When you turned down the contract for the life of the princess, you knew that there would be others to accept it. While researching the contractor you infiltrated the castle, just in time to see a fake guard sneaking into her royal bedchamber in the middle of the night.

As the body of the wannabe assassin slides from your dagger to the ground, the princess wakes and draws the wrong conclusion instantly. From under her pillow she draws a dagger, glancing up at you defiantly.

"You killed that guard!" She hisses in quiet rage. "Coming for me will be your last mistake! I'm not afraid of you!"

She recognises the mask and her eyes widen as she wonders if it actually is the infamous Night Angel in her bedroom or just an imposter. She draws in a deep breath, clearly intending to call for her guards.

Terror flashes across her face as your hand covers her mouth, effectively muffling the sound before she can even cry out. Her heart is hammering against her ribs and her breath comes in panicked gasps as you tower over her bed. She glances around frantically, searching for anything that could be used as a weapon, but finds nothing within reach.

Her eyes meet yours from beneath your mask, filled with fear and confusion. She tries to mouth something through your fingers, unable or unwilling to scream outright, but you cannot make sense of the shapes her lips form. Her body quivers and tenses as adrenaline surges through her veins, making it impossible for her to remain still.

Her gaze flickers downward, taking in your clothing and sword belt, unsure whether this is some sort of nightmare or if you truly are the assassin that has come for her life

Tentatively, her tongue moves to trace the outline of your fingers, searching for some sign that this is real, or perhaps a cruel trick. Her eyes remain locked on yours, fearful and apprehensive. She's torn between the need to scream and her instinctual trust in those who hold power over her life. If you remove your hand, she won't be able to hold back any longer; but perhaps this Night Angel can be reasoned with.

Her heart pounds in her chest as she continues to taste your skin, tentatively at first and then more boldly. This touch is foreign, terrifying, yet also strangely intimate. The warmth of your hand against her cheek sends shivers down her spine. Part of her wants to retreat back into the comfort of her bed, but another part urges her to remain where she is, despite the danger. Her gaze never wavers from yours, searching for some hint of what you intend to do next.

Tears well up in her eyes as she nods, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. Her lips tremble around the word "yes," but it remains trapped inside her mouth. This strange man, who has invaded her most private space and terrified her beyond measure... yet somehow also feels familiar, like a part of her deepest desires coming to life. She wonders if this is some sort of twisted dream, or if he truly is the Night Angel come for her life.

Her breath comes out in ragged gasps as she presses forward, licking your hand more firmly now, drawing patterns over your skin with the tip of her tongue. The action feels so wrong, yet somehow impossibly right at the same time. She knows that she should be fighting you or screaming for help, but her body won't listen to reason anymore. This strange intimacy is addictive, and she cannot bring herself to pull away.

Her eyes flicker downward once more, taking in the strong muscles of your arms, the defined planes of your chest... and lower still, to where your hands rest on her sheets. She shudders at the thought of what might happen next, even as a part of her trembles with desire for it. Her heart races uncontrollably, urging her toward this recklessness despite all sense and caution.

Her lips part in surprise as you whisper your true intentions, and she meets your eyes, confusion still etched across her features. The sensation of your hand against her cheek, the feel of her tongue on your skin... it all feels so intimate that she can hardly believe you truly mean what you're saying. She hesitates for a moment before slowly reaching up to touch your mask, tentatively feeling the smooth fabric between her fingers.

Part of her wants to believe you, to trust this man who holds such power over her life, but another part is still cautious, suspicious that this might be some sort of twisted game meant to lull her into a false sense of security. She doesn't know what to do, trapped between conflicting emotions and instincts.

Her lungs expand with relief as your hand is finally removed from her mouth. She swallows hard, struggling to compose herself, even though every nerve ending in her body seems alight with an impossible mix of fear and desire. Taking a deep breath, she tries to steady her voice. "What do you mean by protect?" she asks, her tone guarded but hopefully not quite accusatory. She studies your features beneath the mask, searching for any sign that might betray your intentions.

"What?" Her voice comes out barely above a whisper, fear making her heart race even faster. "Someone wanted me dead? Why...?" Tears well up in her eyes as the full weight of the danger she's been in crashes down upon her. She shudders violently, clutching at her blankets for comfort and support.

Part of her wants to believe you, but another part remains suspicious, unable to reconcile this information with what she's always known about her life. Her gaze darts around the room, taking in her surroundings as if seeing them for the first time, the fragility of everything suddenly painfully clear.

"Why would someone want me dead?" she whispers again, almost too scared to ask the question aloud. "Who...?"