?”
“Thank you for the training,” she mutters, her voice dropping low like an intimate whisper. “But I want you to know… you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”
Her voice is barely audible through the thunderstorm. “It’s not part of the Arawynn bond bargain.”
I will raise heaven and hell for you with or without the silly elven agreement, I almost say, but the words die in my throat.
“Training you takes us closer to reach my main purpose. Removing the Fae King’s head from his body,” I say, touching the tattoo on my inner wrist. “I will trade anything for my freedom from the Rhunhraefn.”
Her hand reaches for my face. There is a certain fondness in her eyes as she strokes my face with her delicate fingers. I lean into her touch, relishing in the warmness and comfort she brings.
“I know nothing is promised in life, but I will do everything I can to end your curse,” she says.
“I’ll hold on to that promise,” I manage to draw out.
A dark satisfaction fills me when she leans back on me, sharing her warmth. Since I am already going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly. I lower my head to the nook of her shoulder, inhaling her sweet scent deep into my lungs. Nel’s breathing shallows at the gesture.
I press my mouth to her neck, needing to taste her. I think I’ve crossed some invisible fucking line, but she lets me.
“You’re so soft, Nel. A wolf can easily eat you alive,” I mutter to her skin, drawing shivers from it.
“I’m not scared of wolves.” She pinches her fingers together and makes a shadow puppet of a dog. “Woof.”
What if one catches you and never let go?
Shadows swell around us and Coinneach makes his second appearance of the day.
Aww… fuck.
He’s been clawing beneath my skin to meet her. The Lord of Night is usually the least rebellious compared to the others, but he is an opportunist. He sees a chance to slip out and he takes it.
The bastard creates a shadow of a rabbit hopping in a meadow. Rhianelle chomps it with her shadow wolf.
That was unexpected.
Coinneach creates another one. She eats it again, laughter bubbling from her throat. I can’t help but join her. The strange sound of my own laughter echoing in the cavern catches me off guard.
Shadows expand around our campfire, undulating like ocean waves.
Show off, I mutter to the shadow spirit.
But I let him continue to perform and entertain her.
“This almost feels like an actual theatre,” she says, her eyes coruscating with awe and delight. “It’s beautiful.”
That’s not the word I would use to describe these creatures sacrificed to the Rhunhraefn. The Night Lord’s gift is perfect for slaughter and torture. But for the first time in my existence, it’s being used to cheer someone.
She breaks into another laughter when Coinneach creates hundreds of shadow rabbits in the light of the campfire.
For a moment I bask in that smile, letting her light banish all the rotten parts in my soul. But it is impossible. Some darkness cannot be infiltrated even by the brightest of stars.
I am broken.
Irreparable and beyond redemption.
Suddenly, the pain in that gaping hole in my chest becomes unbearable and I snap. I reel the shadow demon back into me out of spite. He goes frantic at the pull.
Please… Let me shake her hand first, Coinneach begs.
I relent to his wish.
The Lord of Night takes Rhianelle’s soft hand into his. A shadowy wisp of his finger moves, stroking her palm as he writes his name there.
“K E N,” she spells out the runes from his touch. “Ken? Is that your name?”
Kennaugh. Coinneach. Close enough.
He nods eagerly.
“Hi, Ken.” She pats the dark void, giggling when it curls around her. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
I’ve never seen a shadow smile, but that’s exactly what the Lord of Night does when she hugs him.
The sight of her embracing him warms me far more than it should. Coinneach disappears into mists and returns into me willingly.
“That was nice… the best,” she says. Rhianelle burrows herself into my chest like it’s the most natural thing to do. “You feel good too, Svenn. So warm…”
This is bad.
I had just shortened her life to three years, now I’ve got to ruin it whatever she has left too?
I should stay the fuck away from her.
But now that I have her in my arms, I don’t think I’ll be able to let go. She feels so fucking perfect there. It feels so right.
“Nel?”
“Yes?” She lifts her face to look at me. The sight of her flushed cheeks and wide eyes is surreal. I believed Rhianelle was a dream when I first saw her. She still seems ethereal and otherworldly to me.
Something heavy settles in the air between us. Our lips would be touching if she… tilts up her head.
Rhianelle does exactly that.
Shit.
Her eyes widen and her pupils dilate. That delicate face does the same odd thing once again as it turns red. The girl pretends to be indifferent to the pull of the bond, but I can hear her heart pacing a little faster.
We’re so close, I can kiss her if I want to.
And I want to.
So does she as she leans forward. I feel her rising heartbeat the closer she gets to me.
Then her ears suddenly twitch. “What’s that sound?”
Give me a fucking break—
My eyes roll to the back of my head at the interruption. I’d noticed this annoyance about half an hour ago. But I’m not quite ready to let her go yet.
“Save me!”
Fuck.