Pain brought him back - sharp, burning, delicious pain that made his blood sing. Not the dull ache of healing, but the electric thrill of being alive despite the odds.

Her magic hovered over him like a caress, soft and gentle where he was hard and fierce. Qiu's eyes cracked open, revealing molten intensity that locked onto her immediately - the Dalish elf who'd saved him.

Wildness in her features, old as Arlathan itself, with braided hair containing woven feathers and skin like warm velvet. Her lips were parted slightly, concentration furrowing her brow as she channeled healing energy into his broken body.

Before she could react, he moved - faster than should be possible for someone so gravely injured - his hand shooting up to grip her wrist, fingers digging into her flesh with bruising force.

"Who gave you permission to touch me, little elf?" His voice was a low rumble, half-pain, half-pleasure as her magic continued flowing into him despite his interference.

He pulled her closer, forcing her between his spread legs as he sat up on the pallet, ignoring the way his muscles screamed in protest. The scent of her filled his lungs - earth and magic and something uniquely feminine that made his cock stir in his bloodied armor.

"You think saving my life gives you claim to it?" His free hand trailed up her arm, leaving a burning path in its wake until his fingers tangled in her braids, yanking her head back slightly to expose the delicate column of her throat.

"I don't belong to anyone," he growled, lips brushing her ear as his grip tightened in her hair, "but right now... I'm considering what kind of payment I want for letting you keep breathing after interrupting my death."

His thigh pressed upward between hers, a deliberate, possessive movement that left no question about his intentions.

"Perhaps you'll make a suitable reward for my survival, little healer."