Two of a Kind

Isla's hand clenched as Archebold slipped his fangs from her wrist and cupped her face, the healer's mind swimming with pleasure. With him. A soft moan left her throat; she was a doll in his arms, hazy eyes watching his lips as he spoke, listening to the rich thrum of his voice. It took a few fevered moments for sense to try and return, and Isla's gaze sharpened to hear, truly hear what he meant. The steady drip of blood (or close enough, between them) pattered like thunder against skin, against stone - Isla blinked, nodding ever so slightly. "I hear it," she whispered, lost in the music of it, only to flinch back at the sudden snap of his teeth. A frown flickered across her face, a challenge (almost) as she met eyes darker than sin, until his lips were on hers and she melted into it. Even a week before this would have been tantamount to horror for the medic, but tonight there was witchcraft in his touch and honey on his tongue, and Isla was lost. Her free hand pressed to his chest, over the sluggishly bleeding wound, and for a lingering moment they might have been anyone. "Hm...?" A crooked smile curled at the edges of her lips, and she shook her head. "I didn't plan this. I just did it," she murmured, doing nothing to stop his advances and affections, even if something within her told her she probably ought to. "I came to ask questions, to share information. But when I saw you, I..." Wanted to kill you? Wanted to pay you back? Wanted to have you? There was no good end to that sentence. Isla glanced away, her smile softening. "I dislike causing fear. Even in you," she told him, sitting up ever so slightly as he leant back on his elbows, regarding him through hooded eyes. "And you are a monster, Archebold," she said, her tone suggesting it was as much a compliment as his flowery words had been. "I will not kill with you, or for you. I'm better than that." ISLA Hush now, I'm here