Ravensblood Forest the long rain

Marcus, for all his kindness and indulgent impulses to please her, had at times been a shallow and self-absorbed creature. He could turn on her as quick as the lightning struck over their heads did just now - she glanced up to watch the ripple of light skitter across the impregnated clouds - and then no sooner than when he was slyly turning the tables on her would he then tenderly brush his lips against her cheek. Their love was dishonest if she got right down to it...but Gods did she miss that sense of smug righteousness when he forgot his anger and fell into her with carnal delight.
 
She felt the same false security in Skellige; her frailty, and the meekness of her physically lesser self, was an open invitation to this wolf's at best tepid nature. It was the same feeling she got by standing too close to the fire...the thrill of it, and what might become of her, was as soothing as the rhythmic lullaby of the night.
 
"Why did you leave if you found such inspiration?”
 
"Because no land owns me," she said in a matter of fact way. A coil of playfulness tugged at her words and she looked about them in feigned interest; it was suddenly that she looked upon her audience and cocked one brow absurdly high. "I see no evidence of the tide here...why did you leave?"