A Ballad of the Sun and the Moon

Chapter 3

Just a little further, she thought, approaching a junction.

To the left would lead to the servants quarters with an exit near the South leading out into a sprawling garden. She'd have to go around the entire house to reach the woods delaying her escape, but she'd likely avoid anyone who might question her.

If she went straight, only a short walk through the main hall would await her, allowing a faster escape. The danger though would be risk of confrontation with the face she was wearing.

This 'Quinten' did not seem like someone she wished to scuffle with. He and the family he came with had some odd quality about them. Their presence scraped her senses, a crackling panache encompassing everything and nothing at once. Certainly not human, of that she was certain, though she'd never felt anything like them. So potent. So powerful. She wondered what they could be. What was their name? Landfjord? It hadn't been on the attendee list a week ago. They must have been a last minute addition.

The maids were all a flutter about the two brothers and argued over who would clean their rooms. Usually skeptical, the thief found the gossip surprisingly understated when one of them ran into her in the hallway. Hair of deep pewter and eyes of unrelenting darkness, he was dreadfully comely, so much so that she could hardly tear her own eyes away. He was alluring in a way that human males simply weren't.

Initially thinking it luck, not one of the girls had volunteered to assist the nobleman's sister - who hadn't brought a lady's maid and would need help dressing. The thief couldn't understand why they all feared the sister. It was the perfect opportunity, so as one of the lowly kitchen maids wishing to work her way up the service hierarchy, the thief 'bravely' volunteered.

It wasn't until she met the young woman that she realized the comely brother wasn't a fluke. She too got under her skin beckoning the scales to come out.

Perhaps it hadn't been wise to steal from another Mythic, she finally thought. There was no point in regret now, it was too late for that. She reached into her pocket and linked the clutch of pearls through her fingers, cool and soothing to the touch. Caution won out over brevity. She chose the servants quarters and the route around the house.

Assuming she'd be safe until outdoors it came as a shock when she reached the last hallway. It was long and had no windows - a fact the thief had been aware of. But for once since she'd been there not a single candle or lantern lit the way.

Perhaps the main hall didn't seem such a bad route after all.

Most creatures were hidden in the dark, predators and prey alike using this to their advantage. The thief was different. She had a special magic in her used to conceal herself making her appear as one of Them. That is, plain and ordinary. Like with any magic a source was needed and hers happened to be light. Be it that of a flame or the moon or the powerful sun itself, she needed that light to create her mirages. In places where darkness reigned, she became a glowing beacon like a star in the sky on the night of a new moon. Her prowess was minimized and her senses dulled, rendering her vulnerable. Despite her efforts it was the only time she couldn't maintain a disguise no matter how simple.

She paused a moment inhaling deeply taking in the smells and sounds. It seemed no one was nearby. She took a step into the darkness.

The hallway seemed longer than it was, as anything does when unpleasant. She looked down at her arm emitting a feint glow. Brighter and brighter it grew the darker it got. The mirage of the Landfjord's footman - or whatever he was - had long since faded away.

She was sure the pounding of her heart rattled the walls around her. If a servant came around the corner, despite being far away, they would see her immediately. A woman shining fiercely in the dark was not something someone would oversee nor was it a sight easily chalked up to failing eyes or a bit of bad beef. She didn't want to turn a theft into a murder, but secrecy was paramount to beings like her. She kept her pace quick, sure she was near the end.

Her fingers shook as she wrapped them around a simple, iron door handle. Gripping it tightly, she gave it a turn using the singing metal to steady herself.

The sun's last breath spilled over her as she opened the door to the outside. She washed herself in the glow, regaining a facet of calm. She took the dull variation of her own terrible face – one she'd practiced and honed – so that maintaining it required little effort. She needed her senses sharp till she was well into the forest.

There was no time to linger. The guests most likely would have discovered the theft by now and would begin gathering the servants for questioning. They would find no one missing so the house would be searched from top to bottom. By then she would be as good as gone. No one would consider venturing into the forest to look for the thief. Even hounds would be too instinctually frightened to pursue her.

She scampered along the edge of the house like a mouse stealing cheese from a pantry, the stone facade of the manor steadying her trailing fingers. Upon reaching the Northwest corner she gave a quick glance before darting across the expanse of lawn, finding respite in a small coppice of willows preceding a pond stocked with bespeckled carp.

Usually the escape was a thrill, her body bursting with adrenaline as she fled. Tonight it was different. She felt as if the air itself was watching her, permeating through her stolen clothes into her bones. She was breathing heavily but rest would have to wait. As fast as her legs would carry her she fled into forest as the sun's final rays graced the earth.

The first stretch of woods were thin, full of brambles and painful to pick through. She cut her hand and cheek after tangling with a batch of briars and was relieved when she found a game trail easing her traversal. She lengthened her stride moving much faster than before.

As if perfectly planned, she reached older growth as the moon emerged. The place held a familiarity, despite her never having been here. Ancient yews and old beeches with thick trunks stood far apart as if each tree jealously guarded its territory.

This place holds power, she thought, as she passed between two isolated redwoods jutting out as extensions of the earth like pillars of warning standing stoically amidst the others. A semblance of something darker than the forest fluttered over her skin. She scratched where the valet's lapels tickled her neck, her breath deepening, her heart racing.

You're not alone, whispered the winged huntress within.

She slowed her step listening for the predator to betray a sound, but all she felt was a subtle, intangible quake mounting in her bones. The moon was high and bright and a sudden urge to Turn arose. It was likely she could frighten off the being with sharp teeth, terrible talons and a well placed growl, but then she'd be revealed for what she was. There was much more power in mystery than a show of brute force, so she held her form, because whatever was stalking her was right behind her now. She caught the scent of smoke and night and then the musky fragrance of man.

"How far did you think you'd get?" came a silvery voice.

It was that Lord from the party. The rather comely Landfjord. How could he have possibly found her out here? This time it wasn't a mere itch that she felt due to his vicinity; a sudden frisson pulled at her from behind sending a chilling burn through her blood. Her instincts were right, they were something much more than human. Powerful, deadly. But so was she.

She would show no fear even if she had any. It was a simple rule when dealing with predators. Fear meant weakness, weakness was a signal to attack, to take your prey by the throat and close your jaws around them. She wasn't weak. She wasn't prey. Like the creature standing at her flank, she too was a predator. And she knew she was the greatest of them all.

"I would caution against midnight strolls in the wood, my Lord. There are oh so many wild beasts about," she said as husky as she could manage.

She wanted him to know she was Aware, that she didn't need to see with her eyes.

"I'm the only wild beast you need be concerned with," he answered, a dangerous challenge in his undertone.

"Is that so?" she wheeled around, taking a menacing pose, hands turned out as if she had claws.

She sucked in a silent breath as she caught sight of him. The unclad, muscular body of male shimmering in the moonlight poised to strike. His hair was a midnight shade of smoldering black and his eyes completely covered in darkness. She couldn't help but flick her gaze downwards, only once, catching sight of his unhindered manhood. It took all she could to maintain her mirage, keeping her natural shine at bay. Luckily the moon was at its peak and she was standing directly in a beam, manipulating the light as she needed.

She had to disarm him somehow. A jest perhaps?

"What in heavens are you doing out in the forest late at night, stark naked under the full moon? Have you gone mad, my Lord?" she asked with a sneer.

The runner was a woman, something Kimber hardly concieved as possible. At her jab he became suddenly conscious of his nudity. The drákon weren't modest like humans being naturally primal creatures. Practically everyone in the tribe had seen his bare body, an asset he had often flaunted. Yet here was a dragon-woman mocking him for it. Try as he may to maintain his unfaltering control, he wavered.

"Same thing could be asked of you," he stuttered, "being out in the forest I mean."

She shot him a wicked grin. "Smooth. Smooth as a spirit's wing in flight. Perhaps you should return to your wine and company, to your own element." She released some of the tension in her shoulders, having regained an ounce of control. With a cocked head she studied him through long lashes as if issuing a challenge to demand what she had stolen. His demeanor had changed, she recognized, his original intention no longer there, whatever it may have been.

He didn't move, didn't take his eyes from hers. He looked straight back, searching her for anything familiar. The memory of a face or smell. He tried placing her amid the intricate shoots and branches of the tribe families. There was nothing recognizable about her. Her scent was foreign and her energy utterly unknown.

At first glance she was plain; messy hair, soiled skin and eyes that hardly glimmered. And yet, she radiated drákon, cleverly disguised behind some power he didn't understand; a fervency crackling barely kept at bay by a practiced exterior.

His stomach felt of butterflies alighting a blossoming tree. A dragon. Born unshackled. Wild and free. He felt as if he could smell the winds on her, her skin soaked in a thousand skies and her marrow steeped in the blood of the earth.

"Who are you?" Kimber asked, his voice filled with desparate wonder.

"Just a country jewel thief," she replied, dismissively, her smile still sly.

"I beg to differ."

"Beg all you want." Her mouth took on a mischievous slant. "I think the more pressing question is what are you?"

He cocked his head curiously. "Is it not obvious?"

She looked at him with eyes bright, as if burning through to his very fiber. "You're not the first thing I've seen go bump in the night, noble Lord" she stated dismissively. "Well, if you're not human..."

She tapped her lips in thought. He wasn't using magic like her, suggesting he looked as he appeared now. He'd found her using an altered form, a deduction gathered from his nudity. Wolf? Bear? He smelled like neither and their Turns were always so violent. Unlike her he was clearly a creature of the night, a being of shadow and phantoms. And he was suggesting they were the same species, a truly ridiculous notion. Her smile deepened into a puckish grin and she spun on her heel racing deeper into the wood.

A challenge then.

Kimber couldn't help but match her devilish smile. It wasn't the chase he had planned for, but it would no doubt be pleasurable. He'd let her get far, let her think she had won. He wanted to toy with her, goad her, push and prod her till she revealed that secret something she hid. If she wanted to see what he was then he would demand the same. It would be a game of cat and bigger cat.

The gracious breeze changed in his favor gifting him her scent. Something resembling peonies: sweet and spicy, rose and citrus. Feminine. Woman. He licked his lips and pursued her on his own two human feet.

She was lithe and quick and fleeting, skirting the trees and darting past old decaying stumps. An owl above instinctively flew off in a flutter, leaving a pother of down in its wake marking her flight. She was quiet, certainly, but to the senses of a dragon her graceful footfalls and thundering heart betrayed her.

Kimber trailed her easily, delighting in her sounds and scents, letting them wash over him. There was a certain appeal to it, a woman not readily giving into him. The young ladies of the shire had always gladly welcomed his intimate presence, fluttering their eyelashes at him inviting his caress over their naked bodies without pause.

He shook his head, wondering why his thoughts went there. Whether she knew it or not, she was a runner, a threat to the tribe. He was going to catch her, bind her and bring her home, as his was his duty. And that would be all.

The thief altered her path, changing directions more than once trying to throw him off course. Sometimes east, sometimes west, attempting to avoid being downwind. Clever, he thought. She certainly wasn't inexperienced. It made no difference though. Her scent - now a mixture of those summer flowers and feminine sweat - was just a gratuity. His ears twitched to the gentle slip of pearls against scratchy wool and the soft fall of a coat landing on a branch as the thief veered off her path again hoping he would fall for her trick.

He sped up, not following her directly, instead giving her a wide berth to maneuver around her. If she wanted to escape him she'd have to do much better than her human form.


No longer able to feel that faint shadow behind her, the thief began to slow. She continued a quick, but less demanding pace just to be sure.

A cluster of clouds had gathered around the moon casting menacing shadows onto the forest floor. She instinctively avoided the dark spots, meandering around them like a cat avoiding a puddle. She finally stopped as she came to a small spring gurgling up cold, clean water from the depths. She turned around cocking her ear for anything that would reveal the strange man. Her nose only caught the distinct bitterness of conifers and decaying stumps. She tried to recall that feeling that his family gave her, to reconstruct the sensation hitting her senses like a bee against a window caught indoors, summoning the recent memories of the strange man. All she felt was the cool humidity of sweating trees. Convinced she had lost him, a triumphant and smug grin stretched over her face.

And for a moment, Kimber saw, from the cover of a witch hazel bush, a hint of sadness. He couldn't imagine being alone. He'd always had that constant of his kind in his life, the strength of his parents and comfort of his brother and sisters. His tribe.

He remembered when he had first Turned. Ten years old, the youngest the tribe could even remember. It had been a bitter winter.

It began with a refusal to practice his sums and multiplication tables and ended with one of his father's lectures revolving around his role and future and his responsibility to their people. Kimber had yelled at him, telling him he hoped he would never have Gifts and ran out into the bitter cold. They were words he never meant, words he regretted saying even to this day.

In a cosmic joke of irony that was when he first Turned to smoke. It hurt terribly, the frigid air coming between every bit of the intangible essence he had become, threatening to tear him apart. His father found him like that. He comforted and coached, helping him to pull himself into form until he had substance. His scales emerged, teeth and talons gathering into sharp tips, wings spreading victoriously.

He took flight for the first time that night. It came so naturally. Just him and his father soaring through the moon-lit night. No guards, no footmen or council members. Just them.

He could not imagine his life any different. He felt a certain responsibility to the drákon standing in the small clearing before him lost and clueless as to his presence.

The very essence around her shifted and warped and that crackle passed through Kimber again at her sight, drawing him out, drawing him to her.

"Disappointed?" His voice was filled with bravado as he sauntered out, his arms triumphantly stretched.

She jerked quickly towards him, the blood draining from her face. "That hardly proves anything," she replied with forced poise.

He cocked his head. "Doesn't it?" Kimber hid a smirk in anticipation, watching her contemplate.

She reached slowly into her pocket pulling out his sister's necklace, the pearls like distant moons. She bunched it up in her hand. "Fine. You win," she stated in mock surrender. "If it truly is that dear to your sister," it made a chink as it landed at his feet, "then take it and leave me be." She retrieved the bracelet from her pocket as well, reuniting it with its pair on the ground.

"Only a little jaunt in the woods and you're ready to give in?"

She gave him a shrug, all the while her cautious eyes on him.

"I'm sorry, but it's not the necklace that I'm tasked with bringing home. If you try to leave now I'll simply have to fetch you."

It was a deliberate provocation, one he dearly hoped she would answer with smoke and scales.

She considered it too. She considered many things. How his eyes were fixed on her, how his muscled chest tightened and released with every breath, how his manhood hung there, sleek and taunting.

He took a tentative slow step closer. Then another. And another. His eyes focused, his pupils expanding.

Kimber felt the depths of pines needles poke against his foot, a reminder of the Earth beneath him, marked by every step closer he got to the thief. He lifted his foot once more, slowly, carefully.

She was breathing harder and harder. Her thoughts were spinning, her mind a tumultuous fuzz. He smelled delightful, his body tempting. A wave of power flooded over her, undeniably stemming from him. She stood there, frozen. Yes, whispered the shining dragon from that dark part of her heart. He is a part of you. Show him. Show him what you are.

No.

Instincts be damned.

She lashed out at him with her foot, meeting his chest with her heeled-boot, knocking him back. She heard the wind leave his lungs in a single, succinct gust.

Kimber grabbed his chest startled by the blow, now on the ground holding himself up on one knee and a closed fist. He'd only been hit once that hard before; his brother Rhys, long ago during one of their boyish tumbles. He looked up at her just to make sure. It was still just a woman, plain eyes fixed upon him and postured for retaliation.

"I am not going anywhere with you," she said, sternly.

Kimber couldn't help it, a singular laugh escaped his lungs as he rubbed his chest. It hurt, aye, but mostly, it thrilled him. He'd played Catch What You Can with women in the shire, a more flirtatious version from his childhood; a rehearsed chase through the trees and inevitable capture of his prey. There was always some eager young drákon maiden happy to succumb. But with her he was met with a fierce unyielding, the likes of which he had only dreamt of in a woman.

"I'm afraid that is not up to you," he snarled. Without warning he leaped forward from the ground and caught her left wrist in his right hand. He felt it as a shock, a sudden crack striking at their connection, with the sinewy strength of her pull and fettered magic coursing through him.

She hadn't time to jerk away, as swift as he was. She twisted her arm around trying to writhe from his grip, but he was far too strong. She kicked at him again, but he was ready. He jerked her to the side causing her foot to hit a tree.

Kimber had avoided the blow, but also regrettably sacrificed his hold on her.

"You're doing well," offered Kimber, in encouragement, genuinely impressed.

She was circling him, debating taking the offensive or defensive. "What the deuce do you want from me?" she demanded as she threw a nasty punch. When he blocked it she launched another.

It wasn't possible, she thought. She'd always bested even males of any species. What manner of beast was this man?

He had to give it to her; she was strong, quick and wildly determined. But Kimber had grown up living this spiel; rough-housing with his own kind, winning mock fights, and on occasion even being forced to kill. Not that he would consider such a thing with her. Females were far too valuable.

Besides all of that he had the natural edge. He was larger, stronger, and male. Not to mention the offspring of an Alpha. It hardly seemed a fair fight.

"Well, you see, our kind doesn't tolerate theft either." He had a hold of her arm after a barrage of strikes, relishing the contact.

"Pfft. Our kind," she scoffed. "If I had known what your family was I might not have stolen from you. It hardly seems worth the trouble now." His fingers hurt as they dug into her skin.

As he jerked her towards him she threw her knee into his stomach. He tensed his abdomen and pulled back avoiding the brunt of it, still maintaining the hold on her arm.

"Perhaps. But that's beside the point. Steal from us, steal from them, you're bound to get caught eventually and we can't risk exposure. Especially, not so close to our home."

She launched every free limb she had at him, quick and with no discernible pattern. Kimber wished he could boast of having left without a scratch, with having blocked her perfectly, but it would have been a lie. She fought tooth and nail, making an occasional painful impact.

"I would never get caught. Not by humans anyways."

"Never is a long time," he retorted.

"Then I'll leave. I'll go far away from your territory."

She made one last attempt to free herself, trying to twist under his arm for more leverage. The error cost her as he caught her other arm on the up spin and gripped it tightly.

"I'm sorry dear lady, it's too late for that now."

He had both her wrists firmly in his callused hands, her arms criss-crossed. She tried one last jerk, but he was ready for it using her recoil to pull her nearer. It must have hurt as she gave a suppressed whimper. His demeanor quickly changed from amusement to pity as he looked down upon her, tribeless and alone with fury in her eyes. He couldn't blame her for her anger: to meet the first of her kind only to be accused a criminal - which she technically was - and snatched from a freedom that was natural to her, that she had possibly known her whole life.

"Could you not feel what we were?" he asked her softly, sorrowfully, searching her eyes. "Have you never known another drákon?"

It cut her like a knife. She let the word spill out of her lips in a whisper.

Drákon.

Is that what she was? Dragon, Drache, Drage, Dragão. Every language seemed to have a word for her, yet none of their stories seemed to represent the truth.

She said it again, the word rolling over her tongue, soothing a fray she'd long since supressed. Her throat tightened as she tried to swallow. She looked up into his eyes, deep orbs of coal pulling in the light around them inviting her in. She felt the bubbling under her skin as her magic began to weaken, siphoned by this man moving closer, inch for inch blocking the moonlight. She could Turn, exploding up into the sky like a comet and escaping on leathered wings. It was a risk she couldn't take. If he too were dragon he would catch her without trouble, of that she had no doubt, extrapolating from his prowess in human form. If she truly had to go with this man, she needed to have her secrets as armor.

So she did the only thing she could think of...

...and kissed him.

It was an act of a practical nature, she told herself. She didn't want to kiss him. Or still be kissing him. He would have seen her and she couldn't allow that. Self preservation, that's all it was.

But his lips were soft and his breath like the first drops of rain in a droughted summer. And...

...he kissed her back.

She'd tasted the lips of men before. Each one as mundane as the next, even letting them touch her, hoping for a spark, her body craving something she didn't understand. She never let it exceed a fondle, feeling that fizzling-out as they ran their boring fingers across her skin, as thick and unappealing as oozing mud. She always ended it before it went further.

But this peculiar man was different. The touch of his lips, the firm grip on her wrists. Skin touching skin sending cool, cool, burns up and down her spine. A thick black strand of his hair dropped to her cheek, tickling, reminding her he was real.

Perhaps this stranger was like her. A winged beast of myth hiding behind a carefully practiced facade. They were the embodiment of power, barely contained in flesh, sinew and skin, hiding behind pretty eyes, and pretty words. She wondered what that vibration was when he was near, that energy that he emitted making her nerves stand on the edge of a precipice and threaten to jump. Scales and wings, fangs and talons, the awe and dread of heavens.

Kimber allowed her to tug her hands free and move them up into his hair. He hadn't expected the kiss. He didn't really know what he expected. He'd caught her. He had her detained, but what next? He'd never chased a female runner and she wasn't even really that. She was an outsider, not of the tribe. Regardless though, it was his duty to contain even the meekest of drákon to Darkfrith. He knew down to his marrow that she was one of them. She emanated that certain energy that all his kind did. When he first felt her he thought maybe she was simply thin of blood, her signal so weak and barely perceivable. But as the night came it was strong as if she wished to assert a birthright, switching from being a lowly serf to a queen who was warranted veneration.

And his lips were on hers now and she was lovely. He felt a change coalesce over her pulling him in, a swelling of heat and lustrous light. Kimber couldn't help himself, he wrapped his arms around her back pulling her closer to him.

She felt his arousal against her stomach, delighted at the prospect. Yes, whispered the terrible dragon, let him take you. She wanted to just enjoy the kiss, the first one in a lifetime that pleased her, but the voice kept hissing louder and louder in her ear. She imagined him turning her around roughly and shoving into her hard. Or bending her down to her hands and knees and mounting her naked body. Moisture was already gathering between her thighs and her nipples hardened. Fucking instincts.

Her eyes shot open. She could see her glow illuminating his closed eyelids and pale face. If he paused for a moment to catch a breath or pulled away for any reason he would see. A thick beam of moonlight crossed the forest floor just beyond him. She needed to reach it quickly before he opened his eyes. His strong arms still held her close. An inkling sprouted to just let it play out, to let fate take her where it would. But she was sure it would lead to this stranger deep inside her.

Would that be so terrible?

Shut up.

Kimber felt like he was melting into to her, her body taut and demanding. He merried in the tension that spiraled and bound gathering as a hot rush through his groin. His hands were splayed across her hard back keeping her body pressed close to his. He moved them down testing new territories, wanting to explore more of her.

She didn't want to stop it. She wanted to give him a free rein, but she couldn't risk passing the opportunity. He was moving his hands, the pressure no longer as stringent, down the small of her back his fingers teasing the top crest of her buttocks. She painfully ripped her lips from his, a resounding pucker resonating through her ears, and slipped out of his grasp ducking under his arms.

She held for a moment, bathing herself in the moonlight, warping it, bending it around her, relieved at the return of her shield.

Kimber was left standing there in a daze, realizing now the absence of her warmth. He turned to face her yearning to touch her again. "I apologize," he began, "I didn't mean to-"

"Don't trouble yourself noble Lord," she said, cutting him off with a dismissing wave of the hand. "You're not the first man I've known to get a bit handsy." She knew passing it off as his fault was unfair. She'd been just as willing, just as wanting, but self preservation got the better of her.

Kimber didn't even know this woman and the mention of other men sent a spear of irritation through his gut. A subtle southern breeze offered him her scent and the realization that she was no longer pressed against his naked body hit like an unexpected downpour. It filled him with regret, remembering her firm flesh in the palm of his hand, but deeper still in that dim place where the black dragon lurked - desire. She was unlike anyone he had ever known, something bewitching hidden just out of reach. He gripped his hands into tight fists, willing every muscle not to move. He felt the shadow slither up, the beast stirring just under his skin. Take your mate, it hissed in his ear. Claim what is yours, it demanded.

The thief saw the change in him, she'd seen that look before: men in the throws of passion denied what they considered their due. She'd crushed a man's larynx once and even severed another's fingers with a meat cleaver for grabbing her uninvited. There was something, though, much more perilous and primal prowling in this creature before her. He was no man, but "drákon". She feared, despite her strength, there was little she could do to stay him should his instincts take over. She gripped him with warning eyes wondering how under control that beast inside of him was - whatever it may truly be.

Kimber had been Alpha heir since birth. Gossip and speculation abounded on who he would take as a mate all of his years. It was a natural law of their kind that Alpha wed Alpha and since Kimber was directly related to all the women that could Turn, the issue was a bit more muddled. The young ladies of the shire -every one of them alluring, every one of them dragon-girls – competed fiercely for the honor, vying for that coveted position of wife of the marquess and mate of the Alpha. He'd dallied aplenty. Meeting them in the woods. Turning after they begged so they could ride atop his back to the moon, clinging to his body with warm, strong thighs. Letting them undress him and explore his body. They always hoped that maybe he would slip up, that they might be the one to catch him in that moment of weakness, snared in their eager hands and moist lips. That was always were it ended. Kimber never let it go further. It wasn't difficult really. Not one of them truly allured him. So he figured, if they were going to use him, then fair was fair. He certainly enjoyed the release their bodies offered.

The drákon by nature coupled for life. Once mated, interference between husband and wife was considered a mortal offense. Either the challenger fought and killed for the object of their desire. Or they lost their life. For appearances sake vows were taken in the chapel in Darkfrith, if only to make it well known who now belonged to who. So, young couples were damn careful when they stole off into the woods knowing that sex meant matrimonial permanence. 'Til death do you part' ran bloody deeper than the culturally constructed practices of Others.

Kimber finally came back to himself. He looked at the thief shrouded in moonlight, so plain and ordinary, glaring at him with dull eyes. Practically human.

He berated himself for almost having bonded with her, having lost a degree of control. In fact, it even frightened him how much he had wanted it. She couldn't possibly be his mate. He wasn't even sure she could Turn. For a moment he was angry. She had kissed him. She had tempted him. Like all those other girls waiting for him to slip, she was trying to claim him. It was all illogical really, to presume she had such a poignant agenda. Besides, she had stopped the kiss when he hadn't the willpower. Never before had the black dragon risen like that and it filled Kimber with unease.

"What's your name?" he asked, realizing he should find out at least that much. His voice had mellowed and erection subsided.

The thief released a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. She gave him another cautious look through guarded lashes.

"Will you be needing identification for my prison cell?"

Kimber suddenly remembered why he was here. A runner, the Hunt. She was his captive. Of the shire or not he was bound by law to bring her back to Darkfrith, whether it be at the end of a tether or of her own free will. He preferred the latter.

"I was hoping the circumstances might be different," he said. He made no move towards her. "You are one of us, you must know?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

The thief remained still, her stare fixed on him.

"It can't have been easy out there, alone. Always wondering what you were. Never knowing why you can pick out the words of a whisper in a crowded room, or why you can catch the scent of a stag miles away. Why even the most hardened soldier is no match for you?"

His voice soothed her with a lyrical element. He gazed at her with his deep eyes, pulling her into his depths.

She felt found, after living in a sea of lost.

"Aren't you the least bit curious?" he asked. His expression was soft and full of sympathy.

In truth, she was curious. She'd spent her life searching for those like her, always wandering from place to place only to be disappointed. She'd uncovered many secrets and discovered countless hidden pockets of beauty that this world held, but never had she found another dragon. The loneliness had become palpable. She began to believe that she truly was alone, a freak of nature abandoned to her fate. And now before her stood a man, claiming to be the same, more beautiful than any creature she had ever seen, offering to take her with.

She looked away, a single tear drop threatening to fall. There was a certain danger, she knew, like entering a lions den with a bleeding wound. But she couldn't not go. She waited for the tear to fall before turning back to him, wondering if he had heard it hit a decaying twig by her feet. She certainly had.

"What if I forgot the theft? What if I ensured you forego judgment and simply came as a curious visitor? Would you come with me then?"

She perked up.

"To see your home?"

He nodded. Her interest was clear.

She took a few steps pacing to a fallen tree and back. Her eyes shot to the moon and then fell upon Kimber, hardening at once. "One week. I'll come with you for one week."

His mouth twisted in dissatisfaction. "Two," bargained Kimber.

"One. And then I decide whether I stay," she repeated sternly.

A breathy laugh escaped his lips. "I fail to see your leverage in this negotiation," he asked with a curious grin.

"My leverage is simply going back the way I came," she stated haughtily.

"I doubt that. I caught you with ease. What's to keep me from dragging you all the way there?"

"With ease you say? The cut on your face and swelling bruise on your shin beg to differ."

He pressed a hand to his cheek feeling a crust of dried blood. In all the kerfuffle he hadn't even noticed.

"You may be stronger, you may be faster, but you didn't succeed without damage. Imagine dragging me, stark naked as you are, fighting you the entire way. Who knows, maybe next time I'll get lucky and hit something of greater value." Her eyes dropped from his, settling for a moment with a raised brow on his manhood.

He let out a breathy chuckle. "You drive a hard bargain."

"Sorry noble Lord. I'm not accustomed to giving quarter," she replied, with hands on her hips.

Neither am I. Kimber was beyond amused. She knew she had lost and still she made demands of him.

Whether she'd agreed to stay for a day, a week, or a year was irrelevant. She was going to her new home in Darkfrith for the rest of her days. Once he had her there, she hadn't a chance of escaping the finest hunters on the planet. He contemplated denying her, hoping for one last attempt to provoke a Turn (if she could), an idea that sent a spark through his belly.

He could tell her right now the truth of their world; their strict laws; their relentless containment. He could make clear to her the order of things. She'd probably hate him for it and fight him every step, but at least he could take her back with a clear conscience and, if by luck she Turned, then he would claim her right here in the forest. By morning he would go home with a mate and she would eventually come to accept the facts.

But he liked her like this, confident and defiant yet still playful and interested. He didn't relish the idea of dragging her back and risking her threats. He'd have plenty of time anyways to coax the truth from her once she was safe in the confines of the shire.

"Well? Which will it be?" she asked impatiently.

He opened his mouth still undecided. He settled on a simple "agreed," and a tip of his head.

"I admit I'm a little disappointed," she confessed. "It's been my experience that noble Lords never accept not getting their way."

You have no idea, Kimber thought with a crooked smile.

"Well I suppose if we are going to be spending the next week together, then introductions are in order. My name is Sunniva."