[ the truth is that she doesn't hate him, not even a little, as much as she might want to. even when she'd first met him, when her upbringing dictated that Vikings were savages and were worth more on a pike than alive, she'd found it difficult to hate a man with a smile like that and the strength to lead a flight of dragons.
when she kisses him she kisses like she's trying to climb into his skin, and her hands go from his shirt, both fisting into the tousled dark of his hair hard enough to sting his scalp. her breath leaves her in a puff, an second exhaled I hate you marking his mouth where her teeth had just been before she pushes up against him with all the demand she'd approached everything in her life. she tugs his head at an angle, pushes her tongue into his mouth, and the kiss is as much a battle as their swords had been moments before. ]
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when she kisses him she kisses like she's trying to climb into his skin, and her hands go from his shirt, both fisting into the tousled dark of his hair hard enough to sting his scalp. her breath leaves her in a puff, an second exhaled I hate you marking his mouth where her teeth had just been before she pushes up against him with all the demand she'd approached everything in her life. she tugs his head at an angle, pushes her tongue into his mouth, and the kiss is as much a battle as their swords had been moments before. ]