Blackvayne had said things like that before, words of flattery, but they sounded so utterly different coming from Geraint's mouth.  Sincere and authentic, there was no secret motive behind them.  She looks up at his body, hands reaching out to trace some of the scars on his abdomen.  Most werewolves lived rough, tattered lives, but his seemed harsher than most.  She wanted to both curse the witches and almost to thank them.  If he had not be exiled from them, at least on paper, they likely never would have met.<br/><br/>The tips of her fingers traced up and down, flirting with the skin of his thighs, but her hand did not return to his cock.  It was a bit of a tease, though she probably did not have to tempt him anymore now that she was laid out before him.<br/><br/>"I'm no goddess."  She whispered, shaking her head.  This act that was about to happen pulled at the strings of her heart.  It had been a life of loss and pain, but it seemed there were still some moments of pleasure and connection in this darkened world.  When she could not contain herself any longer, she leaned up and wrapped her arms around Geraint's neck, pulling him down to her, kissing him again.  Drinking from his lips was much more pleasant than anyone she had ever kissed before.<br/><br/>She could tell he had secrets and that not all had been revealed, but she did not care.  Something about him drew her in, and it was more than just the fact that he had saved her life, as temporary as that action may have been.