Addiction

She awoke, cold and disoriented. She remembered falling, she remembered the wolf, she remembered seeing the ground rushing up to greet her - and then darkness. Her eyes refused to focus as she groaned, blinking, and as they adjusted, the air about her seemed to glow from some unknown source - had she died? Was this somewhere beyond death?

The world suddenly came into focus, and with a painful start she realized the glow was not the afterlife, whatever that might be, but something much, much worse - the curious lighting of the innards of one of the spacecrafts of those she had been sent to observe. Obviously in her foolishness she had gotten caught. Eyes narrowing, she reviewed her situation. One of her precious daggers was gone, presumably still in the corpse of the wolf she'd killed - but the other was neatly tucked away in her belt. Why they hadn't thought to remove it she neither knew nor cared about - all that mattered was that she had some sort of protection. She'd viewed these creatures from afar, and their resemblance to the Eredar of the Burning Legion was...she hated to admit it, but it frightened her. She'd heard tales, quietly spoken over campfires and in hushed tones in many an inn of the Legion and its dealings. Although she was not a stranger to dark and disreputable tasks, dabbling in the black arts and demons were something far beyond her ken.

One leg moved slowly off the bed, and she sat up, trembling with effort. The world once again seemed to whirl around her as she stood and abruptly sagged against the bed, a myriad of pains wracking her. The fall must have hurt her somehow, and the injuries from the wolf weren't helping either. Shaking with effort, she drew her dagger, green eyes glittering and made for the door. It wasn't far, she encouraged herself. Just two handspans of steps. I can do this. One....two...three...

On the fourth step she stumbled, her foot tripping over a crack in the floor, and collapsed entirely, biting her lip to keep from crying out, the dagger skittering across the polished floor. Her sides ached with a fire she'd never felt before, she must have at least broken a rib or two, if not more in that fall - and her head ached with a fierceness only compounded by the cuts and scrapes the wolf had engraved into her flesh. Cursing softly under her breath, she attempted to draw herself to her feet once more, a strangled cry flying from her lips unfettered as pain wracked her body. I can do this, I can do this, come on, up and out and you're free-

It was then that a shadow fell over her, the soft clack of something striking the floor in front of her, and she cracked her eyes, gasping both in pain and at the sight of a hoof. Her eyes widened reflexively in fear as she stared up, one of them towering over her, the carcass of some unfortunate creature slung over its back like a child's plaything, blood casually spattered across its armor. Hissing in fear, she reached for her dagger, clawing frantically at the smooth floor, crying out involuntarily in pain at the movement and shuddering at the sound of the corpse hitting the floor as the beast took another step towards her, reaching out to strike its hoof, crying out in agony again and finally curling up upon herself, gritting her teeth and preparing for what she was sure to be the killing blow. No tears. Never tears, never show vulnerability, that was for the weak.

A cold hand brushed her hair from her face. A cold, gentle hand. She bit her lip harder, a small trickle of blood distracting her momentarily from the pain. It - no, not it, he, she realized - spoke, quietly, his tone oddly soothing, and slipped his arms under her, lifting her with no effort at all and placing her once more upon the bed she'd awoken on before. As he laid her there, hands placing her body comfortably with care, she stole a glance at his face.

They looked so much like the Eredar. They really did. But this...creature, whatever he was, he was not one of them. Of this she was certain. The color was wrong, and his eyes...he noticed her gaze and returned it, quietly and without judgement, his expression neutral and even. His eyes glowed with an inner light that was not unlike the fire that lit her own, and he didn't appear to mean her harm, for whatever reason. Another spasm of pain wracked her, and she gritted her teeth to forstall the groan that desperately wanted to escape her lips.

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She was hurt. He knew she would be, but he hadn't considered the extent of her injuries in his careful perusal of her form. When he came back from his hunt, she had been lying on the floor, helpless as a cub when he'd come in. He hadn't expected her to awaken so soon, nor had he expected her to try and move. Her feeble attempts at an attack would have been laughable to others, to him it was cause for concern - she obviously wasn't thinking clearly, and the dark stains on her clothing betrayed the seriousness of her injuries. He'd lifted her once more to the bed, noting with dismay her steadfast refusal to show any sign of pain. Strong, this one was, but decidedly alien to him, and he did not know if the healing energies he'd mastered would work on one not of his kind. But at the very least, he could try.

He closed his eyes, concentrating on the energies that lived within him and calling upon the Light to guide him, his hands hovering gently over her abused belly, and willed them to work, carefully knitting her tortured form back together. His hands glowed with an ethereal light as he worked, warming to the task, trying to work around the unfamiliar creature as best he could. Bones, he could try to knit back together, flesh he would try to mend. At the very least he could lessen her pain to the extent that she could rest and heal on her own.

What he didn't expect and didn't know what to make of was her reaction - as the energies flowed from him to her, she gasped and he looked up at her with concern, afraid he was harming her somehow - but the expression on her face was not that of one in pain. Her eyes were closed, back arching in what, with his kind, could only be described as the exultant pleasure usually experienced by physical contact of a very different kind. She moaned then, her body writhing with a will of its own, uncontrollable as he did his best to heal her, her cries growing to a fever pitch, and when he was satisfied that he'd made some sort of progress on her ribs he stopped, glancing up at her again only to see her staring at him in shock.

The thin trickle of blood from her bruised lip was something simple he could also take care of, and so he reached for her head, his hand dwarfing it. She clenched her eyes tightly shut as he did so, apparently expecting him to harm her somehow. Muttering soothing reassurances, he cupped his other hand on the other side of her face, the healing energies flowing between them and closing the wound. She moaned again, a low, erotic sound that played like a song to his ears and stirred something primal in him, something that hadn't been heeded in a very, very long time, and he quashed it, concentrating on the work at hand.

When at last he finished, moving his hands away, she lay there limp and panting in exhaustion, her eyes flying open once more to stare at him, her eyes tired but her expression one of shock and...satiation. She couldn't seem to keep her eyes focused though, her gaze growing wearier by the second as the activities of the day seemed to sink in, and he shook his head, gently closing her eyes and stroking her soft hair as she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Shaking his head again, he moved to the carcass he'd let drop to the floor earlier to tend to it and the mess he'd made while the tiny creature slept.