Snippet #2633714

'I will not feign my confusion if I tell you that I am at loss, Commander,' she said. Watching his movements intently, she couldn't help but notice his obvious lack of armour, the comfort with which he carried himself around her. He believes I am no threat, he believes he is safe and sound, drowned in the naivety of his power. I am a Blackmont; we hold grudges.
'Let me fully understand that chain of incidents that led us to your cozy chambers...' Iaira sucked in air, taking a deep breath, mostly to earn herself time to probe through her memories.
'I save your men's life from the Whirlwind which- dragon descendants or not- would have stripped you down to your bones. I suppose people from Everlast must have a peculiar sense of gratitude for instead of thanking me for saving your worthless hides, you turned against me and my companion, attacked me with a severe case of outnumbering me and for the coup de grace you crippled me with one of those nothing if not crude and ugly crossbows.'
She heard his words with a tone of exaggerated disbelief, her slender eyebrow arching upwards. Iaira had no doubt that he'd chosen the Pacifier very, very carefully. 'Alas, let me continue. You imprison me and torture me with every means at your disposal. You tell me that in the eyes of your justice I am a wanted criminal and yet you did not let me die- which I would have, judging by the blood loss. I've killed enough to know that much, trust me, love.' She had to slow down now. Her voice was wearing out. When she spoke again, it was lower.
'And I awake in some luxurious room, wearing nothing but my perfume -hoping you at least had the good grace to spray me with some- and immobilised. Facing my captor and torturer, who has deemed armour to be redundant because he underestimates me. Who is up for some idle discussion, strangely.'
Iaira made a point of ignoring the shifting bedsheet and sat up, her eyes level with his now, unmindful of her own nakedness. Her voice barely higher than a whisper. 'Now, Commander, I know the pleasure of my company is exquisite. You don't have to remind me that. I do not consider you a man of risk to simply keep me around for it, however. There must be another motive,' she straightened as long as her restraints would allow, the leather taut behind her head as she edged closer,'So tell me, Weyellin,' emerlad locked in charcoal, 'Why am I still alive?'