Marken was honestly surprised that she didn't try to jerk herself out of his arms, but didn't question it. He liked the feeling of her form in his, some he attributed to hormones, though that wasn't too far from the true reason he guessed. It just felt nice to hold her, to be comforting for her. He saw Ellanors reaction to his words and hold, how she calmed down somewhat in his arms, and he pulled her tighter to him in response, to try his best to ease her tension.

When she looked at him, so vulnerable in his arms, he realized just how much this actually meant to her. It made him feel bad, considering what he was forcing her to go through. However, it was better, in Markens opinion, than a dungeon or something similar or worse, she would live. And not only would she live, she would live unharmed in his home, and after she left. That much, he did vow to stick to. "No, I don't hate you. I don't like your actions, but I don't hate [i]you[/i]." He emphasized the last word, to make sure that she knew that it was her actions, not herself, that had put her here. He still felt the attraction to her that he had felt three days ago, preferring to imagine that she was someone who'd shown an interest in him as more than a rich boy.

When she started to lean up to him, Marken took that as a sign that... She was ready. He gently moved a hand to cup the back of her head, leaned his own down, and pressed his lips to hers. His other arm curved around to pull her waist to his, keeping her secure in his grasp. The first thing he felt was how soft her lips were, how he could just taste the faint aftertaste of the sweet tea she had enjoyed minutes ago. He kept his lips pressed to hers, though didn't try anything further than that, his grip on her soft enough that she could easily pull away when she wanted to.