Post 4: Kidnapped

The air around her was cold. Crisp wind tendrils wrapped around her arms and chilled her to the bone. For some reason, it felt like winter time. Despite it being New York, she was sure it would be warm for a May night. Reaching blinding to pull the covers of the bed up over her bare shoulders, Adrian felt a shock of pain as the muscles of her right wrist stretched above her head. Opening her eyes would probably be a bad idea. She’d thought that last night was a dream and the only explanation for lying in a bed having both of her arms tied above her head is that it wasn’t. She knew what she’d find. She’d probably open her eyes to a dark and gloomy room, probably in someone’s basement. It actually smelled clean, though. At the feel of it, the bed was really comfortable but it could also just be worn. The walls would be empty and the furniture scarce. She’d seen enough of Criminal Minds to know when someone’s been kidnapped.


Opening her eyes anyway, Adrian gasped at the vast contrast the room had to her thoughts. High ceilings stretched gloriously to the sky. The walls were covered in what looked like 19th century tapestry. The dark colors reminded her of strength and masculinity. Although the room was neat it looked quite lived in. A man’s light brown jacket hung over the back of one claw footed chair and a pair of worn gym shoes sat neatly underneath it. Adrian couldn’t see any other sign that a man lived there, or anyone for that matter. The drawers were pushed in, their tops clean of any toiletries. The closet, she assumed it was a closet, was cracked open but from where she lay, she couldn’t tell if there were clothes hanging inside. Pushing at the ties on her wrist, Adrian pulled herself up in the bed just moments before realizing she was naked beneath the covers; it was no wonder she’d been freezing in her sleep. Confusion covered her. Did they mean to keep her as a sex slave?
“I will not be a sex slave to anyone.” Adrian huffed as she tried to shimmy back under the covers.


“No one said you were going to be.” A deep voice spoke from across the room. A handsome dark haired man sat in the chair that held the brown jacket.


“How? I just looked over there and I didn’t see you!” Adrian gasped.
“You didn’t see me because I told your mind you couldn’t. It’s one of my abilities.” The man stood and came over to the edge of the bed. Adrian flinched as he grabbed the sheet. She relaxed slowly as she realized he was just pulling it up over her breast to tuck it beneath her arms, covering her.


“You wouldn’t have to do that if you would just untie me and if you gave me my clothes.” Adrian’s voice sounded strong but she wanted to plead with the man to let her go. “And I don’t mean make me believe that I’ve been let go.” Hearing her words the man laughed at her.


“You catch on quick, Adrian. Don’t be afraid. We actually just want to protect ourselves, from you.” He sat on the edge of the bed where her feet were. She hadn’t noticed until he sat there that her feet had been bound together, perhaps to let her sleep more comfortably. “What you did to our transporter was…something none of us had ever experienced before.” He shook his head as he leaned forward to tuck the covers in around her legs. “You look cold.”


“Protection from me? What do you mean your transporter?” Adrian felt her body began to relax around the man. He seemed to be harmless but she wasn’t sure why. The events of the night before came crashing to her; the gaps in her memory startled her. She gasped aloud, startling him. “How did I get here?”


“Vectio transported you. You put Hunter to sleep and we weren’t sure if you’d poisoned him or what not so we had you transported to the dungeon. Waited for you to wake up, to tell us what you did.” The man stood up off the bed, remembering she couldn’t be trusted.


“I understand what you’re saying but at the same time I don’t. Is this your dungeon?”


“No. Tristan had him transport you up here when we returned to the safe house. He figured until we decided exactly how dangerous you are we’ll bring you up here, he said something about innocent until proven guilty.” His face scrunched as he said the last part. It was a human law, an American law that he didn’t quite agree with. If it were up to him, it’d be ‘guilty until proven innocent’ because he’d come to realize, being a warrior, they often were guilty anyway.


“Guilty of what? And why am I naked?” Adrian’s voice became strained as she tried to ignore the mention of Hunter, the man who tried to protect her the night before, she supposed. He’d made her feel weird things inside and she wasn’t at all sure why.


“Vectio can transport any one and anything to anyplace, it’s his ability. Well, he can transport almost everything. For some reason when he transported you here from the dungeon, your clothes didn’t come with you. I wonder why that is?” The man looked genuinely perplexed by the situation but shook his head as if it didn’t matter. “I’m positive that when he appeared here and realized you were naked he bundled you up in the sheets and tied you to the bed. He doesn’t talk much, that one, but for some reason he said more words to you, last night, than he’s said to all of us this past month.” The man laughed and sat back down on the bed.


“Who are you?” Adrian titled her head to the side as she’d listened to him ramble on. He seemed comfortable in his own skin with a really laid back personality. If she wasn’t tied to the bed and obviously a prisoner, she’d have thought he would make a great friend. His smile was inviting but on the other hand it set off a warning in her head. If he could convince her that she hadn’t seen him sitting in the chair, what else was he lying to her about? She took a quick look around the room wondering if there was anyone else standing there with them.


“My name is Mendax Andana, some call me Storyteller.” He smiled at her as her eyebrows drew together. “Basically, I’m a liar, it’s my ability, and I make up stories. Wordless stories. I can make you believe anything I want, make you see anything.” His face suddenly grew serious. “You can trust this as you see it, though. Here, in this room, I have left everything as it was except for the stunt earlier, when you didn’t notice me.” He turned to go after glancing at his watch and seeing the time. He had some business to take care of with Tristan and as interesting as it was to talk to the pretty prisoner, he had to leave. Just as he stepped towards the door he turned back to her, a stoic look covering his face.


“I am surprised you haven’t really asked me anything about the man you put to sleep.” Mendax was sure to tread carefully.
“Is he alright?” She spoke quietly, trying to keep the concern out of her voice. The man had made her melt on the inside, she felt towards him in a way she’d never felt towards any man. Just thinking of him changed her view on being kidnapped, maybe it wasn’t so bad. How this was, she couldn’t say but she felt a small amount of joy inside just thinking of his name and knowing he might be in this very house.


“Yes, he’s fine. Do you know what you did to him? How you did it? And the pain that you caused Vectio, how did you do that?” Her next words would be crucial. He was the storyteller and could tell when being lied to. He could almost sense the lie in his blood, see it in the eyes or even smell it in the words. Her next words would decide everything. They would be important as to tell them the next steps they were to take. He didn’t want to hurt her, especially since she was Hunter’s mate but he would to protect his team.


“No. I swear I have never done that before. I wouldn’t ever hurt anyone. Especially…” Hunter. His name hung at the end of the sentence even though she didn’t speak it. Her lips closed firmly and she averted her eyes. Mendax knew she felt the connection to Hunter just as he did to her and that it confused her just as Hunter was confused. What he didn’t know was that if she didn’t know exactly how she welded those powers, how did she get them?



"The only way to be a writer is to write, write and write. The only way...is to write." -Irma Jemison

Post 3: Mated

“Not so fast this time, little woman.” The growling voice of the man who’d held the knife to her throat was behind her again. This time his eyes averted hers and his stance was assertive. “If I were you, I’d take a deep breath.”

Tristan charged forward just as Vectio disappeared with the green eyed woman, Adrian. Who is she? How was she dropping his soldiers like flies? He knelt beside Hunter and touched his forehead. It was hot, like a fever, and covered in sweat.

“Hunter, rise.” He spoke but the warrior didn’t hear him. Leaning forward, Tristan waved a hand over Hunters open eyes and received no response. “Julius?” He looked back at the Healer that seemed to be staring at the air just above Hunter’s body.

“She covered him with her aura. Actually, I think it’s more like…their auras combined. I’ve only seen this once before.” Julius knelt on the other side of Hunter using his fingertips to lower his eyelids and placed a calming hand above his heart.

“Where?”

“The only other time I’ve seen an aura like this was on Senatus, with a mated pair. Can sometimes happen with a first touch, either physical or mental. This time it seems that the both were aligned.” Julius took a deep breath just before he drew a small amount of Hunter’s life source from his body to examine it. The wisp of air was dark, murky just as Adrian’s had been. If he’d remembered correctly, Hunter’s aura was usually an icy, water blue with the occasional sliver of silver just like his eyes. It’d been a long time since he’d had to heal the warrior but he was positive this wasn’t the normal shade the warrior usually carried on his shoulders.

“Mated? I thought Hunter was mated to an Ana Guile.” Mendax spoke from where he stood at Hunter’s feet watching Julius return the life source.

“Yes, somewhat, you’re a little young to remember her, I’m sure, but we all know she wasn’t actually mated to him. Why he agreed to that has been beyond us for centuries.” Tristan helped the men gather Hunter to his feet just as Vectio returned.

“What did I miss?” Vectio watched as they toggled Hunter between them. His eyes were still closed and his head rolled forward.

“Julius says Hunter is mated to Adrian.” Mendax laughed and passed Hunter into Vectio’s hands to transport. “You know! Once one of us goes down the rest of us follow. We’re all going down!” Vectio snorted; the only words they usually heard from him.

“I don’t plan to get mated any time soon.” Tristan shook his head and looked back at him. He was unbelieving of the whole mating process. He believed it was the Light Warriors’ way of controlling the universe. He was going to say when and with whom he was going to mate and get married and that was the end of it, especially if he had to spend the rest of eternity bouncing between planets with her.

“Well, I’m sure Hunter didn’t plan to find his real mate anytime soon either, or ever. That’s probably why he agreed to be mated with the Witch.” Mendax laughed even harder. He was the most light hearted of the group and for some reason found the predicament hilarious.

“Well, he at least didn’t plan that she’d be human either…if she is.” Tristan stated before disappearing with the rest of the men.

"The only way to be a writer is to write, write and write. The only way...is to write." -Irma Jemison

Car Accident Almost Prohibits New Posts

Hey guys!

I know I was supposed to post a new installment on Monday and another on Friday but I was in a car accident on Saturday. I haven't yet had a chance to rewrite, edit and upload the two new posts between then and now. I do plan to upload two more parts of Hunter but I have been a little out of it lately due to the pain and medicine I was given.

I will definitely upload as soon as my head is back on track and I finish the next cut piece. This can happen anywhere from the next few hours or the next couple of days but it will be done!

Thanks!!
:)


"The only way to be a writer is to write, write and write. The only way...is to write." -Irma Jemison

Post 2: Adrian

Although working for her was lucrative in being the first step in the door to a long career, Candice Tabakov was a pain in the rear end. First off, she had been one of the best authors with the best marketing strategies, about ten years ago. Secondly, she decided there was more money being behind the talent than actually being the talent and became an editor. She was inspiration for wannabe editors everywhere but to be her assistant was one of the worst jobs one could have. That is, unless you were really great at your job like Adrian was and could potentially become editor yourself one day. It still took the best grades in college, a pretty face and an ability to hold three cups of coffee in one hand, scribbling on a notepad in the other all the while talking on the phone with god knows who. That was Candice’s type of employee and Adrian excelled at it everyday. If Adrian didn’t actually like her job she would have quit long time ago but she was stuck in it for the long haul, since the moment she was picked for the position.

Adrian remembered the first day she met Candice. A group of English majors from NYCU been called in for a position as a receptionist at Tabakov and Associates almost a year ago. She’d been postgrad for almost three months and determined to find a job just about anywhere. About halfway through the interviewing process, before it was even Adrian’s turn, Candice had stopped on her way out and said she was hired.

“You…with the pretty eyes and the too long hair, you come.” For such a successful author her English seemed to be only so-so but Adrian had guessed that was what editor’s editors were for and ran after her. “You don’t have to run. I am merely walking.” The woman had said, matter of fact, despite the fast pace via her long legs. From that day forth she seemed to take an instant dislike to her and kept her constantly doing the menial jobs. Then one day Adrian sat at her desk outside of Candice’s office and heard the most important words of her career.

“I’m bored with this one; you may edit it and bring it back.” Candice had spoken softly as if she knew Adrian was listening intently. Luckily, Adrian did a great job on the project and was given the credit and recognition with the client. Since then Candice no longer barked beautifully, she spoke with respect. She respectfully asked Adrian to fetch her coffee.

Coming back to the present, Adrian sighed and narrowly missed the curb as she stepped down. She smiled softly, hoping no one saw her misstep, and wrapped her arms around her waist. Candice was gone to Aruba for an overdue vacation with the lead assistant Bernadette. She’d basically given her the summer off and paid up her rent so she wouldn’t feel “tempted” to find another job elsewhere. She’d merely smiled when Adrian exclaimed with joy but allowed herself to be hugged. Adrian knew Candice wasn’t the cold woman everyone thought she was; The Russian Queen, they called her.

A door opening on her right drew her attention to a small café. She’d walked further than she thought. Just as she began to turn around Adrian tilted her head to the side looking at the sign above the door. I’ve never even noticed this place here before. I wonder if it’s new, she thought. Stepping up to the glass, Adrian looked just inside the window and watched five men come to stand in a circle around two crouching men. One man on the ground looked frightened and had a black eye, his hair was disheveled and his clothes looked bloody. The other man on the ground was well groomed despite the slight unruliness of his shoulder length hair. He held a hand just above the injured man’s heart and seemed to be praying, his eyes closed. She watched as the praying man then looked up and locked eyes with the bloody man. It seemed like an eternity that they lay there, staring at each other.

As little as she knew what was going on, Adrian felt a sudden dip in her mood. She shook her head, as a distressing cloud seemed to fill her mind; a heavy weight dropped on her chest and labored her breathing. A seemingly dark mist surrounded the battered man. It was as if she could feel his soul blackening as a soft light poured from the prayer’s eyes. The two energies melted together, like a channel between the two men. She couldn’t turn away her eyes as she noticed the praying man’s body soften. Then, as if he lost all his strength, he hunched over. His shoulders fell forward and his head lolled all the while their eyes remained locked in the death stare. The feeling dissipated, instantly, as she saw one of the five standing men reach down and snap the injured man’s neck. The darkness left the lifeless body, whishing up and entered the standing man’s hands. He straightened and Adrian was instantly drawn to him, she sighed softly as his face turned slightly in her direction. She knew she should be frightened because he’d just murdered someone but for some reason that could wait, for just a few more seconds. She saw then, the praying man seemed to regain his strength. He stood, unstable, to his feet.

She then remembered she was out in the open, standing before the window and should anyone really look her way they’d spot her. Instantly taking a step back, Adrian stumbled against the wall until she reached the alley just to the side of the café. Her mind spun, shifting, emotions swirled and spiked. The thoughts jumbled inside her head and Adrian stood there, leaning against the wall for what seemed like years. Someone just got murdered, he just reached down and…and killed him; I can’t believe I just saw that. Should I call the police? I don’t know what to do. I mean, what CAN I do? They didn’t see me, right? I didn’t really see anything. I don’t even know what happened. I should just…

A scuffling sounded behind her, further into the alley, and Adrian froze. Unsure what to do, Adrian stumbled backwards, toward the street. Just as she stepped around the corner back toward the café, Adrian heard quick steps on the pavement. Eyes widening, Adrian gasped as a man, standing about 6’5, peeked around the corner. Throwing her hands up, Adrian jumped back, an odd tingling feeling coursed through her fingers. Just as a wave of adrenaline bursts through her body the man cringed in pain before disappearing. Seconds later, she sucked in her breath as warmth pressed against her from behind, he was pushing her back into the alleyway. She knew almost instantly when the knife came to her throat and closed her eyes.

“It’s…a woman.” Without opening her eyes, Adrian knew almost instantly the killer from the inside of the cafe had spoken. For some reason she felt relieved but didn’t dare relax as the knife was still pressed to her jugular. The next few moments went by in a confusing flash. Opening her eyes as the killer's voice sounded behind her, Adrian was shocked to see his own knife pressed against his friend’s throat as she was let go. She turned slowly until she faced him but still had the others in her sight, she wouldn’t dare turn her back on any of them. They all stood nearly as tall as the first man, intimidation dripping from their bodies. Looking up into his eyes, a windstorm blew through her mind jumbling her thoughts again. He stepped towards her, slowly. The closer he got the louder the storm rushed through her mind; the more the hairs on her arms stood at attention. She felt claustrophobic; he was crowding her space, her mind, pleasantly?

“You…killed that man. The man back in the café,” she spoke and stepped back again. She couldn’t hear anything else he said but watched his lips as they moved. He seemed to be trying to comfort her in some way but the rush in her mind had grown so loud she could only feel the words reverberate against her ears and the pleasure her body felt at receiving them. She felt comforted, slightly, though she couldn’t hear him.

“Come, I’m here to protect you.” She snorted. Yeah right! She looked behind him at the men standing at his back; most held long swords almost the length of their legs. They looked like warriors. Their hard eyes stared at her with intensity, mouths tight and hands touching the hilts of their swords. One, the prayer, stood with a perplexed look on his face. Another man, standing just left of the killer, leaned against the wall with his mouth in a crooked smile, almost uncaring; though his eyes still watched her. They seemed confused but didn’t look like they’d hurt her, maybe. Looking up, Adrian’s brows rose as she locked eyes with the killer. The rush in her mind died instantly.

“…Don’t worry, they will protect you too.” For some reason, Adrian believed him. This is definitely a dream! She knew it was real; there was no doubt that it was real. It’s definitely a dream, she thought as she reached out and took the hand the killer had extended. A shock of pleasure rolled through her body, like a wave of ultimate happiness, as they touched. It felt good, too good. Who is he? Could she really be reacting this way…to a murderer?

“Don’t be scared.” Vectio spoke with his palms out towards her; they were the first words he’d said all month. Did he just speak? Did he sound concerned? Technik’s voice sounded out again in their minds but rang playful this time.

“I shouldn’t be scared but you’re snapping necks and holding swords?” The woman seemed to be trying to gather courage but shifted her weight to hide behind Hunter’s crumpled body. For a strange reason, she couldn’t quite put her finger on, she felt safe around him. It was as if she knew he’d protect her no matter what.

“He wasn’t human and I have a strange feeling that neither are you.” The moment the words left Julius’ mouth he knew they were a mistake. If the women didn’t know about the otherworldly she did now. The look on the woman’s face seemed genuinely shocked but they weren’t usually this easily fooled. It was hard to tell if she was just playing with them or if she knew exactly what he meant when she dropped Hunters hand to cover her mouth. Her lips moved but no words came out.

Hunter frowned at his team and placed both hands on her shoulders. Instantly a feeling of happiness filled him. He couldn’t speak but continued to look down into her eyes. He’d believe anything she said if she’d touch him back. Hunter narrowed his eyes as her hands began to ascend towards his chest; it was as if she read his mind. Her hands settled against his breast and he felt a storm rage in his veins.

She gasped as his eyes suddenly rolled back and he crumpled to the cement before her. Hands stretched before her, Adrian looked incredulously at her fingers, gasped as the tips tingled and felt singed as if burned. She’d barely touched him before he went down. Did I hurt him? She bent beside him and went to touch his face. What had she done?

"The only way to be a writer is to write, write and write. The only way...is to write." -Irma Jemison

Post 1: Hunter

Hunter

It’d been a long time since he’d killed anyone. It’d been a while since he’d felt someone’s life source running through his veins. It’s not that he overly liked the feeling; he’d just been away from war, battle or just fighting for a long while. It was like he’d been taking a break. He wasn’t entirely prepared for the onslaught of joy that filled him when he took a life. His veins pulsed and his heart slowed a little. Maybe it was because it’d been almost a decade since his last reaping or maybe it was just that he’d never killed a Sprite before that he felt this way. A hand clamped down on his shoulder.

“Hunter, you enjoyed that way too much.” A deep voice spoke from behind brought a scowl to his face. The others had killed so recently that they wouldn’t mind stopping mid-fight, or at any time really, just to make fun of him like he was a child. Across from them Mendax Andana, their Storyteller, worked his ability on the few civilians that had been about to enter the small café. Hunter shook his head as Mendax winked at one of the women and sent her on her way with a finger wave. The place cleared slowly; the people walked like zombies, as Mendax controlled them.

“Well, it has been a while since I’ve killed. Don’t think I’m turning, I can control the Ascendance.” The Sprites’ powers still coursed through his veins, pulsing and vibrating until it settled in his blood cells. “We didn’t get the answers we wanted.” A grunt sounded beneath him as Julius hurled himself to his feet. His eyes were large, the life source the Sprite had tried to steal from him settled once again in his veins.

“Well, we know one thing. It’s the Malus; they have reached new lows. One must wonder, if they were able to persuade the elves to help them with their mysterious dark quest, who else have they convinced to their side.” His thick, European accent rolled from his tongue as he brushed the dust from his pants. He spoke in an odd rhythm. His speech was unlike any of the other warriors on the team, not necessarily in riddles but an odd discernment, oracle type form of obvious observation. “I tried to heal him but he was so filled with dark power that…there would have been no way. His spirit was already gone the moment he betrayed those who loved him. Where the mind has already deceived, the body is soon to follow. There is just…” Hunter clasped him on the shoulder and drew him in close.

“Julius, you can’t heal everyone. You have to be more careful. If I hadn’t snapped his neck he’d have taken your life source and wouldn’t have thought twice about it and you would be dead.” He pulled away and shuffled his feet. The frustration he felt from not getting answers couldn’t even compare to the sadness he knew Julius dealt with. It was the price of being a Healer, and also the price of being thousands of years old and still as vulnerable as a human. The man was strong in his own way but his gentle nature was, at times, his downfall. Julius turned away from him, his fingers on his chin, thinking to himself.

“Hunter…” Tristan began, his voice wary, but stopped when Hunter raised a hand.

“You have nothing to fear.” He shook off the well-placed worry and walked across the small establishment to the open door in the far corner. It was a decent place, its small booths and brightly colored counters gave a sense of happiness despite the dank dark town they’d seen just outside the doors. They’d never been to Lowly, a city just east of New York City. Here, the ratty buildings and dark alleyways seemed to second as a hideaway for junkies. The electrical pull of dark power was strong here; he could feel it in his veins. And yet, this small café filled with it's bright colors and homey trinkets stood out as a beacon of redemption for the entire area. Every ratty town has its glories, I guess, Hunter thought.

“Technik, report.” Tristan’s voice sounded out.

Hey guys, I’m sorry I couldn’t get much information for you. I…I sensed a lot of dark power resonating from that side of town but I’m not entirely sure where it went. Not all of it dissipated with the death of the Sprite. For some reason I have a feeling there is more hiding in that area than what we’ve discovered but without being there myself I can’t quite pin point where it's coming from. I’d think that any small place outside of New York City would be infested with the Malus but they seem to have gone; either to a different region or left the planet entirely. David (their Tech guy, favorably known as Technik) sat at home in his well-loved laboratory. He rarely left their home and instead spoke to them through the mental connection each of the dark warriors shared.

“Technik, can I get a little more back ground on this café? It seems an odd place for a Sprite with all that dark power to just hang out by himself.” Tristan, the Leader, spoke aloud and kicked the corner of a booth. Hunter watched him closely as the two mentally conversed about the establishment, the muscles of his arms flexed and tightened, whenever Tristan was in that mood it was best to steer clear. “We have been running around chasing our tails and I need answers, yesterday!” he yelled before leaving the cafe. Hunter moved quickly, exiting through the back door just behind Tristan.

Hanging back to make sure the café was secured, Hunter shut the door firmly behind the last warrior. Ahead of him, he heard a sharp breath intake. Immediately, he shifted his feet and his hand dropped to the hilt of his dagger. Silently following motions to stay back, he watched as Vectio crept to the edge of the alley before stepping out. His shoes were silent against the pavement as he ran forward to then lean against the wall. He rocked out on the balls of his feet to peer around the corner. The five warriors still crouched in the alley rushed forward as Vectio gasped aloud in pain. He transported just to the left and raised a hand, the light from the sun glinting off the blade clutched in his fingers. Hunter couldn’t breathe as he surveyed the scene. A glow, emitting from the person Vectio held his knife to, blinded him.

“It’s…a woman.” Hunter whispered as a thundering started in his chest. The want, no, the need to protect this woman filled his mind just seconds before he found himself behind Vectio holding his own blade against his comrade’s throat. “Step back, slowly.” His voice was raspy as the storm continued to rock his chest. Shock ran through the team at his defensive actions. The second Vectio let go of the woman; Hunter nudged him aside, softly. He turned fully towards her and sheathed his dagger. The team stepped up to him, flanking him, but he threw out his hand to stop their movement.

The woman standing before him was the most beautiful human he’d ever seen in his entire life. Her eyes were emerald green and looked up at him in fright. Her lips were full but tight as she stepped back, away from him.

Unable to sense the tension among the warriors, Technik spoke through their mental connection. Guys! The woman standing in front of you is Adrian Culvert. She’s an editor’s assistant in New York, just graduated from NYCU. She lives alone. Her only living relative appears to be her mother, Annalise Lumina who lives in Florida. The woman is harmless. Hunter felt Tristan’s disbelief and knew the rest of the team could also. Whatever she'd done to Vectio would not count her as harmless and they knew it. He studied the woman for a moment but didn’t speak despite her questioning gaze.

“You…killed that man. The man back in the café.” Her voice was shaky and angelic. She'd tilted her head up, as she spoke, as if to convince them she wasn’t scared; they weren't convinced. The wavering in her voice gave her away. Just the music of it bled into his soul as something he’d never felt before moved in his veins. Shaking his head to dispel the fog, Hunter stepped forward again but this time he reached out a hand.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m Chase Hunter; you don’t have to be afraid.” Even without the persuasive powers of Mendax, the woman seemed to be relieved when she heard his voice. She sighed just before tensing again and leaned back against the alley wall. “Come, I’m here to protect you.” The woman snorted in disbelief and Hunter had to laugh. Even making a disgruntled face the woman was gorgeous, her small nose scrunched up and her mouth skewered. Her eyes flickered to the five tall men standing just behind him in curiosity. “Don’t worry, they will protect you too.” He ignored the mental warning shot at him from Tristan.

Holding his hand out once more, Hunter was filled with a zinging pleasure as she placed her own palm softly into his. It was different from the pleasure one got from taking a life; this one was relaxing, nurturing. Who was this woman and what was she doing to him? Was she even human?

"The only way to be a writer is to write, write and write. The only way...is to write." -Irma Jemison