((OOC - disclaimer, this is awful and it's basically me trying to end the thread for our next thread and shuck some of the rust from not posting in the last few weeks -covers face in shame- next one will be better, i swear it))

It is hard to think straight with the blood pounding in her head, rushing fast and hot with the savage, primitive magic. It's even harder to rationalize when his fingers brush her skin, pulling her close and wrapping her in the comforting warmth that came with the blood bond between them. It's comforting, knowing that she can trust him completely - the bond insured that, and it allows her to relax into him, rest her face against his muscled shoulder without fear or anxiety to tighten her shoulders.

The trust sewn in blood between them makes it easier to succumb to the lust burning fire inside her, and when she kisses him, it is with mingled regret and desire, with that little voice in the back of her head telling her not to go down this road - but oh, it's drowned out by the louder voice telling her to take what she wants.

There is no greater satisfaction or shame than kissing Archer, and when she turns bashfully from him, it is for embarrassment at herself for losing control and allowing her more primal instincts to take the lead. But there's no going back, not as he so gently tilts her chin so that their mouths align once more, and certainly not as his mouth covers hers and she falls helplessly into that kiss, giving leave to the magic and lust so tangible in the air between them.

His kisses are fervent, fierce with his loyalty and his need and for these fleeting moments, she relishes in the idea of love and a life spent in the protective warmth of Archer's arms. She lets herself go, her hands searching the planes of his chest, sliding up and resting at the base of his throat, her fingers gentle as they trace featherlight across his skin.

Her green eyes open and she drinks in every part of him, memorizing the minute details of his face, the strong set to his jaw and the sharp, pointed slope of his nose. He is beautiful and she cannot help herself for wanting to keep him for her own; but this is not a love story, and so she pulls away from him again, sealing tight all the feelings erupting in her chest and locking them away.

You cannot afford to love, she reminds herself with a firm finality before turning her attention back to Archer, her lips curling into a smile despite the longing and disappointment rocking her. "We should get some rest, there's much work to be done," she murmurs, burrowing her face into her knight's shoulder, breathing him in and mourning all the things they can never have.