Another Day

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15 Haring, 9:41

Cullen looped his arms over his drawn-up knees, watching the sun come up over the treetops. In some ways, he felt thirteen again, and half-expected Jared to come out of the tent behind him and knock him over with an affectionate cuff to the back of his head.

Instead, when the tent flap opened, the person who emerged looked nothing like Jared at all. Cullen looked at her over his shoulder, feeling a bit shy this morning. The previous night's interrupted embrace hadn't been in his plans at all—when preparing for this journey, he had thought more about showing her this place, taking her away from Skyhold and all the weight of the world that lay constantly on her shoulders, of simply spending with her the kind of time they otherwise had no opportunity for.

Despite his increasing desire for her, and the temptations associated with traveling alone, and spending so much time together, Cullen hadn't intended to push the physical portion of their relationship on this trip. Partly because the more time he spent with her, the more time he wanted. It was harder and harder to imagine a future in which she wasn't there, laughing with him and kissing him and looking at him with that exquisite softness in her brown eyes. He was no longer certain he could be satisfied with less than a lifetime. But he didn't know if that was what she wanted ... and there was still the impossible to forget potential that it wouldn't be an option. Corypheus still waited out there, for her, a circumstance Cullen tried not to think about.

And so he tried to keep control of his desires. Cullen was no virgin, but none of his previous encounters had involved more than the physical. Some part of him knew that if he were to make love to Antonia, it would be the end of any chance he had to protect himself against the possibility that she didn't feel for him what he felt for her, or the fact that neither of their feelings mattered in the face of the dangers that awaited her.

But that wasn't the only reason for his hesitation. The wolf's howl last night, so like the shriek of a despair demon, had catapulted him instantly from this peaceful shoreline to the stone-walled environs of the Circle tower. With his guard down the way it had been, his focus entirely on her, he had not been able to steel himself against the panic.

Reluctantly, he had to confess to himself that, despite the nearly bone-deep ache of his desire for her, he wasn't ready. Now at some point he'd have to work up the nerve to confess that to her, which would be harder still. And would be complicated by how much her nearness threatened his control; while he had a lifetime's worth of practice in keeping control of himself, her effect on him, physically and emotionally, was like nothing he had ever experienced before.

As she came toward him, he waited, his breath held, for her to remark on what had happened last night. Instead, she sat down next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Good morning."

"Good morning." He moved his arm around her shoulders so that she was tucked against his side.

"Someone didn't wake me for a turn on watch last night. A bad habit you share with the Iron Bull. And Blackwall."

"You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn't want to disturb you." He didn't tell her that he had spent a long time just watching her sleep, her face so beautiful in repose.

"Hm." There was disapproval and resignation in the sound, but she didn't bother to argue. "What's on the agenda today?"

"Well ... we could head back, if you wanted; we'd be back in Skyhold tomorrow afternoon."

"Do we have to?"

"No, not if you don't want to. We can stay another day." He was surprised; after last night, he'd thought she'd be disappointed and ready to return. "Do you want to?"

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