She allowed him to draw her back onto the bed, smiling gamefully when he kissed her. If she were in a better condition, she might tease him until he gave in to her demands and went for another round... but Lhurriel could already feel her muscles weakly protesting whenever she tried to move, and everything underneath her waist ached and sent twitching pains through her hips whenever she so much as stretched.<br/><br/>"I don't like being a sweet little girl, Amron. It's not my style," she murmured, slumping comfortably on her stomach at his side, and using his arm as a pillow. It would be so easy to slip into sleep, even though a part of her warned her that she was playing too deeply with an opponent she couldn't hope to match. It had been that way with Amery, who had subtly outmaneuvered her turn by turn, not giving her a chance to refuse him by simply keeping her in his bed and keeping her attention focused on him. That had ended in love - a tragic love, now. It couldn't happen again. It just didn't do to be in a position where she held less power than her partner, simply because her emotions were more tightly bound.<br/><br/>"And I don't need rest. I'm still game," she said when he kissed her again. This time, her eyes didn't open at all; within moments, she was fast asleep in his arms. With her long, dark lashes stark against her upper cheeks and wavy hair tumbled around her face, she looked much younger, and much more innocent than their recent activities would have let on. Without a game smile or a seductive curl to her lips, she looked more vulnerable - certainly, less practiced in games of the flesh. But her well-pleased body bespoke otherwise - her wet thighs, the curve of her firm bottom, the scent of arousal that clung to her skin, and even the gently rounded pertness of her breasts. And, of course, the fresh brand - one none the wiser might think it a brand of possession.<br/><br/>But in all, a young woman of contradictions who, despite her outer playfulness and sensual demands with Amron, yet dreamed of a lover who had been stolen into Death's arms.