Quoted By:
"You sure they just charm men, Mona?" Concern fills your darling's voice, your name upon his lips like the chime of a silver bell. Ah, how sweet those words sound coming from Bran. His misplaced worry for your safety makes your heart skip a beat, and oh how much you would love to shelter in the safety of his arms and never, ever leave. But you know well the Undine's magic, the ripples they make in the worldly waters that distort the mental image and make them more appealing to their prey. "You're looking pretty well charmed to me."
"Nonsense, Braaaaaaaaaaan~" You roll his name around in your mouth and savor its sweet taste. Here beneath the waves, alone but for a far-off troupe of merrows that pose about as much threat to you as a pack of harmless goblins, it tastes like honey-sweetened lemon tea with just a hint of ginger. Your voice takes up a chiding tone as you remind him that, "Succubi, Sirens, and Undine weave their charms upon <span class="mu-i">men</span>. Incubi, Satyrs, and <span class="mu-i">Orcs</span> are the common monsters that charm <span class="mu-i">women</span>."
It dawns on you just how close you've gotten to Bran just now.
You pulled him to the floor to break his line of sight to the Undine, and the both of you fell back to the Stone Gate. Somewhere along the line, you crawled atop of him and straddled his pelvis. His breath warms your face, and your golden, sunlit eyes almost drown within the icy depths of his cold blue eyes. While your own face is colored with an almost drunk and happy flush, his face remains cold and colorless as he tells you that, "I'm quite certain Orcs only charm women in those novels that you hide behind your textbooks."
"You know about those...?" your voice is small and squeaky as the color drains from your face. Like most women, you hide your love of such smut behind a veil of anonymity, and to have that laid bare is like being stripped naked in the public square. Still, seeing his face filled with amusement rather than judgement, you have to admit that, "It's okay if you know. But <span class="mu-i">lots</span> of women like those books, so don't you get any weird ideas about what I like..."
You shudder in delight when you feel his strong, powerful hands grip your shoulders ever-so-gently. Concern has returned to the icy depths of his blue eyes as he asks, "Are you <span class="mu-i">sure</span> that you're not charmed? You're being way too..."
"Way too <span class="mu-i">what</span>?" you demand to know.
When Bran refuses to answer, you let out an unsatisfied sound and wriggle out of his grasp. Pulling away and sitting up fully astride him, you stare down at his nonplussed expression in tremendous dissatisfaction. That dissatisfaction melts into a catlike grin when you feel a certain <span class="mu-i">something</span> wriggling to life and pressing up against you. Oh dear, but for the fabric of his pants and your drawers, your chastity might be in danger. Your darling has the grace to blush when you point out that, "Oho~! <span class="mu-i">Someone's</span> certainly been charmed~"
