A Ballad of the Sun and the Moon

Chapter 4

After two hours of walking in the dark towards the single road leading to Darkfrith, they slept on the forest floor behind the tree line. Kimber knew the direction, the North star being one of his companions at night.

Sunniva still wore half of her valet's livery with Kimber now sporting her stolen coat. They'd gone back and retrieved it and the stolen jewelry, sniffing both out in the dark.

Kimber didn't actually sleep. He had her agreement, but no way of verifying its authenticity.

It wouldn't be till morning that his siblings would arrive - or so he hoped. Rhys, having been on Hunts before and not lacking in imagination, was certain to assume that either the runner was safely within the confines of Darkfrith or still in Kimber's clutches. He would either way - upon discovery of an absent brother - make up a suitable excuse and head with the carriage in the direction of the shire.

Kimber used the time till sun up to contemplate her. Retaining his vigilance throughout the night he watched as his captive slumbered curled up at the base of a tall birch. He, on the other hand, propped himself against an opposing tree where he had her well in sight, allowing his gaze to roam.

A few buttons from the blouse had gone missing in the skirmish, now exposing her throat pulsing slow and steady. She had pulled off her oversized boots revealing a pair of impish feet tucked close to her thighs. She seemed perfectly at ease out here on the forest floor: a mess of pine needles and mulch for a bed, the distant lullaby of a nightingale, a blanket of silver moonlight wrapped around her. Hardly the sight of a feral dragon.

There was a danger to any secrets she held, possible threats to his home and people. He'd have to sniff them out, and if she didn't relinquish them, coax them out more forcefully.

Where all had she been? Did anyone know what she was? Was there another tribe of dragons? More drákon hidden away in a place like Darkfrith. He didn't think it likely, as it was clear she didn't even know what he was, but it was a possibility he had to consider.

She surely couldn't be from the shire. He'd met every young female in the past twenty years that could have made a suitable mate and she definitely had not been among them.

Mate.

It was another issue on his mind. The woman lying there could quite possibly be Kimber's bride even if she didn't know it. If she had the Gifts, if she could Turn, then by law she was his. Alpha mated with Alpha. He relished the idea of no longer having that uncertainty hanging over his head, of having fulfilled that last responsibility sealing his position. But he needed to know first. He was duty-bound to take the strongest of women sending that strength through generations to come.

His thoughts reached back to the recent past, of memories of her lips, the taught muscles of her back - a treacherous trail leaving him wanting more. His eyes raked once more down the still figure lying there like a wood nymph. She stirred for a moment, letting out a sleeping whimper. He wished he could touch her again.

The sun slipped through the trees as fingers of gold and white, grasping at Kimber's eyes, blinding. His hand instinctively rose to shield them. It was nearly imperceptible at first, the aura of Sunniva shifting like the wax and wane of the moon, but as the sun continued to rise the luminescence surrounding her pulled tighter and closer. By the time the light had consumed her, she seemed nothing more than a rugged country girl in a man's clothes. He realized she hadn't been asleep before, her pulse slowing even more and her breath deepening.

Kimber blinked twice, his eyes filling in for what his other senses could not. He yearned for that creature of the night no longer before him, wishing dearly for her return. Even her scent was no longer as potent. He continued to contemplate her for the few hours she slept as he waited for his siblings and guard. He straightened his back against the tree once she began to stir.

Sunniva awoke to the quaking thunder - at least it was to her - of racing hooves and metal-rimmed wheels striking packed dirt. She peeled herself away from the earth with her ear cocked to the South. Kimber was staring at her, his face indiscernible.

"Good morning," he offered amicably, a well-rehearsed greeting by a man born and raised as nobility.

"Do you hear that?" she asked.

Kimber tipped his head as well.

"Horses and a carriage. Yours I presume?" She sat up like a mermaid perched on a rock, legs tucked close and palms against the ground.

He looked at her incredulous adjusting his head still hearing nothing.

"Quite the early birds aren't they?" she added.

Kimber closed his eyes concentrating his ears. "My brother and sister aren't ones for breakfast."

He opened his eyes settling them on Sunniva. How confounding she was.
She seemed so plain, hardly that of a drákon at all. In the light of day her eyes were a dull gray and her hair a peasant's blonde. Her skin was hardly that of alabaster, instead sun-kissed and freckled. And yet she heard his carriage coming from leagues away, a feat he couldn't even accomplish.

She stood up from her impromptu bed. "As you can see, I've kept my word," she said. "I'm still here ready and waiting for penance." She held out her arms towards him as if waiting to be shackled.

"I thought our agreement was that there would be no penance," he reminded jovially.

A mirroring of satisfied smiles formed at that.

They remained just behind the treeline as the embarrassingly ornate Langford carriage with gilded carvings and tasseled windows came over the hilltop. The horses wheezed and a white froth surrounded the harness and leather straps that touched their fur and skin. Quintin sat atop the driver's seat which he expediently abandoned after a skidding halt. He pulled two axes from a luggage compartment hung on the back and tossed one to Rhys who had emerged from within.

Sunniva recognized them both from the hunting party, noting how much more menacing they looked than before. Beautiful noblemen transformed into barbarous warriors, poised for battle as they charged to meet their foe.

"What kind of thief did you expect to catch?" she asked Kimber, brows raised.

"Someone much more dangerous," he stated playfully.

"I'm insulted. I'm much more dangerous than you give me credence."

Kimber tipped his head to hers dusting the tip of her ear with his breath. "Then prove it."

It tickled her senses when he drew near, her skin sprouting savory little goose pimples roused by a few words. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth biting down in excitement.

Kimber stepped out from behind a tree and promptly spoke once the men were near. "That won't be necessary."

Sunniva followed close behind him. She noticed that same change in demeanor in the men as with Kimber the night before, albeit more subtle. They simply hadn't expected to find a woman.

"This is the thief?" Rhys asked in disbelief, his jaw dropped and eyes large.

"Not quite," replied Kimber. "I think things best be explained after we return to Darkfrith."

****

His name was Kimber Ellery Darce Langford, Earl of Chasen. It sounded so preposterous, too comical of a facade, a visage so tame Sunniva wanted to laugh. She'd spent the latter half of her life keeping apart from humans with the exception of her recent necessary thefts in which she moved among the Others in a way that no one noticed her. Sometimes as a chamber maid, sometimes a livery boy, and recently, as an exception, the valet of a marquess' son. She'd dawned the faces of gardeners, pages, hall and boot boys, always junior staff requiring little skill to pass as authentic and to whom one of importance paid little mind. She was a dragon after all. Scales and teeth and talons and flame had no use for fancy dinners, or warm baths, or luxuries mortals held so dear.

And sitting next to her in this ridiculous carriage drawn by ridiculous horses was a noble family of dragons (possibly) who ruled a territory filled with mortals. Genuine princes among men.

She wasn't sure whose disguise was more clever. Though why they simply didn't fly home was beyond her. Humans had terribly poor eyesight using the right light. Still, if these siblings were reluctant to show their true colors she refused to show them hers.

She needed to be careful here. They may be her kind, but she knew, like every Mythic she'd encountered, they had their own set of rules, creedos by which they lived, social hierarchies determining their place among their own people.

Even the fact that they had positioned Sunniva strategically seated in the middle of all three instead of two across from two was something she noticed; the sister across from her and the two brothers on either side. It seemed an odd seating arrangement, like that of a prisoner rather than a guest. None of them spoke as if not sure what to make of her. Perhaps they were expecting some other type of thief or were simply wary of her, just as she was of them. Still, she wasn't being dragged by her throat so evidence of a criminal status wasn't conclusive.

She leaned her head back resting it against a velvet, double-welted cushion fixed to the interior. The carriage was well-sprung, the only feature that Sunniva was thankful for, allowing her to relax without the violent jerks as with horse-traps and hacknies.

Kimber kept the shades open. There was no hope of keeping his catch a secret so he figured he would at least spare everyone a carriage ride in the hot summer without fresh air. He didn't need to see though what he felt in his bones as they crossed over the unmarked border. They passed the first gameskeeper's house, a quaint log cabin tucked away in the trees. It was an inaccurate title of the profession as they weren't there to monitor game, but rather to watch the borders and keep the drákon well within them.

The further they got into the shire the more relieved Kimber felt knowing Sunniva was contained. It didn't give him, however, any ideas what to do with her.

Procedure for runners was fairly standard. Assuming they came quietly they would undergo judgment by the council. It would be assessed whether the perpetrator was a flight risk and the punishments ranged from clipped wings to execution. Those doomed for death were burnt and laid to rest in a forbidden cemetery where they were shamed and forgotten.

The woman at his shoulder - her feminine scent and slight smile a constant reminder - was no runner. He decided it might be best if given a few days to adjust before becoming subject of an interrogation. He'd keep her secluded as long as he could and hoped his father might have some wisdom upon his return.

He was glad that the village was further North and all that was between them was road and trees. The shire was designed like that on purpose, allowing the ruling family first knowledge of any visitors. In this case he could get the woman inside without too many inquiring faces.

"We're nearly there," announced Kimber as the road changed from dirt to crushed gravel. He felt her shift and knew she sensed what he did. His guards were waiting for his return.

It struck at Sunniva like jolts of lighting, the electricity burning away her skin leaving nothing but her core exposed. She tried concentrating on her other senses: chirping crickets hiding in shaggy ferns, the fragrance of the forest drifting across her nose with each short gust. And Kimber, cool against her left shoulder smelling of the moon and delicious male. She didn't mean to, but in a betrayal of her own instincts she pulled closer to him.

The carriage listed to a halt. The door was flung open, letting more light pour in. Rhys was first to alight, placing buckled shoe directly on the ground avoiding the footplate all together. Joan came next, graceful as a cat, hardly making a sound as her heeled pump met the iron and then the small rocks of the driveway. Kimber waited till his sister had moved further on before climbing out of the carriage.

Overwhelmed and unprepared, Sunniva froze. So many of them surrounding her, their energies flaunting and surging in sharp waves, it was all she could do to keep the skin on her back. She glanced out of the carriage where the eyes of servants peered in, feeling the fire rise in her throat threatening to escape.

"It's all right," came a deep, soothing voice from outside.

Sunniva hadn't realized she'd closed her eyes. She opened them to see only the earl's face. She concentrated on him, using her only familiarity in this new place like a raft afloat a flooding river. She put her hands on the door frame and pulled herself up from the seat making herself get out quickly before she lost her nerve. Practiced feet landed on the ground spryly. She realized Kimber had offered her his hand, quite the gentleman's custom. Unfortunate she hadn't noticed, she would have loved the feeling of his palm under her fingers.

The servants lining the path were all men and Sunniva wondered if they might instead be soldiers, all disciplined males, their focus on their Lord awaiting his word. A few eyes flickered towards her as her boots softly crunched pebbles.

Sunniva pulled her back straight and tightened her shoulders. She met a few eyes with her own, boldly daring them to keep looking. It was a simple law of beasts she had learned, that a certain degree of respect was held in the eyes. But these men were all predators and not one shied away. How she wished she could parse what they were thinking.

She stopped before the first step of the massive house hearing the whispers of curious faces much further away. She turned a moment catching a pique ripple over the onlookers.

Kimber noticed it too, a spark that lit from face to face of the crowd gathered at the edge of the perfectly manicured lawn of Chasen manor.

"Who are they all? Why are they all looking?" she asked.

There was no way that word had reached the shire about what he had caught. Even his men patrolling the perimeter couldn't have known that a strange woman would emerge from his carriage.

Rumors certainly had a way of spreading quickly in such a tight knit community. They knew that Kimber Langford had left three days ago to Hunt a runner. And they knew that when the Alpha's heir was involved, somebody would always emerge from the carriage either alive, trussed and hooded; or dead, wrapped in burlap.

So of course everyone wanted to know who'd been returned. But when a stranger, unbound, unhooded, female and dressed in men's clothing, crawled out of that carriage, the gossip caught and spread like a wildfire.

Kimber would give it a few days and ask his sister what the running theory floating around the tribe was. He'd figure out later how to properly present her to society hoping to avoid insult or injury. For now he just wished to avoid a headache.

"This is our tribe. Our people. They are merely curious about you," he stated vaguely.

He pressed a firm palm against her back encouraging her forward.

"Come."

****

Joan poured a large pitcher of scalding water over the thief's head washing away the grime of last night. Her brother hadn't felt comfortable letting another member of the tribe close to the thief yet, so the task fell to his sister to see her dressed.

She drew a silk robe over the thief's shoulders after she climbed out of a large copper tub and waited for her in the bedroom.

A fine frock of green velvet with lace was already laid out on the bed. Once dressed she sat her down in front of a vanity carved of white aspen with gold inlay cut into delicate grooves. The thief ran a thumb across the metal lines likely appreciating that natural hum it emitted. It wasn't the only stone singing a song in the room. The silver candelabras in the corner waltzed a jive. The brass handles on the vanity produced a smooth melody. And inside the thief's pants hanging off the back of her chair thrummed something unique, deep and smoky.

Joan produced a comb from one of the ornate drawers and promptly applied it to Sunniva's hair. Piece by piece Joan freed the strands from tangles, a task hardly daunting since her hair was short.

"Your jewelry is with your brother," began the thief.

"I know," replied Joan. She pinned back the few measly strands of hair with pins as stylishly as she could manage.

The thief continued. "You must be wondering how I acquired it."

Joan gave her a polite smile. She was trying to keep conversation to a minimum, knowing her brother wished to be in control of what information was revealed.

"Not even a little curious?" the thief prodded once more.

"Jewels go missing all the time." Joan opened one of the drawers pulling out various tins and cosmetic boxes arranging them carefully on the vanity. She opened a few, examined them and set them aside with a frown.

"Your skin is far too tan. I believe only a lead base might make you look appropriate but we've nothing but powder. We've never had need of it."

It was a simple fact. The drákon were pale, their alabaster skin conveniently fitting with the fashion of the time. Joan prided herself on keeping up with the latest trends of London. She was tasked by her brother to make their 'guest' more comfortable and for her that meant experiencing the finery of the upper class.

The thief's face in the reflection changed and it became clear to Joan she'd taken her words as a slight.

"Your jewels didn't go missing. They were stolen," corrected the thief, her manner sneering.

Joan couldn't entirely put her finger on what was so irking about this woman. That beast within crackled and boiled and wished to rise up to the provocation.

"It was a meager set," dismissed Joan, putting the finishing touches of black kohl around the thief's eyes.

"I take it you have many then?"

"Jewels? Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"Is it a part of the human facade to be this conceited or is this how you actually are?"

Joan couldn't believe the thief's hubris. Had she any idea who she was talking to? She was the daughter of Alphas, her parents the greatest to rule the drákon in living memory. Out of hundreds of women only she, her mother and sister could Turn. She was the Alpha female of the tribe. Who even was this woman to challenge her?

"I find it not worth my while to engage in conversation with a criminal," snapped Joan.

"I thought as much. Though I hardly find it a crime to steal trifles from nobles who gouge every last penny from their tenants."

"That's not how we are!"

That Joan was on edge was obvious.

"Oh? Enlighten me," prompted Sunniva, as if pleased to have touched a nerve.

Joan felt the desire to snatch the woman's throat. This halfling was hardly even a dragon and dared to insult Joan in her own home.

She reached into the pocket of Sunniva's pants pulling out a silvery-white pearl hung on a delicate platinum chain. It was the size of a robin's egg and shaped like a dried plumb, puckered and shiny. She held it up to the light, the ivory-like surface reflecting the evening sun in stark hues of red and orange. Joan had heard it ever since Sunniva entered the carriage.

"Trifles? You steal only trifles?! I'd hardly call *this* a trifle."

The thief snatched it away. "I didn't steal that," she insisted clutching the pearl to her chest.

"Oh? Enlighten me," retorted Joan.

Sunniva uncoiled the chain from her hand and clasped the necklace around her neck. "It was my mother's," she finally confessed.

"And I bet she is just like you."

"No," she corrected. "No one is like me," said the thief proudly.

Joan raised her eyes in disbelief. The thin-blooded peasant woman sitting in front of her was without a clue. Everyone here was like her and most of them even greater. That Kimber even brought her in the first place seemed a bit overkill. Still, she knew the rules; even the weakest drákon left to the outside world was a threat. Her brother had only done what their laws required of him.

"Dinner will be served soon and I must get changed. Someone will fetch you. In the meantime, wait here."

She left the room allowing herself a chuckle once the door had latched at the thief's misguided bravado. A guard had already been placed at the room's entrance. He gave her a nod of acknowledgment.

Sunniva was relieved the sister had left. She wasn't sure why such a sudden feeling of animosity had come over her as if the barbarous dragon within had been waiting for an opportunity to show its talons.

Sunniva kicked off the uncomfortable pumps and sat down on the bed, legs dangling off the edge. She found the lace over her décolletage terribly itchy but resisted the urge to rip the offending fabric from her chest. She closed her eyes allowing her senses to wander as she waited for supper. It was easier now, without the jostle of the carriage and the enticing scent of the Earl next to her.

The sister was down the hall, no longer moving much apart from the expected to and fro of a woman in her dressing room. A man - she was sure it was male judging from the pungent perspiration - lingered outside her door. These "drákon" were all around her, above, below. Everywhere. Yet it still didn't match the brutal force she had felt on their approach.

There must be more, so many more, she thought, a mischievous idea creeping up from below.

Along with it came a useful realization. She'd always been a creature of the day hiding in the light, staring blatantly down upon the keenest of predators unaware, the sun behind her shining its terrible rays. It was when she was her strongest, her magic most potent. They hadn't picked her out at Hawksmead despite having been very close, a useful fact she'd have to remember.

And there was theory she wished to test. Kimber said she was their guest yet the sister still considered her a criminal and she was clearly being watched. "Let us see how honest dear Kimber is," Sunniva whispered to herself.

****

Kimber sat in his father's chair opposite his brother, a large, mahogany desk filling the expanse between them. It was kept meticulously tidy, a set of goose quills lying parallel to each other, a cloisonné inkwell to the right of those and in the center a perfectly aligned stack of parchment. A cacophony of clocks rang in imperfect unison signaling the change of the hour. It was three now. They had arrived too late for lunch and too early for dinner.

Kimber's stomach began to rumble. He was hungry and tired and could think of nothing except for what to do with the new addition to the tribe. He told his brother the events of last night careful to leave out the kiss.

"Do you suspect she can Turn?" Rhys asked. They had all initially assumed it. How else would someone have been so successful robbing jewels? But sitting in the carriage with her made them doubt.

"I couldn't confirm it," replied Kimber. He stuck his fingers into his hair. "I thought so at first but now...I honestly don't know," he finally confessed, pulling his hands out leaving greasy black strands behind. "Last night in the woods she was so vibrant and when the sun rose she became..."

Kimber wasn't sure how to finish the sentence. He pressed a hand to his eyes, rubbing the gritty sleep away.

"Dull?" His brother offered. "Lackluster? Plain? Human?"

Kimber nodded in agreement.

They sat for a moment in silence, in thought, the ticking of the clock counting the seconds that went by.

"Do you suppose it a Gift?" his brother finally asked.

Kimber perked up.

Like every other people on the planet the drákon ranged greatly in their abilities. Some could smell better, others had ears that reached far. Some had an uncanny sense to feel their own kind, making them formidable hunters. The men still had the Gift of smoke and scales and sharp talons and wings that ripped apart the night in broken spears of color.

They of course had their legends of individuals blessed with more.

Red-haired and fire-willed Nadus who had first touched down talon to this land in what would become Darkfrith. By force of will alone he had pulled his people to this rough and untested isle.

And Illan, who with powers of seduction, swooned a Celtic witch and claimed her as his own.

There was Clarimonde, who was said to control Water and to have charmed an entire legion of human soldiers set out to kill her.

There was Theodus the Mystic.

Kieran the Unfortunate.

William the Blessed.

And for generations those legends had been folk tales for adults to exhalt their children of those ancient times of greatness, or morals used for stories of purity or virtue or other such idealistic nonsense. They'd been fictional and falsified beacons of hope, depressing the cynical and encouraging the optimistic. No one doubted a stem of truth to them, but like any story over time they grew and twisted like the gnarly branches of an old great oak. Apart from the wishful imaginations of children no one truly believed that the drákon could ever be blessed with anything more than the Gifts the tribe saw every night in the sky over Darkfrith.

Until Kimber.

The product of two true Alphas, the golden child, the perfect offspring of the perfect mates. His Turn was seamless, his senses uncanny, his prowess unmatched but he was more than that. He could, even on the clearest of nights, render himself unseen. Not man or moon or even the keenest of drákon could seek him out. It wasn't clever tactics, like remaining downwind or taking advantage of ever changing clouds. He could simply disappear. One moment he was there and the next, without even moving, he seemed gone.

There was a correlation among their kind: the strongest of them exhibited the greatest presence, emitting that frisson that every drákon did, an unmistakable force warning those of their place. But for Kimber even that was something he could hide. A truly dreadful feeling for anyone he hunted.

"What do you suppose that Gift might be?"

Rhys shrugged his shoulders. "I couldn't say. Something like you?"

Kimber's eyes widened.

Rhys perched himself on the edge of the desk. "Or maybe she is just a thin-blooded fluke. What do you plan to do with her?" he asked grabbing a quill and running his fingers down the feather.

Kimber raked his palms down the length of his face.

"Wait till Mother and Father return. I'll keep her close, gather information. We need to find out how she came about outside of our territory. In the meantime I need something to eat."

****

Kimber trudged up the stairs thinking about how to approach this strange drákon. At his wits end trying to empathize, Kimber conjured the perspective of a young, human female – of whom he had adequate experience – discovering the shire for the first time. Certainly in awe of Chasen manor and most likely impressed by his title, he imagined her being flattered with gifts of jewels more grand than any she had stolen. Eventually he'd reveal to her his position as Alpha and explain what that meant among their kind.

He had told one of his guards to linger near her room before he met with his brother for precaution's sake. Inconspicuous was the word he had used. He didn't want Sunniva knowing she would be observed and guarded.

Kimber gave the man a single nod before knocking on the door.

"Sunniva? Supper is ready. May I enter?"

No answer. He knocked again, this time louder.

"Sunniva?"

He put his ear to the door hearing not even the sound of breath. He turned the handle and swung the door open, taking great strides as he entered. She was nowhere to be seen. The room held the barest scent of her. It pulled Kimber's thoughts to the first night they had met when she had been pressed close to him. She certainly had been there, that spicy scent still lingering. He checked the windows, looking for any clues.

If she had Turned to smoke she would have had to open a window beforehand and would not have been able to close it behind her. As smoke, they weren't able to manipulate things as they could as human or dragon.

Kimber blurted an expletive loudly, banging his hands against the stone holding the window frame.

The guard rushed in. "Is something amiss Sir?"

"How did she escape?"

"What?"

"The woman! The runner! I mean the...the one you're supposed to be guarding! How could you not hear her leave?" chastised Kimber, feeling a bit frayed around the edges.

"She was quiet as a mouse. Nothing seemed amiss," replied the guard.

Kimber turned back to the window, threw it open and leaned out. He looked down wondering if she might have jumped. He contemplated an attempt but knew he would have to Turn to smoke before landing. She must have gone out her own door when the guard wasn't paying attention. It was a ludicrous notion. George was hardly a novice, considered even one of the marquess' more trusted men. He wouldn't have been careless. He hadn't simply been preoccupied as the thief casually left. Sunniva clearly had Gifts indeed, her stealthy escape being proof of that. He'd have to find her before she got too far.

Kimber's anger dissipated as quickly as it had come. The thought of the Hunt stirred the black dragon. The idea of chasing a female who could Turn roused a white hot heat so foreign and welcomed that he could hardly keep the skin on his back.

"Should I call Quinten? Rufus and the others? Should I rouse the council?"

"No. I will hunt her alone," he commanded, the urgency clear in his tone.

"My Lord?"

"I said, I will hunt her alone," Kimber repeated, lower now in a more dangerous tone.

It would have been wise to accept the assistance, he knew, and his father would have chastised him, but the thought of other men pursuing her felt like an onslaught of jagged thorns digging into his side. He wouldn't permit it, couldn't allow it. If she could Turn by all rights she was his. His Alpha female. His bride. His mate.

He felt that cool, collected control slip and a greater, more dangerous one begin to take hold.

"Inform no one. Those are your orders and I will not be disobeyed. Now go."

"Yes, my Lord."

Kimber turned back to the windows, the slanted light covering half of the room.

When he was young, his father told him about how he tracked his mother by her scent alone. Lilacs it was. As a boy Kimber loved hearing that story, begging his father to retell it again and again.

He dreamed of a moment like this. Of chasing his mate as they were meant to be; streaks of scales ascending to the heavens, wings cutting swaths through the sky, taking her throat between his teeth and claiming her. The animal in him always so close to his skin awoke, uncurling its talons and flexing its wings.

He'd caught her once. He alone had the strength for this. He licked his lips still able to taste her from just twelves hours ago. He brought himself to the window's edge breathing deep the dry summer air, smelling harvested wheat, and drying moss on river stones, and the sweet nectar of honey suckle climbing a pergola in the extensive manor garden. He moved out of the sun's beating rays and paused to close his eyes, concentrating, stretching his senses.

He felt the black dragon rising, its hunger glittering through his blood, and welcomed the power that flooded him.

He brought her back to him. He summoned her face, the feel of her hands gripping his arms. The surge of power he felt when she kissed him revealing something beneath.

He filled his lungs again.

Tobacco, lit with a wooden match smoked from a pipe. Roasting venison, gin from the tavern, the metallic odor of a scythe being whetted. The forest, Darkfrith's single flock of sheep, perfumed maidens. Drákon, drákon, drákon, and familiar drákon - and then -

Nothing.

He opened his eyes, faced the four-post bed where that fading scent of her still lingered, then turned back to the window. Again nothing.

Try as he might there wasn't a trace of her apart from the enticing scent resembling those summer flowers from the bed. He snorted at the irony of it and sat down, sinking into the feathers.

The odd memory of once hiding under the bed popped in his head. He had wanted to scare his sister Audrey, waiting till bedtime and then grabbing her feet as she climbed in.

It would be ridiculous but he decided to check anyways. He bent over and looked under the frame. Sunniva was not there of course, but he did find the source of her scent. A pair of pumps and discarded stockings laid in a messy pile beneath. He picked up one, imagining himself the prince in some bastardized version of Ella in the Cinders.

Kimber pulled back the duvet and when he found nothing tore the sheets off as well. He was looking for an empty dress, hoping for some proof that she had Turned. He tossed the many pillows to the floor and lifted the mattress. So possessed with finding anything, any clue to Sunniva, he hardly heard Rhys at the door as he began tearing the rugs away from the floor.

"Have you lost something?"

Kimber whipped his head towards him. He was leaning against the door frame with one foot casually crossed over the other.

"Did George tell you? I specifically told him not to-"

Rhys raised both hands innocently. "George said nothing. I simply came up here to confirm something."

"And what would that be?"

"That the strange woman reportedly wandering about is in fact your jewel thief."

"She's been spotted?" Kimber jerked up.

Rhys nodded. "By a certain Daniel Hawthorne," he stated with familiarity.

"Who the hell is that?" Kimber knew all the names of every scout, hunter, guard, and soldier in his father's retinue. He'd even made a point to memorize their wives and children's names. But the name offered no face.

"I am told he brings the post from the village. Which is precisely where she has been seen. Wandering around looking perfectly human."

Kimber didn't hesitate nor did he ask more. He ran out of the room leaving his clothes and human skin on.

****

Sunniva could feel them; so many - similar to the noble family with whom she came - but all at once bombarding her with their presence. It seemed impossible to count them like sand specks in a dust storm assaulting her in a single, violent cloud. It was clear to her now what the power of this place was.

She stood in the very center of the village next to a communal fountain in front of the court house. Fully dressed if not slightly disheveled she stretched her hands outward, reaching for invisible somethings.

Kimber felt a twang of disappointment hoping for her to be less human. He approached slowly wondering if she was aware of his presence.

"It's overwhelming," she said without turning, addressing Kimber who was just behind her back. "So many of them, a thousand breaths, a million heartbeats, their energies bouncing off each other. Like bats in a cave. Have you ever seen bats leave a cave at dusk?" she asked turning her head ever so slightly.

Kimber saw a small trail of moisture running from the corner of her right eye to the sharp edge of her jaw.

"I can't say that I have," he replied.

"I have," she said turning back to the hustle of the village. "Many times. Blind as they are, it's amazing how they never collide coming out at night in such droves."

Kimber was pulled in by the look of awe on her face. He wondered what she might be feeling, seeing so many drákon all at once for the first time. He completely forgot about the circumstances for which he had come: she'd escaped and he came to capture her.

Sunniva glanced at the man now standing at her side finding him temptingly beautiful in the afternoon sun, his black hair shining like polished obsidian, his aura beckoning.

"Can you tell me what this feels like, right now? Being around them all for the first time. I can't imagine it. My kind have always been around me."

His eyes were fixed on her now, fathomless, dark, forcing her gaze despite her resistance.

"It's like lighting in a dry, desert storm pulling the hair on your arm giving you goose pimples and you feel that potential under your skin, with the smell of rain lurking, but it's so high it dries before reaching the ground."

Kimber had only read about deserts and she had even been there, in a storm no less. He watched her close her eyes again and stretch her hands and he was perceptive to nothing else but her.

"If I concentrate," she continued, "I can pick them out like individual drops of rain. One falls on a leaf, another on a rock, another on a branch, all ever so slightly different. Unique."

Kimber couldn't help stepping closer to her. He caught her scent, subtle and secluded. A seductive mixture of contradictions: sweet and spicy, rose and citrus. With his chest almost pressed to her back and his shadow blocking the sun he could feel that power radiating from her, a white hot heat pricking pins into his skin.

She was not the hunted but the huntress. Not the prey, but the predator. Not human, but drákon, carefully concealed in soft skin and a gentle face. The thought sent a spiraling heat into his belly, traveling down, down.

He reached out as if in reflex, grazing her sleaved elbow with spry fingers. She didn't pull away instead bunching her fingers into a loose fist.

"For instance, that gentleman over there browsing the yarn selection," she said as she stretched out a single finger.

"He feels exactly like the gentleman who has been standing outside my door ever since I arrived."

Kimber's excitement choked in his throat. There, outside the window of the fabric shop, looking at a basket of died and spun wool, was George.

What in blazes was he doing here? thought Kimber.

"What makes you think he was guarding your door? He is just a servant ready to tend to whomever has needs of his service and is now coincidently perusing yarn."

She raised her brows at his slip. Kimber chastised himself for it. It was a juvenile mistake, one that he couldn't afford. But he was tired and hungry and running on the fumes of primal instinct.

"Yes, certainly. I wonder though, what sort of man goes from footman waiting on a dangerous prisoner to shopping for spun wool?"

"I'd like to think of you more as my guest."

"Tactfully salvaged. It was a part of our agreement after all. I'm curious do all guests receive guards?"

"You are an accomplished jewel thief," retorted Kimber.

"And there are certainly many treasures hidden in that labyrinth you call home," she stated casually.

Kimber pondered her meaning, wondering if in the short time she was left alone she'd seen more of Chasen Manor than permitted; the hidden undercroft, The Dead Room, the vault where the tribes most sacred gems were held. Perhaps she was bluffing; a pure act of speculation on the treasures held within the manor's depths. Besides, those places were impossible to break into, even for a dragon. She was clever, he knew, poking and prodding and testing him. Acting to elicit a response investigating what manner of man he was and what type of place she was in.

"I can see that one guard was not enough. An error I'll have to rectify in the future," he half teased.

He felt her tense under his fingers. Even through the scratchy lace of her sleeve, he felt that twitch of contracting muscle.

She hadn't meant it that way. It was only that in the few minutes she'd been in the manor she'd felt the hum of power in the depths beneath her. She wondered if maybe not all the drákon shared her sensitivity – at least during the day. Her face became sincere, her tone serious. "I meant nothing by it. Truly. I won't steal from you or any of your kind."

Your kind she had said. She still didn't believe that they were the same. It was smart of her, he thought, living a life of secrecy. But now she was home and it was time for her to reveal to him who she truly was. It was time for her to show the Alpha her secrets and take her place among the tribe.

"Then I suppose I'll have to rethink the guards. On account of your good behavior." He offered her a puckish grin making his jest clear.

She smiled at him understanding and smoothed some hair out of her face.
"Truth be told I'm more of a seeker of treasure anyways. And treasure is meant to be admired, but never taken."

"And what, then, did you do with all that treasure gone missing from the homes of the gentry, Lady Lodger Thief? Admire it into disappearance? I can't imagine the logistics of such an act."

"What? Oh that. That's wasn't treasure. Merely currency. I have to eat too you know."

He wanted to throw his head back and laugh, but he merely watched her with amused eyes as she began to walk away.

"Speaking of eating," she said, a pleased smirk spread across her face, only pausing a moment to see if he would follow.

He clasped his fingers behind his back and walked beside her towards Chasen manor.

Eventually Kimber's curiosity got the better of him. "How did you leave your room?" he asked, barely able to sound casual.

She stopped and grinned at him mischievously. She grabbed her skirts lifting them up to her knees, sticking a bare foot out soiled and covered in dust.

"It was quite a feat climbing down that palace of yours," she quipped wiggling her toes at him.

Kimber blinked not wishing to believe her. She had climbed. Like a primate she had descended the smooth stone without a rope using only her hands and feet in pleated skirts and a corset to boot. His blood cooled, the truth sobering the wild imaginations of her in flight and the disappointment welled in his stomach. At least he'd regained a bit more control.

It was in a coppice of willows on the edge of the manor gardens that Kimber could no longer contain his burning question.

"Why?"

Sunniva paused and looked into his lovely eyes.

The desperate shrubs and flowers gave off a woody scent scorching to a crisp in the gardens. It was nothing compared to the man standing before her smelling of silver and night jasmine and his enticing self.

None of this place was what Sunniva expected. She had expected a village of humans ruled by a few of these creatures, not a nest of nearly a thousand of whatever they truly were. She expected them to be subtle and sly in their human form, yet they dressed to draw attention, each one of them dripping in jewels and many appearing as aristocracy. The only hint she had that they could take another form was their apparent leader had found her at night in the woods completely devoid of clothing. And now he stood before her in knee breeches and a silk vest.

"I wanted to see what you would do," she stated plainly.

"And did I disappoint?"

"Hard to say," she replied, an icy chill to her tone.

"You don't trust me?"

Sunniva knew she shouldn't. He appeared the leader of powerful beasts, a position one wasn't in were they stupid or weak. Behind those glittery winter eyes there was bound to be jeopardy.

"I don't know you. I don't know your people. I don't know your ways or laws or-" she began to shake her head. "Why am I so drawn to you?"

He took a step towards her now and placed a hand on her shoulder. She was warm, unnaturally so, warmer yet than the sweltering summer air surrounding them.

"I'd like to show you something tonight. I think it might make things clear.".

Slowly, she watched him slide his hand down her arm, waiting for an objection which she never gave. He found her fingers and laced his own among them.

Skin touching skin, soothing cool against blazing fire, it came to Kimber as a jolting lash, a sudden flood wrecking his heart, and if he had any doubts, they burnt away in that instant, the terrible heat of her skin and the full force of her power surging through him.

He tipped his head down, his face now covered in the shade of an isolated willow wisp shrouding his eyes inscrutable. Sunniva felt as if he were looking into her, past her disguise and every other defense wishing to see. It terrified her, yet she didn't want him to stop.

It was all a mirage, the listless pallor of her face, the seeming void she had become in the light of day. It seemed a Gift, one Kimber had never even heard of before. He looked down at her marveling at the trick, wondering what she really looked like, her true visage hidden beneath that shell of magic. It didn't matter now though, there would be time to find out. He had found his mate. She was his.

He dropped his head further, lower now still until his lips found hers.

It was different, this kiss, softer, less urgent, but the passion was there, a languorous, sleek sensation sliding over her lips. She parted them slightly, surprised with her body's invitation.

Kimber wanted to take what she offered and more, yet he retained his modesty wanting to demonstrate his capacity for self control. She made it difficult, letting out a voiceless whimper as he turned his lips to her cheek. He nuzzled her neck, his rough chin a surprising scrape against her throat towards which she arched in submission.

His teeth grazed her skin as she wrapped an arm around his head pulling him closer. She found his lips again and pressed her hips into his, lost to the craving that unfurled through her body, a caldera in the making as the molten metal bubbled and broiled waiting for the right touch, the right man.

Yessss, hissed the terrible serpent.

Even here, even now with the power of the sun Sunniva felt herself falter, the image of bland human trickling away as she lost herself to Kimber's deep embrace.

He must have sensed something different, the change in him apparent. His fingers tensed with new intent, his kiss deepened, exploring and penetrating.

Sunniva jerked away.

Kimber's heart was pounding, his every breath an airy roar. His eyes searched her face for what his body had felt. God she was maddening. He wanted that dragon inside her with an unbearable aching. But every time it showed its face, Sunniva forced it back into it's lair. What was she so afraid of?

"It's too much. Too soon," she panted.

Kimber wanted to lecture her about the instincts of their kind. They weren't simple desires to be fought, but primeval drives that governed them. It was a natural law of drákon, one that had kept them strong since their dawning: Alpha mated with Alpha. And he'd never known power like this in a female, despite having been close to many. What Gifts she was hiding wasn't clear but whatever they were - new to the tribe or not - thrust her into position as Alpha female and by rights his mate.

He chose the course of patience, wishing to give her time to adjust, to accept him as an inevitability. She'd grown up with humans and perhaps required a certain degree of convention. He resolved himself to allow her this. After all, if he'd learned anything from his own parents, the strongest female would not accept her mate's words on principal alone.

He steadied his pulse and controlled his breathing. He softened his face, trying to look less intent not wishing to invoke fear, or even caution. He didn't move to touch her.

"You're right. Perhaps it would be best if we at least ate dinner together first."

It was a risky jest, he knew, wagering that she wasn't too modest for risque jokes. He found himself rather relieved when she let out a husky giggle and an amused smiled spread across her face.

"At the very least, noble Lord," she quipped.

"Kimber. Just call me Kimber."

"Kimber," she repeated deliberately letting it roll over her tongue.

It sent shivers through him. He wanted to return to her lips, her heavy lids and silky eyes inviting him without words. He knew though that she didn't trust him yet and he doubted she would give herself to him until she was sure what he was. It wouldn't be too much longer till the sun went down. What was a few hours of waiting anyways? Tonight she would fly by his side and take her place in his bed.