Stavanger Bay Just call [m]e shameless

Unused.
She was struck by how he phrased it.

Sanja thought about how she had used him in her bid to escape. It hadn't felt wrong at the time; now, seeing how injured he had become over someone he did not know, fed the spark that she had been trying to tamper down.

He was strong. He had fought someone young and volatile and he was here, not left dying in the wilderness. His language was her own. A protector, her protector.

Reaching again to clean a wound, this time she lightly grazed his striated coat and dared to draw quite close. He smelled of dry blood and musk, which kindled a fire in her belly.

You could use me, Sanja offered carefully, unable to look at him now. Her face felt warm; all of her did, if she thought about it. But she didn't care for thoughts as she let the feelings burn.