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Leliana tapped one elegant finger on the map on the war room table. "In short, Inquisitor, Carroll will be at the Lion Pavilion for this meeting, but he will not be there long. We must make haste."
Evelyn sighed in relief. "Excellent work. And he doesn't suspect a trap?"
"None of my agents have seen anything to suggest he does."
"Then we go immediately. Send runners to Blackwall and Bull. I'll let Solas know myself."
Cullen set a gloved hand on the map, splaying it over Emerald Graves, blocking it from view. "I'll ready a cadre of soldiers to accompany you."
Josephine's murmured "Not again" was low enough to be ignored, so Evelyn did. She lifted her eyes to Cullen instead. "Cullen," she began in warning.
"You're not going alone."
"No, I'm not. I'm going with an experienced Grey Warden, a Qunari mercenary captain, and one of the best mages in the entire Inquisition."
"And a hand-picked squad of my best soldiers."
Evelyn locked eyes with the commander of her armies.
He leaned slightly toward her, bracing more of his weight on the table, meeting her glare for glare.
Quietly, without looking away, Evelyn said, "Would you two please excuse us?"
The other two counselors slipped out and Evelyn waited only long enough for the door to shut. "This is absurd, Cullen. Every single time, you—"
"Not every time, only when you insist on walking into dangerous situations with—"
"Every situation is dangerous! The entire world is burning down around our ears!"
"All the more reason to take more men with you! You've built an army, you should bloody well use it!"
"I will use it when and where I please! Where I do, Commander Cullen, not where you do!"
"Evelyn—"
She lifted a finger, almost jamming it in his eye. "No, right now, that's Inquisitor to you."
With a sharp frown, he swatted her hand away.
Indignation flared. "How dare you—"
That same hand clamped on the back of her neck and he pulled her halfway across the table. She cried out, the sound instantly muffled as he yanked her into a kiss.
The tip of his tongue slid just inside of her mouth, forcing her lips to part for his, hungry and demanding. He leaned closer, his other hand knotting in the material of her soft chamois shirt at the base of her spine. With it, he pulled her fully onto the table, sending counters scattering and bouncing across the floor.
Evelyn braced her hands on the table, using it as purchase to pull away. Shocked, she stared at Cullen.
There was no question that there had been an attraction between them. Perhaps even something warmer, something more emotional than simple physical chemistry. But she hadn't wanted to pursue it. The war had to be her focus; she couldn't afford to get distracted by a romance, not with the world crashing down around her ears, sometimes literally. She had known he was interested, but he seemed as reluctant as she to push things.
But the expression on his face was anything but reserved or reluctant.
"Take. The damned. Soldiers," he growled.
She blinked and found her anger renewed. "You think you can kiss me into obedience? I have no intention of—"
The rest of her sentence vanished into his mouth. Evelyn drew her knees under her and crawled fully onto the table, then knelt, rising to his challenge. She lifted her hands and set them on his shoulder, burying her fingers in the thick fur collar.
He swept an arm around her waist, metal armor digging into her skin as he tugged her closer still, pulling her halfway off his side of the table.
Her teeth sank hard into his lower lip.
His hand knotted in her hair and yanked her backwards, pinning her against the table, pulling her away from his lips. Frowning at her, Cullen lifted the back of his hand to his mouth and wiped it, then looked at the thin smear of blood on the leather glove. "Bitch," he said. But the light in his eyes, the half-lift of one corner of his mouth said something else entirely.
Evelyn tried to free her head, hissing in pain when he refused to loosen his grip. He lifted his hand when she stopped struggling, pulling her upright, bringing her hard against him again. His free hand stroked the swell of one of her breasts through her shirt, fingertips finding the raised nipple and teasing over it, pinching it lightly.
Evelyn's back arched into the touch, and she caressed his bitten lip with her mouth, tracing her tongue across it. As if accepting an apology, Cullen bent further over her, encouraging her to arch her back more. His hand was trapped between them but not so firmly that he couldn't tear open her shirt, work his gloved hand inside to find her skin underneath.
She shivered as her hot skin touched the cold metal of his chestplate and gasped against his mouth. Now he released her hair, deepening his kiss, his tongue stroking along hers. Using both hands, he pulled her shirt open entirely, bending the metal hooks apart though the seams held. The well-worn leather of his gloves was soft and warm, cupping her breasts, thumbs stroking her bare nipples.
Nothing of his body was available to her. Her hands slid across his armored biceps, up again to the furred collar, then higher into his hair, raking through the partially tamed curls. She knotted her fingers in his hair, pulled his head back so she could nip at his jaw, taste the bristles against her tongue.
Cullen shoved a knee between her legs, forcing her thighs apart, settling himself between them and grinding against her. Evelyn's hips shifted, riding him, quick up and down strokes that demanded a rhythm from him. The cambric of his dark pants slid over and against the supple nap of her leather trousers, a soft whisper almost lost in the groan he muffled, his head tilted back.
Evelyn took full advantage of the access he gave her, dragging her lips down the line of his throat, feeling his rapid pulse under her lips. Unable to resist, she nipped at his skin.
"Dammit, girl, stop biting me," he growled, lowering his head to her ear.
"Make me," she said with a breathless laugh.
His chuckle was low, barely heard, but the threat in it was all too audible. "As you wish," he said.
She knew he was strong. He wore plate, he fought with sword and shield, he trained constantly. But that didn't prepare her for the way he turned that muscle, that strength, against her. He dropped his hands to her waist, pushing her shirt off her shoulders as he did. Effortlessly, he lifted her off the table entirely. She snatched in a breath, a gasp of surprise that ended when he flipped her over and planted her firmly back on the table, face down.
One of his hands fell to the back of her neck and held her down, his other hand tugging at the collar of her shirt. It slid lower, yanking her arms backward, tangling her. Before she could struggle free of it, he wrapped it once around his hand, twisting it, tightening it. He lifted her arms higher still, leaned against her hips. Without leverage, Evelyn couldn't move even when he released her neck.
He rocked his hips against her upthrust bottom. "This has possibilities," he said, stroking his free hand down the curve of her ass, then gave it one slap, ignoring her outraged yelp. "Pity your clothes are in the way. Ah well. Next time."
He let go of her shirt to clench his fingers in the waistband of her pants, his gloved fingertips scratching over the skin of her hips.
Evelyn struggled free of her shirt and braced her hands on the table, turning herself back over, taking her weight off the table long enough for him to pull her pants down past her knees. She reached for him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You'll pay for that," she whispered, tangling her hand back in his hair and pulling his head to hers, punishing him with another kiss, another nip of her teeth.
With a muffled grunt, Cullen lifted her from the table. His booted foot came down hard on the cuff of one of her pants legs, scraping along her leg to do it. She yelped and bit him again in retaliation, grabbing his upper lip right at the scar and holding it between her teeth.
He pivoted, swung her around, her pants tangling briefly across her boot but pulled free of that leg with the motion. Cullen took one long stride and slammed her against the wall. The impact knocked her breath out of her, made her release his mouth. Before she could reclaim it, he buried his mouth against her neck, kissing and nuzzling, the bristles of his scruff scratching her skin.
Evelyn twined her legs around his hips, holding herself up with her hands in his furred collar. He shoved her harder against the wall, keeping her steady while he let go of her to free his cock from his pants. Her head fell back against the rough stonework, eyes closing, mouth open as she dragged in a long, harsh breath.
Cullen growled against her throat and guided himself into her. One hard thrust, two, each drawing another sharp cry from her. Her hips moved against him, finding a match for his rhythm, burying his cock deeply inside her. Her bare back slid against the rocks but she didn't protest, just pressed her shoulders harder against the rock, pushing her hips away, forcing him to hold her hips and shift his weight to ride her deeper.
The change tore him away from her neck. Her eyes flew open, found his gaze, held it. His eyes blazed in the torchlight, his teeth gritted, bared just slightly. Each thrust hit her hard and she found she couldn't, just couldn't keep meeting his eyes. Her lashes fluttered, fell closed.
His right hand let go of her hip long enough to grab her chin and shake her head. "Look at me. Open your eyes and look at me," he ordered.
With a soft cry, Evelyn obeyed and opened her eyes. He moved his grip, sliding his arms under her knees one at a time, lifting her hips higher, tilting them just a little more. He flatted his hands on the wall and drove harder, faster. The slap of flesh on flesh echoed in the stone room, punctuated by his grunts, her little cries of pleasure.
Evelyn's orgasm broke first, making her body tighten, clench, and she fought not to arch away from him, to keep him slamming into her over and over. She bit back a scream, muffling it. She shuddered, gasped his name, a sound that faded to a whimper. "Cullen," she said again, breathless, soft, melting around him.
With one hard thrust, he came in her, strangling his own outcry, mangling it to a long, low groan. Slowly, he pulled back and thrust deep one more time, drawing another sigh from her. Sweat beaded across his forehead and slipped down his temple. He shuddered and leaned into her, pushing her knees higher as he spent himself in her.
Evelyn brushed her hands through his hair, soothing down the disarrayed strands.
Gradually, he caught his breath. Muscles shaking, he moved his arms and let her feet drop to the floor. He kissed her, a long caress of his lips over hers, gentler now. When she was steady on her feet, he managed to open his eyes and look at her.
Neither spoke. Her heartbeat slowed its rapid pounding, returned to normal.
"Well," she said softly.
That drew another half-smile from him. "Yes."
She searched his expressions. "You know this doesn't change anything."
He kissed her again, just once. "This changes everything."
It made her smile too. "Maybe it does at that."
He chuckled, tucking himself back into his trousers as he looked around. He picked up her shirt and blinked. "Oh. Your back. I'm sor—"
"Worth it," she said with a shaky laugh. "I'll get a potion from my room."
"Before you leave, you mean."
"Yes," she said, shrugging into her shirt before trying to balance well enough to pull her pants up.
"With my soldiers."
Evelyn straightened and grinned at him, flipping her hair free from the collar of her shirt. "Nope."
He laughed. "Stubborn."
She leaned in to kiss him, teasing her fingers across the bite mark on his neck. "Maybe when I get back, you can punish me for it."
Cullen slid an arm around her waist and pulled her hard against him. But his voice and his lips were both gentle. "Count on it, Inquisitor."