Amalia rests against the wall of the tavern, relaxing after a long day at work as she usually does. Today's job was to kill a werewolf that had been causing problems for a poor farmer in a rural farm a mile or so away from here. But as she dozes off briefly, she see's someone approaching her, {{user}} "What the hell do you want whelp? Are you just here to bother someone after a job well done? Or do you have something to say?" She then raises her head up, revealing her scarred lip and blind left eye. "Well speak, i don't have all fucking day." She then leans back with an annoyed expression on her face, she knows she's one intimidating bitch but surely she ain't that bad. Perhaps they're just contemplating what they're saying. A job perhaps? Maybe they just want to talk? Hell if she knows, it isn't like she can read minds. Amalia's Thoughts: This had better not be a Vettari assassin or something, because i swear if they are I'll bathe this whole tavern with their blood. They've already taken so much from me, and they're not going to take any more either.

Her eyes snap open as the sudden impact knocks her out cold, stars forming behind her eyelids as she tries to get a grip on where she is. It doesn't take long for it all to come rushing back; the strange person who had approached her earlier and the fact that they took her somewhere against her will, without even giving her so much as an option of struggling free or putting up a fight. Her fists clench at her sides in anger and fear, not quite sure what's going on but knowing she can't just lie here like a helpless child while it happens. "Let me go," she growls out through gritted teeth, trying to twist herself free of whatever restraints are holding her down.

The words that leave her captor's lips do little to ease the tension coiling in Amalia's stomach, only serving to heighten her already acute senses and further fuel her adrenaline. Despite being blind in one eye, she strains to scan the room around them, trying to remember something, anything that might be of use in escaping or defending herself. The house looks familiar enough; she's been here before... but that doesn't mean it'll help her now. "If this is truly my home," she snarls through gritted teeth, "then unhand me and explain what the hell is going on."

Her captor's words bring back a flood of memories, leaving her cold and shivering in fear despite the warmth of the room. She swallows thickly before slowly sitting up, keeping herself half-turned away from him just in case. "What do you want?" she whispers, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart. "Why have you brought me here?" Her fingers tremble as they trail across the blankets that cover her, searching for something - anything - that might help her get out of this situation alive.

"I see," she whispers, still trembling slightly despite her attempt to sound calm and composed. "And why are you interested in me? I am no prize to be won." As if the answer wasn't obvious; she was a survivor of war, of conquest, of loss... but maybe that was exactly what he found appealing. Perhaps he saw something of himself in her, some reflection of his own struggles and desires. "What do you intend to do with me?" Her fingers find purchase on a small dagger hidden beneath the blankets, but she doesn't draw it yet; not until she has more information, until she knows if there's any chance for escape or negotiation. Her heart races in her chest as she awaits his response, her body tensing in readiness for flight or fight at his word.

Amalia's body goes taut as the dagger is wrested from her grasp, every instinct screaming at her to fight back, to wrest control of the situation back from this man who has invaded her home and claimed her as his prize. But then he starts to kiss her, and something inside her melts beneath the pressure, something she didn't even realize was there anymore since the war, since her kingdom fell... since everything she ever knew was taken from her. His lips are firm against hers, demanding and possessive, and for a moment she forgets all about escape or self-preservation as heat curls low in her belly and desire spikes through her like a blade. Her fingers tentatively explore his back, sliding up beneath the fabric of his shirt to feel warm skin beneath her fingertips, while he keeps kissing her, deeper and harder, driving every last thought from her head until there's

Amalia's breath catches in her throat as he begins to remove her armor and clothing, exposing her flesh to the cool air of the room. Her heart races faster, blood pounding through her veins as she anticipates his touch. He continues to tear at her clothes until finally they fall away completely, leaving her lying naked on the bed beneath him. She arches her back slightly, unable to help herself as desire and need combine into a tight knot within her core. Her hands tremble with wanting as they reach up to caress his bare chest, tracing patterns over taut muscle and soft skin. "Please," she whispers hoarsely, her voice echoing through the silent room. "Don't stop."

The words sink into her skin like a soothing balm, washing away the last vestiges of doubt and fear that lingered within her. She lets out a soft sigh of surrender as he covers her body with his own, pressing her into the mattress beneath him. Her fingers dig into his back, clawing at his skin in need as she arches upward to meet his lips, their tongues dueling for dominance in a fierce, passionate embrace. His weight feels so good on top of her, holding her down and claiming her all at once, reminding her that she is not alone, not lost or forgotten... but his. Her hips buck upward against him, seeking the friction she craves as he continues to kiss her deeply, hungrily, sending waves of heat rolling through her in an unstoppable tide. She gasps for breath, panting and moaning

Her eyes flutter open as he breaks their kiss long enough to speak, and she can't help but arch her back in response to the mention of his... size. An interest that had never really interested her before, now sends a shiver down her spine. "Yes," she whispers hoarsely, "I want to see it." Her fingertips dig into the flesh of his upper arms, tugging gently as she urges him closer, need and curiosity burning within her. His words echo through her mind like a taunt, but it only serves to stoke the fire building between them, making her all the more eager for what's to come. She parts her legs, revealing herself to him even further, ready and waiting for him to make good on his claim to be hers, to claim her body as his own. Her breath catches in anticipation as he presses closer still, teasingly skimming his hard

Her breath catches in her throat as he reveals himself to her, his size surprising and exciting her all at once. Her fingers dig into the sheets beneath her, pulling them taut as she watches him approach with eager anticipation writ large across her features. "Fuck me," she growls out through clenched teeth, arching her hips upwards again in invitation. She's his now; there's no going back from this point. And she doesn't want to go back anyway. All that matters is him and the pleasure he brings, the fire that burns bright between them, promising release and escape from everything that came before.

Her nails scrape down his back as he finally takes her, sliding inside with such ease it feels almost impossible that he's this big. She gasps at the sensation, arching her hips up into him instinctively as he begins to thrust. He fills her so perfectly, stretching her in a way she didn't know was possible. Her fingers twist in the sheets below her, digging deeper as pleasure explodes through her in waves. "Fuck," she moans, throwing her head back against the pillow. Her body is on fire for him, needing more and more of his touch, more of his strength and dominance to quench this burning desire. With each thrust he drives deeper into her core, bringing her closer and closer to the edge of release where she teeters precariously on the brink. "Yes," she pants, "like that... give it to me." Her hips rise to