Now pinned beneath him in her own temple, that memory felt like the rope of a noose tightening around her throat.
Her voice cracked, half-scream, half-plea. “That was different! Astarion, that kiss- I never gave you more than that! I never promised myself to you! I ran because I was afraid- confused!”
But if she thought her pleas would wound him, she was sorely mistaken.
Astarion’s expression didn’t falter; the cruel curve of his mouth remained as steady as his grip. He looked down at her as though she were speaking nonsense, as though her cries were the empty protests of prey that had already been caught.
“I remember everything,” he murmured, voice like velvet stretched over steel. “The way you froze when I kissed you. The taste of your lips, trembling against my own. The fair perfume of your skin- lemongrass and rosehips, wasn’t it? The way you looked at me in the dark, eyes wide and pupils blown, as though you feared me… and wanted me all the same.”
His hand slid along the curve underneath her jaw, fingers brushing the frantic pulse that fluttered beneath her skin. His crimson eyes darkened with hunger at the memory, his smile curving wickedly.
“You think I could forget that?” His voice dropped, more growl than whisper. “That single kiss has haunted me. You ran from me, but you couldn’t erase what passed between us. You were bound to me the moment your lips touched mine, the moment I tasted what could be. Don’t you see, Rhia? You gave me enough to hunger for- and that was all it took.”
His grip tightened, pinning her more firmly into the cold stone floors that lay below her goddess’s shrine.
“You were mine then. You are mine still. And that is how you always will be.”
Rhiannon’s chest heaved as she struggled against his iron-clad grip, fury and terror burning hot in her veins. “You can’t-”
“I can,” Astarion cut in, silencing her with his hand at her throat, using just enough pressure to force her to be still. His molten eyes gleamed like hot coals, steady, unyielding.
“You’ve left me no choice, my sweet little cleric. For years I scoured the city, the coasts, the roads- every shadow in Baldur’s Gate held a chance you might appear. And now, here you are, tucked away in this woodland shrine as though your precious Selûne could keep you from me.”
His lips curled wider, fangs bared, amusement and hunger mingling in a sinister brew as it spread across his face.
