Cats and Dogs

[Marissa]

((Originally posted on DM in March 2016.))

Like most cats, Marissa was an early riser, up before Emrys, bathed and dressed for the day in a clean pair of jeans and an over sized black sweater, a pair of boots on her feet. She had already stoked the fire, careful not to step on his sleeping, snoring form, and the cabin smelled of bacon frying and something else - something unfamiliar he might not recognize but that she knew as coffee.

Out in the woods, he had been such a light sleeper that even the sound of her tiger's footsteps had been enough to wake him. In here, wrapped in the promise of safe shelter and the relaxants she had dosed him with, Emrys slept deeply, barely stirring as Marissa went about her morning routine. His face was less guarded, less resigned, in sleep; more youthful than he seemed at first with his head of long dark hair and his scruffy beard. He was, as he had told her, completely at her mercy, having given himself entirely into her hands while he was there. As the aroma of bacon and some bitter curiosity touched his nose, he sniffed, his hand twitching against the blanket, and abruptly came awake, his eyes snapping open to look around in alarm as he tried to remember where he was and how he had got there.

She had paused only briefly to scrutinize his face, noticing he looked younger when he was sleeping than when he was awake, the anxious lines of worry nearly disappearing in his sleep. She wasn't sure how old he was exactly, but she didn't think he was much older than her. She seemed to sense his awakening without so much as a glance over her shoulder as she went about cooking their breakfast in the kitchen area nearby. "Good morning, Sunshine. Sleep well?"

"Like a dog dreaming of bones," he told her, raising a hand to rub his eyes before he pushed himself to sit upright. A faint groan betrayed that moving like that was painful still, but there was no stiffness a human might expect. It was just an annoyance now. Rubbing a hand through his hair, he looked up at Marissa, making no attempt to stop himself from admiring her shapely backside before remembering himself. "I take it my virtue survived the night intact?"

"I think I can do a little better than that," she remarked with a smile he couldn't see since she had her back turned to him. She was hoping he found the smell of her cooking pleasing. It was far better than dog bones, anyway. "You are a temptation, but somehow I managed to resist," she replied, teasing evident in her tone of voice, even if he didn't see the smirk upon her face.

Emrys chuckled at her teasing, glad that some sleep seemed to have eased the contention from their interactions. "Perhaps I should maintain my distinct aroma, so you don't lose all control and take advantage of me," he laughed, easing himself up onto his feet to roll up the blanket and pelt and set them aside by his pack. "Do you have a privy, or a particular place you'd rather I did my morning necessary?"

"You seem rather eager to have me force myself upon you," she teased back as she turned sideways to flip the bacon, eyeing him across the room. "So long as you can aim, you're welcome to use the bathroom," she replied to his question, gesturing with a wave of one hand toward the door she had disappeared into the previous night. "A bath can wait until later. Breakfast is almost ready," she added, for good measure.

"You're the one who promised not to take advantage of me," he pointed out in amusement, stretching where he stood. "Cats and baths ... it's almost obscene how fastidious you felines can be." He grinned at her on his way past to the door she had indicated, and given that there were no exclamations or requests for help, it was safe to assume that, despite his lack of knowledge regarding coffee, he did know what an indoor bathroom was and how it worked.

"At least, we don't announce our arrival with our stench," she countered, mostly to herself as he disappeared into the bathroom. She listened for a moment, relieved he hadn't called for her help. The last thing she wanted to do was invade his privacy while he was doing his business. She hoped he didn't miss the toilet, or he'd find himself scrubbing the floor later.

The sound of the flush was reassuring, at least. He reappeared a few minutes later, looking a lot more awake, water dripping off his beard. "Can I do anything to help?" he asked her hopefully. "Anything that needs fixing around here, or wood needing chopping? You know, manly tasks I can really work up a stench with?"

"Just stay out of the way and don't over-exert yourself, Tarzan. You're not out of the woods yet," she replied, in a strange mood this morning, but then it wasn't often she had a guest, if that was what he was. "Washing your hands would be a good start," she added with another smirk. "How do you like your eggs besides cooked?"

"I did wash my hands!" he protested laughingly, even going so far as to show them to her. They were decidedly cleaner than they had been last night, that was for sure, if not perfectly scrubbed. "However they come," he told her regarding the eggs. "I've not had eggs for a few months. No one's been willing to trade them."

"Trade," she echoed with a small frown, as if just remembering shelter and a warm meal were probably a treat for him, not to mention the company. "Eggs are a cheap commodity in the city. They sell for practically nothing," she told him, wondering why he insisted on keeping himself so secluded, even when it wasn't a full moon. "Coffee?" she asked, pouring him a cup, before he had a chance to reply. "How long have you been here?"

"I don't go into the city," he told her honestly, doing as he was told and keeping out of the way by claiming a chair at the table. He took the cup she offered him, sniffing at it curiously as he had done the tea last evening. "Coffee ... I know the smell, can't say I've ever tasted it." Her query confused him for a moment as he sipped the bitter beverage, just about managing not to grimace at the taste. "That is certainly ... distinctive. How long have I been here? Oh, about twelve hours, at a guess."

"Some people like to add milk or sugar to sweeten it, like tea," she explained, in case he wanted to try it that way. She narrowed her eyes at him at the response to her question, assuming he was taking her literally. "Not here. Rhy'Din," she said, turning away to slide the eggs onto plates that already held bacon and toast.

"Oh." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Close onto ten years. The pack didn't want to send me to my death, so they waited until I was old enough to fend for myself. I was, oh ... sixteen, seventeen when I arrived here." His nose twitched as he watched her serving out the food; it was a better meal than any he'd had since the last time he'd been invited to stay at a trader's home.

She set his plate on the table near him before going to fetch the sugar and milk, in case he found the coffee too bitter the way it was. It was an acquired taste, to be sure, but one she thought he might appreciate. "And you've lived in the wilds all that time?" she asked curiously. It wasn't the kind of life most people on Rhy'Din preferred, native or not. Even she had a cabin to retreat to when she was feeling stifled in the city.

"I have no home," he told her with a faint shrug, trying to be patient and not devour the contents of his plate in the time it took for her to sit down. "I make do. I live off the land; I trade furs for the things I need, and occasionally a trader in one of the villages will take pity on me and invite me home for one night. Took me a while to realize that a few of them were doing it in hopes that their daughters might be able to persuade me to marry them, but I avoid those houses now."

She didn't need to ask why. It was obvious he feared what might happen if he lost his mind during a full moon and tore his own family to pieces. "I think you do yourself a disservice. There are solutions to such problems you have not even considered, or may not even be aware of because you choose to sequester yourself from the world," she said, though she didn't want to judge him. She took a sip of her own coffee as she took a seat at the table, noticing how he seemed to be struggling to hold himself back. "Eat all you want. There's more where that came from."

[Marissa]

At least he was vaguely aware of table manners, taking up the knife and fork to begin shoveling food into his mouth as though it might be snatched away from him at any moment. "I don't believe it is a problem that can be solved," he managed through his mouthfuls. "I am what I am, a defective wolf. How can that possibly be corrected?"

"You are no more defective than I am," she replied, dropping a hint that they might have more in common than either of them could have predicted. She sighed as she turned her attention to her own breakfast, unsure how much she wanted to tell him. She wanted to trust him, but how much did she know about him really? She didn't think he was lying. He had no reason to lie, unless he had been sent here to hurt her.

"I am the result of too much inbreeding among a small pack," he told her, washing down his breakfast with a mouthful of coffee. It was an acquired taste, yes, but right now, it was just handy. "And you do not seem in any way defective to me, Marissa. Unusual, perhaps, but that is not a bad thing."

"Things are not always what they seem, Emrys," she told him, reluctant to share her own story just yet, a little surprised he was so willing to share his; and yet, he had risked his own life to defend her against the kind of hunters who wouldn't have thought twice about killing her.

"The world would be a dull place indeed if we were all exactly as we seem," he chuckled, finally slowing in his eating now he seemed to have convinced himself that she wasn't going to change her mind and run him out of the cabin. "But for all the bad, there is a lot of good. I have had more kindness from strangers than cruelty. Your own kindness is more than I deserve. I meant what I said last night. With your leave, I will empty and remove my traps this morning, and not hunt on your land again. I did not mean to trespass, and I will not do it willingly."

Like a cat, she picked at her breakfast, eating a little of this and a little of that, her appetite momentarily spoiled by the topic of conversation. "I am not concerned about your traps, except that I do not wish others like myself to fall prey to such things. There are a few others like myself who hunt in these woods. I try to keep them safe for those of our kind," she told him, making a point to include him as one like her. Though he was a wolf and not a cat, it made little different to her.

"I understand that," he nodded. "My traps are not made for large prey, nor do they cause harm or death. I trap rabbit and mink - enough to feed myself, and their fur is a commodity people are prepared to pay for. I grew up among weres, Marissa. I would never intentionally cause harm."

"Then you are free to leave your traps where they are, for now," she told him, though she was not expecting him to stay long. He was likely to move on, as soon as he was healed. A few days, at most. "Have you never considered a different way of life? It must grow tiresome moving from place to place." She ought to know - she'd been a drifter herself, once upon a time.

"Well, they need checking. Anything caught in them is easy prey for predators." He did not just live off the land; he lived with the land. Her question made him smile wistfully. "It is a dream, to have a home," he admitted. "But where could I go that I would not be a danger? How could I keep people from stumbling across me during my dangerous night? It is safer for the world if I keep on the move, no matter how weary I am of this life."

"What if I told you there was a way to fix the defective gene in your DNA?" she asked. Though she knew very little of such things, this was Rhy'Din, and anything was possible, if not with the help of healers and mages, then with technology. She was proof such things were possible, though she had not shared that with him just yet.

He paused, looking at her as though she had grown a second head. "The ... what in my what?" he asked, trying not to sound like a complete idiot. His lifestyle was more medieval than futuristic, no matter how many basic conveniences he had a passing understanding of. "I don't understand."

"The defect that causes your mind to shift, but not your body," she explained further, trying to put it into terms he could understand. "There might be a way to fix it," she said leaning toward him, one hand outstretched as she spoke before remembering herself and pulling back. "I understand if you are wary. I would be wary, too."

He considered her for a moment, aware that she had almost touched him but apparently thought the better of it. "I am not a very educated man," he admitted reluctantly. "Marissa, I cannot read or write. What numbers I know can be done in my head. I know how to live off the land, to live with my hands and my heart. Technology - anything beyond that bathroom through there, or the ovens I have seen others using - it is beyond me to comprehend, much less understand. And I have never yet met a wizard who was trustworthy."

"Reading and writing can be taught to a mind that is intelligent and willing to learn," she argued, though it wasn't completely necessary. A thought came to her and she smiled suddenly. "I have a friend who is happy to be a simple farmer. All his life he dreamed of breeding horses. It was only coming here to Rhy'Din that made that dream possible. Don't you have a dream, Emrys? Something you'd like to do more than anything else?" If he admitted he was happy in the life he was living, she would leave it at that, but she had a feeling he longed for something more than mere survival.

Emrys smiled, conceding that she had a point there. "I am happy for your friend," he acknowledged quietly. "And I would be lying if I said I was content in my life. Everyone I have ever met has had the one thing that I will never have - a home. I was rejected by my pack; any human I grow close to will die if they meet me at the wrong time; any wolf or wild creature will kill me, and rightly so. I have wandered for ten years. My dream would be to put down roots; to have a home. For anyone I might love to be safe."

"Then let me try to help you," she found herself saying before she could take the words back, finding herself aching for him and wanting to help if she could. She wasn't afraid of the wolf in him, understanding it the way she did. She reached out to touch his hand before remembering herself, her expression hopeful.

It was not in Emrys to be so open so quickly, but then, he had never met anyone who listened as though what he had to say meant something beyond simply words to fill a silence. Yes, she was beautiful, but he wasn't interested in her beauty. It was her sadness that intrigued him; her willingness to help a complete stranger she might never have run across if he hadn't been trespassing on her land in the first place. He spotted the reach of her hand, turning his until his palm lay open to her in invitation. "On one condition," he told her quietly. "That you allow me to help you, in whatever manner you see fit. I am not too proud to deny when I need help, though I would never ask for it. I think you are very much the same."

She had helped others before him, though their problems had been significantly different from his. There was something inside her that drove her to help those who seemed like hopeless causes - those like him and herself - as well as those she cared for. She smiled as he opened his hand to her, and she settled her palm against his, a little amused at his offer to help her in return. "We have dishes to do and three bodies to dispose of, for starters, but you aren't doing anything until that wound is healed."

His fingertips stroked against her inner wrist, surprised that she had taken the invitation, and touched by it, too. "How, exactly, do you plan to prevent me from doing anything for the next day?" he asked with a faint grin. "Am I supposed to curl up with my nose on my bottom like a good dog for the next few hours?"

"I will sit on you, if I have to, but I thought you might start with a bath," she suggested, that smirk of amusement tugging at her lips again. The predators and scavengers would take care of the corpses for now, just as they were designed to do. "And I did not say you should do nothing, but if you try to do too much, that wound will open up again," she reminded him, tugging her hand away so that she could finish her breakfast. "Still hungry?"

[Marissa]

Releasing her hand, Emrys smirked right back at her. "I've eaten my fill," he promised her. It was a bit of a lie, but even he knew that stuffing himself so full of good food that he couldn't walk would be worse for him than going a little bit hungry for a little while. "I should wash my clothing before I try to wash myself," he admitted. "I've nothing truly clean, and a few bits to mend. Would it offend your delicate nose too much to put up with my smell a little while longer?" He grinned. "It's your choice ... a few more hours of smell, or me wandering around your cabin naked as the day I was born while everything I own dries off."

"You barely touched your coffee. I think I'm insulted," she teased. Strangely, despite the circumstances of their meeting, she couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much reason to smile. His teasing actually made her laugh, for the first time in a very long time. "I think I might be able to help you there," she said as she slid off the chair and went to a chest to rummage for a thing or three. "I saved a few things of my father's. I think you might be just about his size." Not to mention his breed. She was talking about her birth father, not the man who had raised her.

"Damn, you really want me to wash, don't you?" Emrys laughed, rolling his eyes at her instant solution to the problem. Easing back from the table, he rose, inspecting what was left in his coffee cup. "This coffee stuff ... it's bitter, but invigorating. How do you drink it?"

"Real men drink it black, or so I'm told, but since I'm not a man, I prefer a little milk and sugar," she replied, lifting her head to look over at him from where she crouched near the chest. "Have a sip," she invited him, with a nod of her head to her own cup on the table before going back to rummaging through the chest for a few articles of clothing that might hold him over until he had cleaned and patched his own - or she'd taken him to the city to buy more, whichever came first.

"Well, I'm not exactly a real man," he chuckled, investigating her cup curiously. It smelled different to his own cup. Raising it, he took a cautious sip, surprised by how much better that tasted. "I prefer that," he admitted almost reluctantly. He put the cup back down, tilting his head to watch her as she rummaged. "I realize this is a very personal question to ask, but ... do you live here all alone?"

"No? Is there something I should know that you haven't told me?" she asked, with a pointed look at his pants. He looked like a man to her, even if he had the mind of a beast come time for a full moon or two. Thankfully, her face was turned away from him when he asked that question or he might have seen a small frown form on her face again, a little bit sad. "I told you ... tigers are solitary creatures," she said by way of explanation.

He glanced down at his pants as she looked that way, and snorted with laughter. "You are safe, I promise you," he assured her. "Though it may have a mind of its own, I do, and I would never presume. While yes, you are an incredibly attractive woman, I would be horrified with myself if I repaid your kindness with violence."

"That is not what I meant," she said as he completely missed her meaning, but no matter. Her mood had turned again at his question, but she tried not to show it, moving to her feet to set a pair of pants and a slightly moth-eaten sweater on the bed, along with a shirt, a scarf, and a worn leather jacket. She clung to the jacket a little longer than necessary, as if she was reluctant to share it.

He noted how reluctant her hands were to leave the jacket, mentally choosing not to wear it. "It must be difficult, to be alone when you have a home," he commented, sensing the turn in her mood but offering her an opportunity to speak to him, if she so wished to. He had shared more with her than with anyone.

"It's not difficult," she replied, still clinging to that jacket, as if it was as dear to her as the person who'd worn it. "It's lonely," she admitted, turning to close the chest. "I'll run you a bath," she said, changing the subject.

"Marissa ..." He reached out, his fingertips brushing her sleeve to prevent her from escaping from him. Dark green eyes found hers, open and honest. "I know loneliness. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. With your permission, I could live my life in these woods, close but far. Never intruding on your solitude, but here, if you need me."

"If I need you," she echoed, touched by his offer, remembering an offer made by someone else long ago - but that was another Marissa and another time and place, the memories mingling with her own, until sometimes it was hard to tell them apart. "I would never ask you to surrender your freedom for me, but I would like to help, if I can," she admitted, turning to face him before dropping her gaze almost shyly.

"You didn't ask; I offered," he smiled at her, charmed by the shy way she dropped her gaze. "Of course, if I were less of a gentleman, I would have offered to move into your home here, and then into your bed, but I thought that might be a little too forward for a man who doesn't even smell appealing to you yet." He gently chucked her chin, encouraging her eyes to rise to his, and winked at her. "Keep the jacket, kitten. My coat only needs mending, not cleaning."

She lifted her chin to meet his gaze if only for a moment, unsure why he was having such an odd effect on her when they had only just met. Was she really that desperate for companionship or was there something more going on between them? "Yet," she echoed, her self-assured teasing back in place again. "Don't be so sure of yourself, wolf. You haven't had a bath yet." She pulled away from him to escape to the relative safety of the bathroom, taking that jacket with her.

"And despite it all, you're still insisting on stripping me down to nothing in the privacy of your bathroom," he teased her, his laugh making certain that the words had no sting in them at all. He paused to remove his boots, setting them down by his pack at the door before collecting the armful of clothing she had laid out for him and following her to the bathroom. "I might feel flattered if it wasn't for the continued insistence that I smell worse than a skunk's rear end."

"I take it you've smelled a skunk's rear end then," she remarked, hearing his voice following her toward the bathroom. She had no intention of stripping him or bathing him, when he was perfectly capable of doing so himself. By the time he got there, hot water was running in the tub and she was gathering a fresh wash cloth and towel, as well as some bath things she thought he might find useful - a scrubbing brush, for one thing. It was going to take a lot more than mere soap and water to get him clean. He might not like the scents he had to choose from, as most of them might prove a little too feminine for his tastes, but beggars couldn't be choosers. She'd hung her father's coat against the back of the door for now, having made a mental note to put it someplace safe.

"Intimately, to my shame," he admitted with a low chuckle, leaning against the wall outside the bathroom. He didn't want to crowd her, or make her feel cornered. There was something about this sweet, sad woman that called to him, something that had urged him to break the habit of a lifetime and offer her his friendship. He didn't want to ruin that before it found a place to nest. "I made the mistake of trying to shoo one away a few years back. I think it took most of the year to get the smell out of my clothes."

"Not much of a demand for skunk furs?" she teased further, crossing her arms against her chest as she regarded him, amusement sparkling in her chestnut brown eyes. She laughed at his explanation, lucky enough to have never had such an encounter as that. "That would explain the reek. The smell doesn't come out. You only get used to it."

He narrowed his eyes at her laughter, but he was smiling along with her. "Oh, the fur sold just fine," he shrugged. "I just couldn't get anyone to come within twenty feet of me for half a year." He made no comment on his "reek", as she put it, though he was rather pleased she was comfortable enough to tease him about it. "I didn't think I still smelled of it. Should I come closer so you can make sure?"

She was teasing, of course, or half teasing. Cats had a reputation for being fastidiously clean, and she was no exception, extending an arm to hold him at bay if he made good on his threat. "Only if you wish to find out for yourself if my claws are sharp enough," she warned, eyes flashing a warning, as if she was more than a little afraid of him for some reason, despite knowing he was only teasing her. She suddenly felt backed into a corner, with nowhere to go, the bathroom too small to maneuver to her liking should he choose to take advantage.

[Marissa]

To his credit, he hadn't moved so much as a muscle, not even blocking the doorway from where he leaned against the wall outside the room. He was glad he had not followed her into the room when he saw that slight stiffening that betrayed an animal caught in a corner with nowhere to run. "Easy, kitten, what kind of girl do you take me for?" he asked her with another gentle tease. "Scoot, it's time I washed myself before you try to do it for me."

"Girl?" she echoed again, assuming he was trying to put her at east with a joke. "I will be extremely disappointed if there's a female hiding under all that hair," she blurted without thinking. "Get over yourself, wolf," she told him, shoving the towel and washcloth at him, sidestepping around him to exit the bathroom. "I've met dogs who smelled better than you," she told him, patting his cheek before moving past him to let him have his bath in peace.

"You still petted me, though," he called after her with a chuckle, though somewhere inside him he felt a thrill at her unexpected implication that she was attracted to him. Grinning to himself, he closed and locked the door, and turned to the task of washing himself and making himself at least more acceptable for company.

She had even left him with a razor, but it was a woman's razor and not likely to be much good in his case. Outside the bathroom, she drew a deep breath, almost as if she was relieved he was finally hidden behind a locked door. She wasn't sure what it was about him that was affecting her in such a way. Was it only loneliness and the craving for companionship or was it something more? She hadn't felt attracted to a man in years, purposely keeping herself at a distance. She lingered near the door for a moment, hearing him turn the lock and wondering what he feared from her, before moving back to the kitchen to clean up from breakfast.

In deference to his companion's sensitive nose - or perhaps because he wanted to make a good impression on her - Emrys was in the bathroom for a good hour or more. His activities were punctuated by the sound of splashing for the first hour, but suspiciously quiet for the time that followed. Well, all but one squeak of wet foot on floor and the corresponding thump and curse of him bouncing off the wall and landing on said floor. And, of course, she got to hear the small squeal that erupted from him when he ripped the wet bandage off his skin, taking a decent strip of chest hair with it.

Still, his efforts were revealed before two hours had passed when he opened the bathroom door again. The man who had gone in might as well have changed entirely into a new man. The patched shirt and leather trews had been replaced with the decidedly more modern shirt and jeans; the long hair had been cut ruthlessly until it curled damply atop his head; even his beard had been trimmed down to nothing more than scruff. Barefoot, Emrys edged back into sight, surprised by how nervous he was feeling. After all, he hadn't done all that for Marissa, had he? It came as quite a shock when the answer to that question came back as yes.

Her hearing was such that she couldn't help snickering when she heard him squeal, presuming he had chosen that moment to rip the bandage off his chest. The thump gave her a start, but he seemed to have recovered his footing quickly enough. By the time he stepped out of the bathroom, she had cleaned up the kitchen, stoked the fire, and fetched some vegetables from the dry cellar to make a stew for dinner. The cabin, as secluded as it was, held a few modern comforts, but no radio, no television, nothing that he might find too strange, save for a cellphone that was currently tucked out of sight and out of mind. She was humming quietly to herself when he stepped out of the bathroom, busily drying and putting away dishes. It wasn't her fault she dropped a plate, smashing it to smithereens when she got her first look at the new him - it was entirely his.

He winced as the plate smashed. "Uh ... Let me put my boots on, and I'll clean that up," he offered, moving to where his boots were stood by the door. "I was going to ask you if you had a broom and pan - I need to tidy up in your bathroom a little, too."

"No, it's all right," she interjected, holding up a hand once again to indicate she didn't need his help. "I just ... I wasn't expecting ..." She trailed off at a loss for words, it seemed. She wasn't really surprised to find a handsome face beneath all that overgrown hair and beard. She had looked into his eyes and almost seen into his soul, but she had not been prepared for him to clean up so nicely, presumably for her. She had left him a scissors and comb and razor, but she had not really expected him to use them. "Sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me."

Tugging his boots on, he smiled at her flustered response. "Should I have left the hair as it was?" he asked, amused and flattered by her reaction. "Were you growing attached to the wild man in your bathtub?" Moving back toward her, he reached for the broom standing in the corner. "Speaking of the bathtub ... how is the smell? I'm afraid I couldn't face using the flowery soap, but that carbolic stuff is bracing."

She looked suddenly terrified as he came closer, backing into said corner and alarmed to find she had trapped herself once again. "No, it's, uh ... fine. You smell fine," she muttered, giving him no response to the question about the wild man who'd entered her bathroom and come out looking surprisingly civilized.

"Relax, kitten." He stopped where he was - not crowding her, but not feet away, either. "Look at me." He didn't touch her, trusting her to do as he asked before he went on. "You invited me into your home. You have shown me nothing but kindness. And as much as I want to kiss you, you are afraid of me. There are rules about that sort of thing. I will never intentionally harm you." He let that sink in for a moment. "Now ... I'm just going to fetch that broom. Don't scratch me for coming too close."

She was afraid of him, it was true, though she wasn't sure why. Maybe it wasn't him she was afraid of so much as it was what might happen if she let herself get too attached to him. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't let herself feel anything for anyone in so long she'd forgotten how. Maybe it was simply that so many of those she had loved over the years had been lost that made her keep her distance, but whatever it was, it didn't stop her from lifting her gaze and meeting his, as much as it made her heart pound with fear. She hadn't been afraid the night before when she'd faced the hunters, ready to put herself in harm's way to drive them from her land, and yet just looking at this gentle giant of a man terrified her. She stood very still, heart pounding, almost wishing he'd kiss her, but terrified that he would.

He might have spent a decade without much in the way of human company, but Emrys knew a lot about wild things. With Marissa standing so very still, he knew she was testing herself as much as him, slowly easing closer until he stood directly in front of her. With a gentle lean, he reached for the broom behind her left shoulder, his breath just barely warming her temple briefly before he claimed it. And he didn't linger to make her feel uncomfortable; he simply stepped back a few paces. With the broom in hand, he saluted her with a smile. "I'll tidy the bathroom and come back for this mess," he promised her, nodding politely before slipping out of sight once more.

And what did she do as soon as he was out of sight? What did most wounded, terrified, wild animals do but flee? She quickly found the door, stepping out into the cold, morning air and gulping a few breaths to calm her nerves. Her thoughts raced inside her brain, as fast as her pulse. She remembered someone else. It seemed like a long time ago. He had kissed her, too ... done more than kiss her, but he was gone now, nothing more than a memory in a life that wasn't even really hers. Why couldn't life be simple? Why did it have to be so confusing? But she didn't go any further than the porch, settling herself on the stairs and curling her arms about herself to keep warm. Surprisingly, she hadn't surrendered herself to the tiger, though the urge had been strong. Maybe there was hope for her yet.

And Emrys let her be for a long while, knowing he had pushed her to her limit, that his presence had caused that attack of fear. He tidied the bathroom, the kitchen; put his clothing in the bathtub and washed it clean of blood; hung it to dry where he hoped it would be most out of the way. And then he investigated the kitchen. When, eventually, he came onto the porch, it was with a blanket for her to keep warm with, and a cup of coffee hopefully the way she liked it, both of which he set down beside her. "I'm going to collect my traps," he told her quietly. "I will not be long, unless you would prefer me not to come back."

Lost in thought, it was his voice that pulled her back to reality, and she looked up to find him standing there beside her, a blanket and a cup of coffee in his hand - for her. How long had it been since anyone had bothered doing anything for her? Since she had let anyone do anything for her? "No," she told him quietly, patting the spot beside her. They were both wild things, and it occurred to her that of everyone she had ever known and ever cared for, there was a small chance he just might understand her best. "Please. The traps can wait." It was the only pleading she'd offer, leaving the choice up to him.

Emrys hesitated, uncertain of himself. He knew that with a wild animal, he would offer the food or treat, and make himself busy not too far away to draw them out. With a person - a person he realized he actually cared about a little - he was at a loss. But she gave him a clue. "All right," he agreed in his quiet way, easing himself down to sit beside her on the porch steps, not too close and not too far away.

[Marissa]

It was her turn, she thought, to thank him and to explain a little of what made her tick, but even that frightened her. It meant opening herself up a little and taking a chance, and that was something she had not done in a very long time. "I probably should have said this sooner, but thank you," she started, wrapping her hands around the warm cup of coffee and taking a sip, grateful for the blanket and his companionship. She was not only thanking him for that, but for helping her the night before. Deep down, she knew there was a good chance she'd be dead by now if not for him.

"You're welcome." He wasn't entirely sure what he was being thanked for, but thought that accepting that thanks gracefully was probably what she needed. There was a peculiar quality to his silence, though; it invited her to speak, if she wanted to, promising that he would not judge her harshly for anything she chose to say. It was all he could give her. This comforting thing would have been a lot easier if he hadn't been convinced that she would probably shift and rip his head off if he tried to wrap an arm around her.

She wouldn't. In fact, she'd probably welcome that embrace, but he couldn't very well know that, and she didn't know how to tell him. Somehow, things had seemed easier when they were still strangers, but nothing worthwhile ever came easy, did it? She drew a deep breath before to gather her courage, thinking it best to start at the beginning. "I'm a half-breed. A hybrid. There are those who consider me an abomination," she started, hoping he would understand her reluctance to share her story if he knew the truth of it.

"Those who do are wrong," he said quietly, clasping his hands between his knees for something to do with them. "There is nothing abominable about you. As you said before, it is a word only the ignorant and fearful use to justify their poor behavior." He inched a little closer, testing the waters to see if she really was a few steps from shifting or not.

"Yes, but don't you see?" she said, turning to face him, a haunted look in her eyes. "It's why I was in the woods last night. There are people ..." She paused a moment as if that wasn't quite the word she was looking for. "Hunters and Lycans ... who would like to see me dead because of what I am. I sensed what you are. I knew you were Lycan, but I didn't know if you were one of them or not. And letting someone - anyone - get close? It's dangerous for them and for me."

"Easy ..." Without thinking, Emrys lifted the blanket to wrap it about her shoulders, letting his arm linger around her. "Not every hunter wants you dead. Not every Lycan would happily see your blood spilled. I am both, and I would not raise a hand to harm you. I did not when you woke me. I killed to protect you, not because you are rare or precious or different. Because something in you calls to something in me. Because you needed someone to stand with you. We are alike in many ways, Marissa."

She made no move to shrug him off, grateful for both the blanket and his embrace, even if she had shied from it a short time ago, nor did she look about to bolt again or shift out of fear or anxiety. She met his gaze without flinching or looking away, sensing the honesty and rightness of his words. It had been a long time since she'd let anyone get this close to her, but she'd meant what she'd said about him, and she hoped she wasn't being a fool in trusting him. "As alike as we are different," she replied quietly, taking a chance and tucking herself into his embrace.

"I would learn all about you, if you would let me," he said softly, seeming to be addressing his words to the trees in front of them as she leaned into him, letting him wrap his arm snug about her shoulders and hold her there. "I would learn your strengths, and how to soothe you when you are wild. I would learn how to care for you in a way that would let you keep your wildness for when you most need it. If all you ever wish from me is friendship, I will gladly give it, kitten. No one should live their life alone, through a sad belief that anyone and everyone wants them dead."

"Not everyone," she said quietly, closing her eyes and letting his voice and his warmth soothe and calm her troubled spirit. She had a few friends, after all, and those who were like family, but no one to share her life with. Oh, there had been a few who'd tried to fill the role, but for one reason or another, none of them had ever worked out. She knew he was waiting for an answer from her, but she was not so good at pretty words and promises she wasn't sure she could keep. They had only just met, and it was a lot to ask from someone who was used to being alone, but his words touched her heart and gave her hope. "I would welcome your friendship, Emrys, but friendship is all I can give you for now." Even if deep down, she wanted to give him more, she had lost too many loved ones and couldn't bear the thought of losing another.

He smiled faintly, his hand gentle as he squeezed her shoulder. "Then I won't ask you for more," he promised her softly. No, he wouldn't ask, but he would hope for it. Though they had only just met, there was some connection between them that he was not foolish enough to deny. "What I will do is ask for shelter on nights when it is not safe to sleep in the wild; I'll bring you meat for your cooking, fur to trim your cloak with; I'll offer you companionship without the need to fear turning it down. With your leave, I will call your woods my home, and be gone from them only three nights in a moon."

"It is never safe to sleep in the wild," she told him, considering his offer for a long moment before countering it with an offer of her own. "I do not like the idea of you sleeping in the cold when there is room enough for you here. My mother and father once shared this cabin, and now I would share it with you. As for the full moon, we will find a solution to that, too."

"I would be happier to leave your land, rather than risk causing you harm at such a time," he pointed out to her quietly. "But perhaps chaining me in place would serve the same purpose. I do not know." He tilted his head to look down at her with a half-smile. "I will certainly not turn down a roof over my head. You will have to get used to having a man-dog sleeping in front of your fire, I fear."

"I don't think I'll mind, so long as you don't forget to bathe," she teased him back, leaning back into his side, enjoying the warmth of his closeness and the easy companionship. She wasn't sure why, but she trusted him more than she'd trusted anyone in a very long time. "You smell good," she told him quietly, almost shyly, without meeting his gaze for fear he'd see her blush.

He chuckled gently. "Of course I do, I'm currently wearing several layers of your soap," he teased her, letting the moment slip away without comment or emphasis. "I will try to warn you ahead of time if I ever decide to shave properly, though. I'm sure you don't have so many plates you're prepared to drop one every time I have a bath."

"It wasn't the bath. It was the haircut," she admitted, feeling her face flush with heat. "I wasn't expecting it." Even though she had left him with a razor and scissors. It wasn't so much the haircut that had startled her, but the handsome face that had emerged once all that superfluous hair had been removed. "How are you feeling?" she asked, changing the subject once again. "I should probably check your wound."

He smiled, touching his cheek to her hair briefly before raising his head once again. "I should definitely warn you if I ever shave, then," he chuckled. "You might be shocked to discover just how baby-faced I am under this shadow." Her change of subject made him pause, examining his physical being. "To be honest, I live with aches and pains every day of my life," he admitted. "I have grown so used to them that the occasional wound barely even registers any more."

She might have remarked on the baby-faced comment if he had not gone on to mention his own daily suffering. "All the more reason you should sleep indoors," she told him, especially considering the fact that he couldn't shift form the way she could. She wasn't going to let him remain homeless if she could help it. "Besides, I have a place in the city. When I'm not here, I'm there, so then you'd have this place all to yourself."

"I wouldn't force you out of your home here, Marissa," he frowned, concerned then that his presence in the cabin might force her into the city - a place he had never visited, and which did not appeal to him at all.

She patted his leg as if to reassure him, forgetting that a short time earlier, she'd been terrified to let him get close. "You wouldn't be. I have family in the city. I go there every now and then to visit, but this is the place I consider home."

"Ah, I see." His smile was a little wistful in his understanding; for all that she seemed alone, she had family close by. Perhaps his friendship was not quite such the offer he had thought it might be. "Now, I believe you wanted me to bare my chest for you. Inside or out?"

[Marissa]

And yet, despite the mention of family and friends, here she was alone in this place in her self-imposed state of solitude. She didn't seem to notice his misunderstanding of her situation, however, chuckling a little at his question. "Not a shy bone in your body, is there?" she asked, moving to her feet, the blanket still tucked around her shoulders and the coffee cup in one hand.

He shrugged. "I've nothing to hide," he mused, "and I'm sure you'll enjoy seeing the bald patch you created with your bandage last night. I'd bare more if I thought it would make you smile."

"I smiled, see?" she said, flashing him a cheesy smile, her eyes bright with amusement. "Come on, Fido. Let's see how you're healing," she teased, turning to lead the way back into the cabin.

"Woof." He laughed as he pushed himself up onto his feet, not even noticing his own wince with the motion. "You know," he said thoughtfully, moving to follow her back inside, "without a need to keep on the move, I am going to suddenly have a lot of free time. If there is anything that needs doing to the cabin, you should tell me. I'm good with my hands."

"Plan on becoming a massage therapist?" she teased. There were other comments she could have made about his hands, but she thought most of them might come off as a little too flirtatious. She shrugged the blanket from her shoulders and dropped it off on the bed before going to fetch her medical supplies. "The roof leaks sometimes," she remarked, topping the list of repairs that needed doing.

"A what?" he asked, laughing at the silly job title she had thrown at him. Just inside the door, he paused to take his boots off, not wanting to track mud through her home if he could help it. "I can fix the roof," he offered without a second thought. "Your woodpile isn't covered - I could build a shelter for it, to keep the gathered logs dry."

"You have a lot to learn, Fido," she teased him further, tossing a wink his way. He wasn't of this world, after all, and it seemed he knew very little of technology. It was probably a good thing the cabin was so quaint and rustic. "That should keep you busy for a little while," she replied, finding herself strangely relieved to give him a purpose and a reason for staying. She swapped her coffee cup for her medicines, directing him with a wave of her hand to the chair he was growing so accustomed to. "Let's have a look."

"Oh, I'll earn my spot by the fire, don't you worry," he chuckled. Perhaps it was odd, that someone who had lived the last decade almost entirely alone should be so ready to laugh and talk, but perhaps not. He had been starved of companionship for a very long time. As she waved him toward the chair, he rolled his eyes, his fingers clumsily unbuttoning the shirt he wore. "Are you planning on smearing more sweetly scented herbals on me?"

She found herself frowning at the thought of him sleeping by the fire like a dog. It was too bad she didn't at least have a couch, but the cabin was small and cluttered enough as it was, and the bed was big enough for two. She pushed that thought away for the time being; it was far too distracting to think of him curled up beside her. "That depends on how well you are healing." Which likely depended on the gravity of the wound.

He'd had that thought himself, but he didn't trust himself not to want more if he was sleeping beside her. No, a spot by the fire was more than enough for him; it was luxury compared with most nights spent under the stars. Pulling off the shirt, he bared his torso to her again - clean, this time, and with a large patch of his chest hair missing, thanks to her very well stuck bandage from the night before. The wound was scabbed over, already looking several days old, the skin a little pinched and reddened but healing.

She crouched down in front of him once again, this time in the light of day, to have a look at the wound, which appeared to be healing sufficiently, if not quickly enough for her. She frowned a little as he considered her options. She had her secrets, and some of those secrets were sacred, hidden from those who did not share her heritage or her race, and yet, who would ever know? "I could heal this for you," she told him, though she did not say how.

Holding his arm out of the way, he looked down at her quizzically. "Is it not healing right?" he asked, more curious than concerned. He'd had bad wounds fester before healing themselves before now, but he'd thought this one would be fairly straightforward.

"No, it's healing fine," she replied. "I don't see any signs of infection, but ..." She sighed, feeling foolish for even mentioning it. "I don't know how long it takes for your kind to heal," she said, dipping two fingers into an ointment and carefully spreading it across the place where the scab was forming. "I don't think you need a bandage, so long as you're careful."

He watched her for a moment, considering what she had and had not said. "What did you mean?" he asked gently. "That you could heal it for me?" He knew he would be healed as though it had not happened within another day or so, but he was curious as to what she had been considering telling him.

"I have certain gifts ... abilities," she told him, without looking at him, her attention focused on her work. "But I have never used them for someone else's benefit. The gifts are sacred to my people, but ..." She shrugged. "What good are they if they can't be used to help someone?"

"Marissa." He twisted, gently catching her hands in his. "I would never ask you to defame something sacred for my sake," he told her quietly. "I understand spirituality, though I have never had much in the way of structured faith. But if you want to heal me, then do so. You should not suppress a part of yourself. I may not be one of your people, but I will respect it. I will respect you."

She lifted her head to meet his gaze, her expression solemn. He didn't seem to understand what it was she was offering or what it was he was accepting from her, and she wasn't sure she knew how to make him understand. "In order to heal you, I must shift."

She was right; he didn't understand what exactly she was offering, because she had not told him more than that it would heal his wound. He wanted to know more, but dared not ask, only too aware of the wounded, frightened feline inside her. So all he could address were the fears that might be uppermost. "I will not look," he told her softly.

She did not tell him what would happen when she shifted or what she would have to do. It wasn't so much the sacredness of the act that bothered her as it was the fact that he'd half-guessed it the previous night, and he'd unknowingly wounded her with his teasing. Still, though the wound wasn't serious, this was something she could do for him, and he had already done much for her. She rose wordlessly from where she crouched before him and set her medicinals aside before going to the bed and fetching the blanket. She would need it when she returned to her human form.

Sensing that this was not something she did lightly, Emrys obligingly turned his back, closing his eyes as he did so. As much as he might want to look at her, to see her in a way he doubted many ever had, he would not betray her trust by peeking. If she was ever ready to show him, she would tell him, he was sure.

It wasn't shifting to tiger that was the tricky part, but shifting back. There was always the chance she'd get lost in that other form and forget herself, though she never had. She'd had years of practice shifting back and forth, and though there were other forms available to her, she preferred the simpler forms of human or tiger. She stayed a short distance away while she made the shift, flesh and hair and bone shifted seamlessly and painlessly, claws replacing nails, fur replacing hair and covering skin. Unlike the horror movies, it was a beautiful thing to behold, but then, she had been born like this, not made. The tiger held no fear and no pain.

Emrys had lived among shifters long enough to know the feeling in the air when a change was taking place. Even with his back turned and his eyes closed, he knew when she had completed her change, chancing a glance to get a good look at the beautiful tiger in the full light of day. He smiled, careful to keep his mouth closed; showing teeth might not be a good idea in the new moments of a shift. "You're a grand sight," he complimented her, offering his hand to the feline, his fingers curled under harmlessly.

[Marissa]

She pushed her head against his hand, like any cat might - big or small - who was craving a little affection, chuffing a greeting to acknowledge him and let him know she was friendly.

He chuckled softly, turning his hand to smooth his palm over the wide, striped head, happy to give her what she craved. There were often deep truths in the animal form, he knew, and it seemed he had just found one of Marissa's deepest. "Affectionate little thing, aren't you?" he murmured gently, enjoying the feel of her fur beneath his fingers as he scratched her jowls, unafraid of the large teeth close to his flesh. "I'll have to remember that."

The great cat nudged his arm, rubbing her head against his hand and closing her eyes in a show of trust and contentment, enjoying his affection and attention if only for a moment before some part of her seemed to sense or remember there was something more she had to do than just enjoy his attention. She warned him with a soft sound low in her throat, not quite a growl or roar, as if to tell him that she understood.

"Stop stalling and turn around, hmm?" he translated for himself in amusement, one last stroke of her head given before he obediently turned to place his wound within easy reach of the tiger so very close by.

He probably could have guessed what she was about to do. It seemed obvious enough. Though the part of her that was human had been reluctant, embarrassed even, the cat had no reservations about doing what she needed to be done. Though a solitary creature by nature, the part of her that was human still craved companionship, and there was some innate instinct to look for a mate, even if she didn't consciously realize she was doing so. Even so, it was the human part of her that was compelled to help him, even if it was the tiger she called on to do it. Her tongue when it touched his flesh was warm and rough, but instead of causing pain, it seemed to soothe him in some way as she licked his wound clean, just as she might her own fur.

He braced for pain, expecting it from the rough feline tongue, and was surprised to find that there was no pain from the intimacy of her grooming. Make no mistake, it was an intimate act. Emrys had only ever seen mated pairs groom one another, not even giving this gift to their own pups, and yet here he was, being healed by the warm wetness of a tiger's tongue. As she licked the scab from his wound, somehow shrinking the open flesh until it was sealed once more, he felt a stirring, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I hope you stay tiger for a while after this," he said in embarrassment. "I don't want to have to explain why I'm walking crooked."

The tiger took no offense to what he said, seemingly indifferent, more affected by the tone of his voice than the words. It was the woman whose feelings had been hurt by his sarcastic remarks about wound-licking, but somehow her compassion had trumped her pride. She continued to lick his wound, until it was healed, some sort of magic obviously at work here, though even she was at a loss to explain it.

In truth, he hadn't meant to give any offense with his remarks the night before, but pain and weariness had leant his words an edge he would not normally have given them. If he had known he'd hurt her, he would have apologized profusely for it. As she licked at his wound, closing the skin, even sweeping the scar away, he breathed out slowly, trying desperately to keep his mind away from how it might be to be mated. Not just mated, but mated with this female.

The cat did not pull away, even when she seemed to sense that the wound was at least fully healed. Instead, she nudged his chest with her head, as if to mark him with her scent before settling herself on the floor beside him with a great yawn, baring long teeth that might pose a danger to anyone but him.

Emrys didn't know if he was relieved she had chosen to stay feline, or disappointed, but either way, he was putty in her paws. As she nudged at his chest, he slid down onto the floor to take her head into his lap, his hand stroking over her shoulder and flank as she yawned. "Thank you, kitten," he murmured to her, aware that somehow even the minor aches and pains he lived with daily had been eased by that intimate gift. "Someday I'll find a way to repay you this kindness, and all your kindness to a stray dog. But friendship is what you asked for, and friendship is what I'll give you." He looked down at her, one hand on her shoulder, the other gently scratching her jaw. "If I were not a freak, I would offer my life to you, Marissa. But I am not so cruel as to deny you any hope of a litter of your own, just to please myself. When you find your mate, I will push you into his arms, and be glad for you."

The tiger was unable to answer in a way he might understand, nor did she completely understand his words, but she did understand the tone of his voice and the affectionate caress. She chuffed in approval, resting her great head upon his lap, eyes squinting closed in contentment.

He smiled as she relaxed further, grunting a little as the full weight of her head and shoulders bore onto his lap. At least that stirring had corrected itself in the face of affection from a large cat, but as the thought occurred to him, so did another. Still gently stroking her jaw and neck, he reached for the blanket she had brought from the bed, shaking it out to cover the striped body reclining on the rug and himself. She needn't fear shifting back where she was; he would not watch, and even if he happened to glimpse, the blanket would protect her modesty. "I have never wished so much that I could shift," he murmured softly, knowing she understood only his tone, which was gentle and fond. "I would be smaller than you, I fear, unless I have Alpha in my blood. But I would like to run with you under the moon."

Her tail twitched as if to wordlessly answer him, as he settled the blanket against her and opened his heart to her. The tiger might not understand, but the woman inside her did - or would, if he repeated his words to her once she shifted back. For the moment, she seemed content to remain in this form, savoring his affection just as she had on the porch, with his arm around her.

Unfortunately, however, she was a tiger, and all that muscle was weighty as she reveled in her relaxation. As reluctant as he was to break the moment, Emrys was very aware that he had lost the feeling in his foot. "As beautiful as you are, kitten," he said, his tone shifting to something a little more authoritative as his hand stilled against her fur, "you are also more female than I can comfortably handle right now. If you want to stay cat, stay cat, but I need to start moving before my foot drops off." He chuckled softly, gently scratching her chin as he made eye contact. "Or I could stay right where I am and you could shift right where you are. I won't look."

The tigress lifted her head to meet his gaze with intelligent, amber eyes that seemed to search his eyes and look into his soul. Even if she didn't understand his words, she seemed to understand his meaning, offering a light growl in return, as if to try and answer him somehow. And then, she was shifting, right there, before his eyes, while she held his gaze. Slowly, her form shifted and changed, letting him witness the wonder of it as she changed first to that in between state that was neither human nor tiger, but a little of both. Half woman, half tiger, her face appeared feline, her body still furred, but her limbs lengthening, her body slimming, claws slowly retracting and teeth shrinking as she made the shift to human. In all her years, in all her lifetimes, only a rare few had ever been privileged to witness such a sight.

Despite his promise not to look, he couldn't break the gaze they shared as her form shifted fluidly from tiger to woman. His hand gripped the blanket, peripheral vision telling him where it needed to be before it became absolutely necessary, and even in his wonder at the trust she showed him, he covered her modesty before there was modesty to cover, slipping his hand from the blanket before he could be said to be touching anywhere he shouldn't. It was a magical moment, that change from animal to human, and one he had never experienced for himself, aching to know that he would never be able to repay this moment of absolute honesty that she was giving him.

She didn't say anything, as there was nothing to say, but only lifted her head from his lap, rising up to pull the blanket around her before leaning close to touch a kiss to his lips. It was daring - almost as daring as giving him the gift of healing or the privilege of witnessing the change. The tiger might have licked him, but the woman wanted something more.

[Marissa]

To his shame, Emrys found himself shaking as she leaned into him, too nervous to move or speak. Her breath touched his lips, and he felt his heart lurch in the moment before her lips touched his. Just a touch, but it set him on fire in a way he had never before experienced. In a way he was sure he would never experience with anyone but her. One trembling hand rose slowly to touch her hair, fingers combing into the dark silk to hold her there as he dared to answer her kiss with his own - his first kiss, though he would likely never admit it aloud.

She had kissed and been kissed before, but not in this body or this lifetime. It was something she did not want to explain, the experiences of those others part of her, but not really belonging to her. Not unlike him, this kiss that she gave him was the first she'd ever shared with anyone, and it was affecting her in ways both expected and unknown. Her fingers found his face, rough with beard, before sliding into his curls, soft in contradiction to his beard.

How long she kissed him, he could never tell, but that moment would become one of his most treasured memories for the lifetime to come. When, at last, it ended, he found himself breathless, looking into eyes that could become dearer to him than any others, if she would allow it. He swallowed, nervous and uncertain of himself, blurting out the first thing that came to mind. "Thank you."

She said nothing for a long moment as their lips parted, as surprised as he was by the feelings that one kiss had stirred inside her. She had been yearning to kiss him all morning. It had been in good part what had made her so nervous when he'd come close, but she'd been terrified to admit it, even to herself. She blinked back at him, a little confused at his gratitude, wondering what exactly it was he was thanking her for. "For what?" she asked, quietly, almost wishing he hadn't broken the spell so soon.

He laughed a little, his fingers still gentle in her hair as they looked at one another. "I don't know," he whispered. "For being you."

For inviting him to her home? For helping him? For tending his wounds? For healing him? For kissing him? Or maybe just for being his friend, though in truth, if that kiss was anything to go by, she thought she might like to be more than that. "You hardly know me," she pointed out, frowning lightly.

His thumb stroked gently along the line of her jaw. "I think some things, some people, you just know," he murmured softly. "I offered you my friendship, Marissa. But that was a lie. What I truly offer you is everything I am, however you wish to take me, however selfish I am for wanting a life with you, however quickly I may seem to be trusting my instincts. Reject me, and I will still be your friend, but I will never be a friend to the one you choose for your mate. I will envy him, that he has your trust and your love, all the days of my life."

Her eyes widened at his words, at the naked honesty in them and the trust with which he spoke. He knew she might reject him, and yet, he was not afraid to speak his mind and his heart, and she found herself not only touched to the core of her soul by his words, but envious at his ease in saying them. She would have grasped his shirt and clung to him, but for the fact that he wasn't wearing one - a fact that the tiger might have ignored but the woman was all too aware of. "I-I have no mate, Emrys," she told him, lowering her gaze as if afraid to meet his eyes. Had he not heard anything she'd told him? She was an abomination, unworthy of a mate. Why did he think she lived here all alone in her self-imposed exile?

"Not yet," he told her softly, leaning close to brush his lips against her temple. "I know you carry some great sadness inside you. I know you are afraid of letting someone so close. I do not expect you to welcome me with open arms. I do not expect you to want anything from me but my friendship. I could never give you cubs or pups, kitten; I would never risk it. No one deserves the life I live, and I would not condemn you to raising mutant half-breeds like me." His thumb stroked her cheek once again, his voice heavy with regret. "But someday, you will meet someone who can give you everything you long for, and I will be the first to push you into his arms. I'll hate him forever, but I'll be happy for you. You deserve that life, Marissa, and it will come to you. Someday."

If he thought to comfort her with his words, with his self-degradation, with his regret and self-pity, he was mistaken, and she found her heart flaring with passion, angry that he should say such things about himself and make such decisions for her without any thought to what she might like. "Enough! That's enough, Emrys. How dare you presume what I want or with whom?" she told him, shoving him roughly aside, eyes brimming with tears. She pulled the blanket around her shoulders and moved to her feet, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to run, and so she simply turned her back on him as she struggled with her own confused feelings.

He winced, flinching back as she rose angrily to her feet, regretting his honesty with her. But he wouldn't lie to her. "I apologize," he said quietly, rising to his own feet to reclaim the shirt and shrug into it. "But it doesn't make what I've said any less true, Marissa."

"What you've said," she echoed under her breath, turning to face him, letting him see the tears on her face that were evidence of her own pain, brought on by his well-meant words. "I am sick of your apologies. Stop apologizing for who you are and accept it. It is not your fault you are what you are anymore than it is mine. You think you know me, but you do not. I am half like you, Emrys. Did you know that? My mother was a tiger, yes, but my father was a wolf. I have no pack to protect me. My birth parents are dead, and my siblings ..." She trailed off with a shrug. "Why do you insist I would reject you when you are just like me? Do you loathe yourself so much that you would turn your back on what is right before your eyes? I offered you friendship, yes, but if more were to come of it, I would be happy for it, Emrys."

"I know what is before my eyes," he snapped back at her, and it was a snap, a clash of jaws that would have been threatening in a wolf. "A beautiful woman, a beautiful tiger, who deserves more than to be shackled to a freak who will hurt her the moment she comes too close at the full moon. Aye, I have instincts like a wolf. If I was whole, I would ask you to be my mate, and I would fight for you, Marissa. But I am not whole. I am not a man, and I am not a wolf. It isn't loathing, it isn't an apology. This is what I am! And I would give anything to be whole and real. To be worthy of giving you the life you deserve. Anything."

Ah, but she was a tiger, and she would likely make a worthy foe, unafraid of the wolf that was in him, as he was unafraid of the tiger in her. Her eyes flashed with anger as she moved closer, poking a finger at his chest, in the very place she'd just healed. "Don't you ever presume to tell me what I deserve. And don't think you can scare me either. I've faced worse than the likes of you, wolf, and I survived, and I will go on surviving. So, you can try to push me away if you like, but I don't scare that easy. You have two choices - you can stay and we will sort this out together, or you can leave, but don't ever tell me what I deserve or that you are not worthy of happiness. Ever."

He stared at her, hearing more in her words than perhaps she was ready for him to understand. He had no more words left to make his case; she had made her decision, and though it was not the one he would have wished for her sake, it made his heart swell in his chest. A wild grin erupted onto his face as he reached for her, pulling her into a kiss that was more passion than anything. It was not a good kiss, but it was an honest one. "You don't listen, do you, kitten?" he told her when they parted, that grin still there to light his eyes with hope. "I'm yours, if you want me. Even if it is a damn silly idea, I'm still yours."

Her eyes widened as he pulled her into a very unexpected kiss, hands pressed against his chest as though she might push him away, but she didn't. Neither did she melt against him, as if that one kiss might temper her anger. She was a creature of passion, whatever the source of that passion might be, and it would take more than a mere kiss and some pretty words to defuse her anger. She pulled away from his embrace, eyes narrowed at him, even as he grinned like an idiot. "You're an ass, you know that?" she accused, giving him a light shove, but the anger had ebbed away as the meaning of his words finally sank in. "Before you get too excited, Romeo ... We have three bodies that need tending to before they stink up my woods."

"I'm your ass now," he teased her with a wink, feeling as though every inch of him was singing cheerfully. "Although ..." He tilted his head, green eyes dancing with amusement as he made a performance of looking at her rear end. "You're probably going to want to put some clothes on before you step outside, kitten."

[Marissa]

"Thanks for the reminder," she retorted sarcastically, unsure if she was still angry with him or not. He seemed a little too pleased with himself for her liking, but at least he seemed to understand her better now. She was half tempted to let the blanket drop to the floor as she gathered up her clothes, but she decided against it. As tempting as the thought was, she wasn't quite that cruel. Instead, she gathered up her clothes and started toward the bathroom to get dressed, while struggling to keep the blanket in place.

"Wait." Letting his smile fade to something a little less annoying, Emrys moved to collect her clothing from her arms, closing his eyes. "Now cover yourself up and tuck it in place so it won't move," he told her, waiting patiently for that to be done before handing her clothing back to her. "I'll wait outside."

"Aren't you the clever one," she remarked, trying hard to hide the amusement from her face, patting his cheek once the blanket was secured in place, before taking her clothes from him. "Yes, you will," she replied, an amused grin on her face, before turning to head for the bathroom.

"If you're nice to me, I'll let you rub my belly later," he called to her as she moved out of sight, turning himself to do up his shirt and shrug into his leather coat and boots. Settling his knife belt about his hips, he headed out to wait on the porch, doing exactly as he said he would do.

"Most men would prefer to have something else rubbed," she murmured with a satisfied smirk before escaping into the bathroom to get dressed. She'd been half-tempted to ask him to hand her each item of clothing one at a time, but again, she didn't want to push her luck too much. So far, he'd been nothing but a gentleman, but who knew if he was really a wolf in sheep's clothing? She wasn't gone long and by the time she joined him, she was once again clad in jeans and a sweater, boots, and a warm jacket. There was just one thing she hadn't decided yet, and that was whether to bury or burn the bodies.

By the time she joined him, he'd found a shovel from somewhere - that canine nose came in handy, even if it was trapped in human form. It seemed as though he was fairly sure they were going to bury the attackers; they were human beings, after all. He turned as she came into view, a wariness about him now he was outside that had been missing while protected by the shelter of her cabin. "Shall we?"

She eyed the shovel, wondering what he had in mind. "Are you planning on digging three graves?" she asked, having a better idea in mind. Perhaps it wasn't the best way to get rid of the bodies, but they had invaded her woods with the intention to kill and she owed them no special treatment. It was enough she wasn't leaving them to the scavengers and elements.

"Well, I'd rather not have to chop my way into the frozen ground, but I don't know your views on lighting fires in your woods," he pointed out. "Your land, kitten, your rules. I'm just your ass, remember?"

"It's hard to forget when you keep reminding me," she replied, keeping a straight face despite teasing him. She frowned as she thought about the dead men that were out there rotting in her woods. Did they have families, loved ones? Would they be missed? Should she alert the Watch that they'd been killed? If she did, it was likely there'd be an investigation. Would anyone even care? "I've never killed anyone before," she admitted quietly, at least, not in this lifetime.

He frowned, moving to walk beside her into the woods. "I rarely kill," he told her. "But the only death at my hands I have ever truly regretted was my sister's. These days, I kill to protect myself, or to protect others. They were not good men. If they could look upon a girl alone in the woods with such predatory instinct, I have no doubt that whatever family they had is well rid of them."

"But I confronted them, Emrys. If I'd let them be, they'd still be alive right now," she reasoned, feeling a certain sense of guilt shadow her heart, though she also knew if she'd left the hunters be, it might have been herself and Emrys who'd have been killed. "I do not always know what the tiger will do when I surrender to that side of myself."

"No, they wouldn't be," he told her firmly. "If you had not confronted them, they would have hunted you down. They were following you, Marissa. It is far better to be the hunter than the hunted, even when the outcome is not what you might have wished for. I killed two of them - don't take responsibility for all of them onto yourself."

"They attacked us. We had no choice," she reasoned further, not liking the thought of having blood on her hands, even though she knew they had been justified in what they'd done. It had either been the hunters or them. "I know you must think me naive," she said, though that wasn't really true, despite her claims at never having killed a human before.

"No, I just think you've had a very different experience of life than I've had," he assured her, glancing her way as they passed beneath the trees. "And that isn't a bad thing. It's the differences between people that make for binding friendships and lasting alliances; the flaws, rather than the perfections. I'd be incredibly boring if I was perfect."

She halted a moment, reaching to touch his arm as she turned to face him. "But you don't have to live like that anymore. I don't want you to live like that anymore," she told him, not for the first time.

He paused, turning to meet her eyes with that disarmingly honest look on his face once again. "I don't want to live that way any longer," he agreed with her quietly. "But ... I don't know what I'm doing, Marissa. I meant every word I said, especially the parts you missed the first time around. But I've never felt this way for anyone before now. I had never kissed anyone before your lips touched mine. I've lived alone for ten years. I really don't know what happens next."

"Emrys," she said, her expression softening along with her voice, as she reached for his hand, her fingers tangling with his. "I have never felt this way before either. I'm as much at a loss as you are. We'll figure it out together. Promise," she told him, offering a warm, reassuring smile, even if she wasn't so sure herself.

His hand wrapped about hers, warm and reassuring despite his uncertainties. "Well, you can't get rid of your *ss very easily now," he murmured, his smile gentle despite the tease. "Just be glad I'm not insisting on walking around physically attached to your rear end."

She smiled and rolled her eyes at him, amused and annoyed at the same time. "All right. I'm sorry. You're not an ass. I was just angry. Happy now?" she asked, as she turned to continue on, leaving her fingers tangled in his.

"Very." The word was barely spoken aloud, but he knew she would hear it. For the first time in a long time, Emrys was experiencing something very strange. With his hand in hers, he felt that odd tug that was belonging ... and to his surprise, it wasn't belonging in a single place, but belonging to a single being. He smiled to himself as he fell into step with her. "So does this mean I'm allowed to sniff your butt at some point?"

She laughed, rolling her eyes at him again. "No! And if you try, I'm going to build you a doghouse to sleep in!" she warned, teasingly. Her laughter didn't last long, though, as the scent of dead flesh and carrion wafted toward them on the wind. "We're nearly there."

Emrys' smile deepened at the sound of her laughter, but faded as he, too, caught the scent on the air. He frowned, drawing her to a halt. "What do you want done with them?" he asked her, making the assumption that - having never killed before - she'd never seen a partially eaten corpse before, either. It wasn't a sight he particularly wanted her to see.

She frowned thoughtfully at his question, but there was really only one answer she could give him, though it might not help him know what they should do. "I don't want them in my woods. I don't want them buried here or burned here. They were trespassing here. They don't belong here," she told him quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper on the wind.

[Marissa]

"All right." He lowered the shovel from his shoulder, gently pushing it into her hands. "Go back to the cabin," he told her. "You don't need to see them to know that I will handle this. I'll be back in a few hours, I promise you. But I don't want you to see this."

"But ..." she started, as she accepted the shovel from him, surprised that, once again, in a way, he had come to her rescue. "What are you going to do?" she asked, needing to know before she could leave him to it.

He considered this for a moment. "I smell running water not too far away," he said thoughtfully. "I'll go and take a look - if it's deep enough, and running fast enough, I'll pitch them into that and let the current take them off your land. If it isn't ... well, I'll be walking for a while."

"The river," she said, following his thoughts. "The river is high now," she continued, knowing her land better than anyone - her mother's land and her grandfather's before that. "You would do this for me?" she asked, feeling tears stinging her eyes.

He smiled gently at her, releasing her hand to cup his palm to the back of her neck, drawing her close enough to touch his forehead to hers. "Anything for you, kitten," he promised her. "You may be more capable than I am, but I won't let you hurt yourself needlessly. Go home. I'll be there before sunset."

There was no resistance in her this time, allowing him to draw her close, welcoming his closeness, just as the cat had done so a short time before. "I don't deserve you," she whispered back, touching a kiss to his cheek, but not arguing with him further. "Don't make me come looking for you," she warned him, with a faint, teasing smile on her lips.

He answered her teasing smile with his own, gently stroking her neck with his fingers before he drew away. "I'll be there," he promised her. "Now shoo, before I decide to find something wet to spray you with."

There was no point in arguing with him, grateful he was willing to do this for her, as if he knew it would be too much for her. It wasn't like she'd never hunted or killed before, but she'd made a vow a long time ago never to kill a human, unless absolutely necessary, and even more importantly, never to become a man-eater. She found herself smiling at his threat; they both had a lot to learn about each other. "Contrary to popular belief, tigers love water," she told him, giving his hand a final squeeze before pulling away to make her way back to the cabin alone.

He watched her go, making sure she was well on her way before turning to the gruesome task before him. It took several hours, just as he had said it would, but he returned to the cabin whole and well, her lands cleared of the bodies that would have given her nightmares had she seen them. He was, however, covered in congealing blood, hesitating outside the cabin as he looked down at himself. "I may need another bath," he called through the door, not really wanting to walk through her home in the mess he was in.

It took a moment before he heard a reply, as she had made herself busy during the hours he was gone. "Strip on the porch!" she called back. They were definitely going to have to make a trip to the city to do some shopping.

"Strip." He sighed, dropping his coat over the railing, and working on removing his boots. The shirt came off easily enough, but he hesitated when it came to his pants. He wasn't normally embarrassed by his own skin, but then, he'd never shown off everything he had to someone he liked this much. The thought of Marissa laughing at the sight of him was a scary one. "I, uh ... blanket, maybe?"

She had assumed he was wearing underthings, but she wasn't too sure. The thought of him trailing blood and mud through the cabin was an unpleasant one, especially blood of the dead hunters. "Just a minute!" she called back, moving about the cabin to fetch him the same blanket she had wrapped herself in just a few hours earlier. She didn't really want to see or smell the evidence of the previous night, but she couldn't avoid it forever either, her nose wrinkling at the smell as she opened the door to hand him the blanket.

As she opened the door, he jumped, spinning around to face her, holding the pants he had just taken off protectively in front of his crotch. His face flushed deep red despite the chill in the air. "Uh ... thank you," he nodded to her, avoiding her gaze as he took the blanket from her hand to wrap it awkwardly about his waist. He glanced at the blood-stained clothing guiltily. "Burning them would be easier than washing them."

She turned, averting her gaze, just as he had so that she didn't embarrass him by seeing too much, though she'd already seen him with his shirt off. She nodded, extending an arm toward him until he took the blanket from her. Thankfully, he hadn't borrowed her father's coat, or it might have been ruined, too. "We can burn them in the hearth," she replied, though she would have preferred to burn them outside. "I'll run you a bath," she said, before ducking back inside, before she could catch a glimpse of him.

He nodded, waiting until she was gone again before casting an almost anguished look at the bloodstains on his boots and coat. He'd had them for a good few years, repaired and worn until they fitted him perfectly. It was a little mournful to realize he was going to have to try and break in a new pair of boots again. Still, it was a small price to pay for Marissa's peace of mind. As she went to run a bath, he made his way into the cabin to collect a lick of flame on a substantial stick. Back outside, he used kindling from the woodpile to build a decent enough fire, and began the process of burning the ruined clothing, his own nose wrinkling at the smell of blood and leather and sweat combined in the crackling flames.

She wondered what was taking him so long, but the smell of burning leather answered that question quickly enough. She sighed, knowing she was going to have to find him some spare clothing sooner rather than later and made a mental note to make a quick phone call while he was in the bath.

It was a strange feeling, burning his own clothing. The boots, in particular, were a low blow, but it was his own fault. If he'd really thought about it, he would have done his body removals in the nude and avoided having to do this altogether. It didn't take long for most of the clothing and leather to burn down - what little was left could smolder in the embers until he came out to dispose of them. But he needed to wash the blood from his own skin so he didn't make Marissa feel sick, and that required the bathroom. Passing through the cabin, he knocked on the bathroom door.

She opened the door, wrinkling her nose again at the stench he of blood and death and burned leather that lingering about him. "You burned your boots?" she guessed, as she hadn't noticed anything else he'd been wearing that was made of leather.

"And my coat," he told her regretfully. "It was that, or make you live with the smell of dead blood in your own home, and I won't do that." He straightened his shoulders, meeting her eyes. "I'm a big boy, I can live without shoes for a while. Shouldn't take long to trade enough furs for some good soft leather."

She sighed, adding boots and a coat to her list of items he was going to need. "Any idea what size or don't they have shoe stores where you come from?" she asked, as she slipped past him to exit the bathroom.

"I can make my own boots, Marissa," he objected lightly. "I just need soft and hard leather, and I can trade for them once I have enough furs." He stepped aside as she slipped past him, a little confused by her sigh. "Have I done something wrong?"

"No," she replied quickly, offering a soft smile to reassure him. "You just worry about scrubbing and leave the rest to me," she told him, as she pulled the door closed. "Make his own boots," she murmured, chuckling a little to herself. Wouldn't he be surprised when he found out how easily they were replaced?

Still confused by that little exchange, Emrys turned his attention to the bath for the second time that day, working on eliminating the sight and smell of blood, sweat, and fire from his skin with another few layers of her delightfully floral soap.

Meanwhile, Marissa had to make a quick phone call before making lunch. She'd managed to tidy the place up while he'd been gone, and though he might not have noticed just yet, she had put out extra pillows and blankets on the bed and moved his pack away from the fireplace.

[Marissa]

Of course, it was only after he'd climbed out of the bath, rinsed it down, and emptied it, that Emrys realized he was standing naked in the bathroom with no clothing handy, and only a rather insubstantial towel to protect his own modesty. Holding it protectively over his most masculine part, he opened the door a crack. "Marissa? I don't suppose my pants are dry yet, are they?"

There was a long pause before she replied, calling back to him from somewhere in the other room. "They're still wet! There's a bathrobe hanging on the back of the door. Try that!" she said, hoping he didn't notice that it was a little on the feminine side.

"A ... what the hell is a bathrobe?" he asked in confusion, tilting his head back to look at the thing hanging on the back of the door. "Oh, good grief." It was more than a little on the feminine side. "No, a towel will do," he said swiftly, adjusting said towel until it was secure about his waist. "I'd hate to ... stretch your robe thing."

She couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction to her robe. Maybe it was the floral pattern that was putting him off? Taking pity on him, she went to the chest of drawers, rummaging for something Duncan might have left behind that would do for a few hours.

He wasn't the most manly man in the world, but he did draw the line at wearing pretty floral robes obviously designed for a woman. With drips falling from the tips of his curls, he made his way into the main room, looking over at her curiously. "You look very busy there. Should I be concerned?"

"No, I'm just looking for something Dunc ... a friend of mine might have left behind," she explained, not quite realizing that he had no idea who "Dunc" might be or why he might have left some of his clothes behind in the cabin. As fastidious as a cat, she'd gone over the cabin with a fine-tooth comb after Duncan and Mara had moved out, but she was hoping that just maybe she'd missed something. She'd saved a few of her father's things in a trunk, but those were the clothes he'd just burned. She sighed, hands on her hips as she closed the drawer. "I guess you'll just have to wear my ..." She trailed off as she glanced over at him to find him standing there with just a towel wrapped around his waist, her face flushing hotly. "For God's sake, at least, put a shirt on or something!"

Emrys blinked at her reaction, looking down at his chest with an almost wounded expression on his face. "Is it less attractive now it's clean?" he asked innocently, though that innocence didn't last once his smile broke through. "Relax, kitten. This is just until my clothes are dry enough to wear, and then I'll put all my pasty flesh away where you can't see it. Promise."

She rolled her eyes, wondering if he really was that dense. Of course, it wasn't because he was less attractive. "It doesn't matter. A couple of friends of mine will be over in a little while with some hand-me-downs. Now, sit down and try not to lose the towel. Lunch is ready." She told him, waving him toward a chair near the small table where they'd shared breakfast.

"Oh, believe me, flashing you is not on my to-do list," he assured her, his own skin flushing in embarrassment at the thought of her seeing what was under the towel. Not that he didn't want her to, of course, but that might have been going a little too far when they'd only met the evening before. Kisses were enough for now. "Are you going to teach me fetch and roll over once I've learned sit?" he asked with a grin, gathering the towel protectively between his knees as he sat down obediently.

"I was under the impression you are a wolf, not a dog," she chided him gently, knowing people sometimes intermixed the two, just as they did with a tiger and a cat. "Or should I take you outside to do your business?" she teased, trying hard to hide a smirk as she went about setting lunch on the table. It wasn't anything fancy - just cold cuts and cheese and bread for sandwiches, but it would do until later. "I'm not much of a Suzy Homemaker, I'm afraid," she admitted with a small frown.

He chuckled, the smell of the food enticing to his nose. It didn't matter that it was cold, or that not much had gone into its creation - it was still a better meal than he would have been able to put together for himself out in the wild. Her comment made him frown in bemused confusion. "Who is this Suzy Homemaker, and why would you want to be like her?" he asked curiously, fidgeting to keep his hands busy until she'd begun to serve herself. He had manners - evidently his pack had been rather more civilized than others might have been.

She seemed to notice that he was not only hungry, but that he was having a hard time waiting patiently for her to serve herself first. "Help yourself," she told him, giving him permission to do just that. "It's a figure of speech," she told him, turning to fetch them each a cup of tea this time, rather than coffee. "Suzy Homemaker is someone who likes to fiddle in the kitchen. She's the perfect little housewife, I guess," she explained, that frown still on her face, knowing her homemaking skills left a lot to be desired and yet, she kept a clean house and she could cook when she wanted to. What more was there to it than that?

Given permission, Emrys reached out to put together a large sandwich for himself. It would take a while before he could eat without seeming as though he was expecting the food to be taken away, but at least he had tried to be patient. "Doesn't she have anything better to do with her time?" he asked Marissa through his first mouthful. "How can she possibly make being married to a house last all day?"

"She's not married to the house, Emrys. It's just what they call a woman who stays home and tends to the household chores while her partner goes to work." She did not use the word husband or even spouse, as it did not always apply these days. She wasn't even sure how she felt about marriage herself, preferring vows made in private to large, formal affairs and meaningless legal documents.

"Why does it have to be the woman who stays at home?" he asked, not trying to be annoying, but genuinely interested. "Why does one have to stay at home while the other goes out to work? Surely it would be a happier home if both left the house and both kept the house together?"

She sighed, still frowning, as if his questions perplexed her, but not because he was annoying her by asking them - only because she didn't really know the answers. "I don't know, Emrys," she said, realizing if they were going to be together, this was something they were going to have to work out. He was used to always being on the move, taking care of himself, living from day to day off the land. She had done that, too, but these days, she was content with the solitude the cabin afforded, traveling into the city when she needed supplies. She had no job really, or at least, nothing that earned her a paycheck, dedicating her time to watching over her woods.

Sensing he may have said something wrong, Emrys simply nodded in acceptance of her answer, and turned his attention to eating the food in front of him. For all his gregarious tendencies, he was not practiced at social situations. Inevitably he would say or do something wrong, and he was used to these moments of awkwardness when that happened. He just didn't know how to move past them.

He hadn't said something wrong; only something that had made her think, but maybe it was too soon to worry about such things. She sensed an uncomfortable silence settle between them and wondered, too, if she'd said something wrong. "I hope you like my friends. They live on a farm not far from here. Duncan breeds horses, and Mara ..." She trailed off as she considered that, realizing Mara defied explanation. "She's a wife and mother, and she helps around the farm, too," she added, though she wasn't sure exactly what either of them did there. It was enough to know they were happy.

"She's a ... farmwife?" Emrys attempted to clarify it, but inevitably made it stranger. He chuckled, shaking his head. "I am glad you have friends so near by. I assume you're expecting them to drop by very soon." he glanced down at himself. "Hopefully, I won't be naked in a towel by then."

[Marissa]

"Well, she's not married to the farm anymore than a housewife is married to the house," she replied, smiling at last. "I'm just not sure how to explain. They're like you. They're not from Rhy'Din, but they've settled in well here. At least, I hope they have. Mara is with child. She's due to have a baby over the summer. They have one son."

"If they are making their family bigger, I would hazard a guess that they feel well settled," he pointed out, his own smile flaring into life in answer to hers. "How far away are they, is their farm?" He was asking for a very specific reason - come the full moon, he didn't particularly want to put anyone in danger, least of all anyone who meant so much to Marissa.

"A few miles, I guess," she said with a shrug. Nowhere was very far in Rhy'Din really, or even away from Rhy'Din. Everywhere was just a stone's throw through the portal, and for someone who'd traveled through time and space, a few miles was nothing. She piled her sandwich with various slices of cold cuts and cheese while contemplating his question. It didn't occur to her that he might be asking because of what happened to him during a full moon. "I can take you there, if you like. The horses don't like me. They seem to sense my true nature."

"They really wouldn't like me, then," he laughed, finishing off his sandwich in one large bite. "Most animals know there's something dangerous about me. I have yet to make friends with anything that has even the slightest hint of survival instinct. Well, anyone but you. But then, you could probably tear me apart if you needed to."

"I won't need to," she was quick to point out, sounding pretty certain about that fact. "We're going to figure it out, Emrys," she repeated her promise from earlier. Even though they'd only just met, she felt some sort of inexplicable connection with him and had started wondering if this was how her mother had felt about her father, despite their obvious differences. "What's it like where you're from?" she asked suddenly, changing the subject. "Are there ... people like me?" she asked uncertainly.

"I'm not sure," he told her quite honestly. "Three of us were the pack's dirty little secret - they kept us as out of sight as they possibly could. My brother, the one who was born a wolf and could not shift to human, was eventually sold to a human village, and I believe he found his place there as a sort of sheepdog. My sister ... well, you know what happened to her." He shifted uncomfortably. "I know there were other packs in the mountains, even a pride or two, but I was kept very sheltered. They were very insistent upon keeping bloodlines pure - if there were any hybrids between wolf and cat, they were probably killed, unless their parents spirited them away before their existence was discovered. It was a ... a very barbaric sort of place, my homeworld."

"I don't understand why they wanted to keep the bloodline so pure if it caused problems like yours. It seems counterproductive," she reasoned, knowing that in-breeding was rarely a good thing, whether the species was human or otherwise.

"I don't know," he admitted, shaking his head. "Pure humans are considered to be inferior, and yet I truly believe that they will only survive if they allow litters to choose human mates. They would rather kill each other than let packs inter-breed, so it is their only choice."

"Here on Rhy'Din, there are so many different species, there are no steadfast rules, but as far as I know, too much in-breeding produces deformities and other problems. I'm sure there are some species that have no issues with it, but my species usually chooses a human mate. My parents were an exception," she explained.

"And there's nothing wrong with that, either," he pointed out. "But confining your breeding choices to your own blood kin ... I find it ridiculous." He frowned as a thought occurred to him. "I think, perhaps, I saved my sister from a worse fate. She would have been mated with a male from our pack, whether she wished to or not, and her life would have depended upon whether or not her children could shift. If they could not, the pack would have killed her themselves."

All the color drained from her face, paling at his revelation. She had promised not to tamper with the past anymore, but what if she could save another life? How many had she saved already? Maybe this was what she had been born for, after all. She knew what Colleen would tell her - Be careful - but if anyone would understand, it was her. "Did you love her?" she asked, her voice hushed, almost afraid to ask further.

Emrys looked down at his plate, his appetite gone. "She was my sister," he said simply, his voice heavy with guilt and regret. "She was the most vulnerable of us, and I protected her. We'd sleep side by side, I'd fight against claws and fangs with teeth and hands to stop the pack from hurting her. But it was because we were so close that she died. I still have days when I miss her."

She was frowning thoughtfully, tears of guilt and shame gathering in her own eyes as she averted her gaze, turning to stare at nothing in particular. She seemed to dealing with some inner struggle, some piece of information he didn't know about her that she was uncertain about sharing. If he knew the truth about her, it might change things - it could change his whole life. She knew what it was like to lose someone you loved, but she also knew there might be ways to change it.

After a long pause, Emrys cleared his throat abruptly, rising from the table to take his plate to the sink. He didn't know why he had shared all that with her. Seren's death had been a long time ago, and though he missed his sister, he knew her life would have been terrible if she had survived his first turn. "It's done, and nothing can change the past," he said, rinsing his plate off. "Even if I could, would I? I don't think so. She made me who I am, in a way."

"What if I said you could?" she asked, in a quiet voice, almost afraid to mention it. Her gaze didn't follow him, instead, she was watching herself run a finger around the rim of her tea cup, her sandwich only half-eaten in front of her.

"If I could?" He turned to consider her, not even considering the possibility that this was anything more than philosophical conjecture. "Then I would drive myself insane. I would spend every waking moment of the rest of her life protecting her from every little thing, until she hated me. Some things shouldn't be glossed over or rewritten, Marissa. It was a hard lesson to learn, but I needed to learn it, and in learning it, I gave her the quick death our pack would never have given her." He moved to the table, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Even if there was a way, I wouldn't take it. Because without those experiences, I wouldn't be here with you."

"Wouldn't you?" she asked, lifting her gaze to him at last. He might decline her offer, but she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she at least didn't make the offer and make sure he understood exactly what he was passing up. "Rhy'Din is at the center of the Nexus, Emrys. Nothing is impossible here. I've done it before. Duncan and Mara ... They wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me, and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't offer to help you the same way I helped them."

"And what about you?" he asked her, dragging a chair closer so he could sit by her side, making sure his towel hadn't moved or opened up in the motion. "If Seren lived, I might have been killed by my pack trying to keep her from being forced into a mating. I might never have come to Rhy'Din. I might never have met you. The potential between us would never have a chance to exist." He gently cupped her jaw, forcing her to look into his eyes. "I miss Seren, of course I do," he told her. "And I will always feel guilty for her death. But without that moment in my life, I would not be sitting with a beautiful, wounded woman who seems to need me the way I need her. It is not a crime to be selfish now and then, Marissa. If it is selfish to deny Seren a life that could easily be worse than what she had already lived in order to have my chance with you, then I am selfish."

[Marissa]

He was certainly a distracting enough sight in that towel, but this was important. She tried to ignore the distraction, unable to hide the tears in her eyes as she met his gaze. There were so many buts, so many arguments she could make for going back, for changing things, but there were no certainties. She couldn't promise it would work, and there was a chance it could make matters worse. "I don't want to choose. I can't make the decision for you, but I don't want you to regret it someday. I feel like ... like you're choosing me over her, when you could have us both."

"No, I couldn't," he told her gently. "Kitten, listen to me. Even if we were to go back and save her, she wouldn't be my sister, any more than I would be her brother. I would be a stranger who took her away from the only home she knew and the brother who loved her. The person I am would change; I wouldn't be me any longer." His thumb stroked against her cheek as he looked into her eyes. "So, yes, I am making that choice. And I choose you, kitten. The man I am knows his faults, his flaws, his past and his memories, and he wants to be here, with you."

Her chin trembled with the threat of tears as she met his gaze, listening to him - really listening - like he'd asked her to, and something inside her broke. Some wall she'd built around her heart to protect herself, to keep herself from hurting, to hide the pain and the loneliness from the rest of the world. But she didn't want to hide it any longer, not from him, not when he'd bared his own soul to her without asking for anything more than friendship and understanding. In all her life, no one had ever said something that touched her and moved her so deeply as this. No one in her whole life had ever chosen her, not like this, not like he had. Whether he was dressed or not, she lunged toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his hair as she clung to him tightly, her shoulders shaking with silent weeping.

And perhaps it was the memory of Seren that meant Emrys didn't panic and go instantly stiff and unfeeling when a sobbing woman threw herself into his arms. He wasn't sure quite what he'd said that had caused this eruption, but even he could tell when tears were necessary. She needed this outlet of emotion, even if she was going to be horribly embarrassed by it when she was cried out. Acutely aware that his towel had undone itself and was close to baring all, nonetheless he made a point of drawing the weeping young woman into his lap and holding her gently, stroking his hand against her hair, down her back. Weathering the storm with her and hoping like hell her friends didn't arrive unexpectedly before she was ready.

In the past, she hadn't really given anyone a choice. She had traveled through time and space to save a handful of people she had loved, daring to defy fate in bringing them back. The Mallorys were proof of that, and Marissa knew down deep in her heart that she had done the right thing, where they were concerned, but Emrys was a different matter. Saving his sister wouldn't only change her life, but his, and it was a risk he wasn't willing to take. Marissa had been ready to risk her life and sacrifice her own happiness for him and his sister, and he had declined because of her. Because, for once in her life, someone had put her first, and considered her happiness, instead of their own.

It took a while before the storm cleared, as it had been brewing for years, but when she finally lifted her head from his shoulder to look into his eyes, there was something different there, something that hadn't been there before, and it was all because of him. It wasn't love exactly - not yet - but perhaps it was hope.

He held her for as long as she needed him to, not expecting anything from her but what she needed to do to rid herself of this pain he was certain had only been triggered by what he had said. When she raised her head, he smiled at her, gently touching a kiss to the end of her nose. "Better now, kitten?"

She smiled and nodded her head, even as she sniffled and wiped the tears from her face, laughing a little at the kiss to her nose. "The offer is still open. All you have to do is ask, okay?" she told him, needing him to know that saving his sister would never be off the table, as far as she was concerned and that it was never too late.

"I don't think I'll ever need to," he told her softly, gently brushing her hair back from her face. His head tilted as he picked up the sound of hoofbeats from the woods around them. "Company coming."

She smiled, amusement lighting her face as she got up off his lap and tugged the towel into place. "You'd better cover up, then. I wouldn't want you to scare them away with your manliness," she teased, touching a kiss to the tip of his nose before moving to clean up the lunch dishes and put a fresh pot of coffee on. Ever since they'd arrived in Rhy'Din, the Mallorys had acquired a taste for the stuff.

"Your friend Duncan might take one look and decide to behead me for molesting you," Emrys chuckled, covering himself up as he stood. What he wouldn't have given for a pair of dry pants right now, though ... While she hadn't told him much about Duncan, the description of Mara suggested that the woman might be a bit more of a lady than he was used to being around.

"Wrap yourself up in the blanket, silly man," she reminded him, laughing. At least, she hadn't insisted on the bathrobe or offered one of her dresses. He probably would have split the seams of either anyway. "Don't worry. I warned them in advance, so they know what to expect."

"Ah, so they know to expect a naked man in a towel," he nodded sagely, chuckling at this description of himself. "Why are they coming? You didn't say, exactly. Just to expect them." As he asked this, the hoofbeats slowed to a walk, signaling that the visitors were close to the cabin.

"I did say exactly," she disagreed, smirking a little at his lack of memory. "I said they were bringing some hand-me-downs. Do you even know what hand-me-downs are?" she asked as she started clearing the table, peeking out the window to see how close they were. "You still have time to change into my robe," she teased.

"Am I supposed to know what hand-me-downs are?" he countered in amusement, rolling his eyes as she teased him about the robe once again. "I'm happy with my towel, thank you. Just don't ask me to do any gymnastics for them, and they won't see anything indecent."

As Marissa looked out through the window, Thunder's familiar shape came walking into view, with Duncan and Mara set securely on his back. Looked like time had run out for any costume changes.

She quickly went to her dresser, pulled out an over sized t-shirt that she used for a nightshirt and flung it at him. "Here! Put this on. I wouldn't want Mara going into premature labor because of your state of undress," she told him hurriedly. The towel would just have to do, but hell, Scotsmen wore kilts. It was almost the same thing, wasn't it?

Emrys couldn't help laughing at her sudden desire to have him all covered up, catching the shirt she threw in his direction. "She's a real lady then?" he asked curiously, pulling the thing on over his head. It smelled of Marissa, making him smile as his head popped back into view. "Should I hide in the bathroom until she's gone?"

"Yes, she's a lady," Marissa replied, wondering where she ranked on that scale. Probably not very highly, she figured, though he had called her lady, too, until she'd corrected him. "No, just ... sit down and try not to move," she told him, waving him into a chair, just as her friends were starting toward the door. She didn't dare go outside for fear of spooking Thunder.

Waved away to sit in a chair, Emrys planted himself at the table in the hope that he looked half-way presentable so long as he didn't stand up, trying to keep his amusement in check. For someone who didn't seem to mind him wandering around in just a towel, Marissa had become very insistent on hiding his chest from her friends very quickly. Listening to the movement behind the door, he heard two voices - one male, one female - accompanying the footsteps over the porch, before knuckles rapped politely at the wood.

[Marissa]

Marissa narrowed her eyes at him, pointing a silent warning at him to keep his seat, before going to the door. She drew a deep breath, hoping her friends wouldn't scold her for inviting a stranger into her home, before pulling open the door.

The door opened to reveal Duncan and Mara, dark and light, large and petite, both a little chilled but looking exhilarated after their ride. Mara, in particular, seemed to have embraced Rhy'Din's mash-up of cultures, no longer confined in long skirts but wearing rather stylish maternity wear to accommodate her growing bump. With a bundle hanging from her shoulder, she surged inside to embrace Marissa warmly. "We came as soon as we could," she told her friend with a smile. "Rob's with Maggie at the Brambles, so we have some time to play with."

Marissa returned Mara's embrace, a little less shy than she had been when they're first met. After all, they'd had time to get to know each other now that she and Duncan lived in Rhy'Din. "I'm sorry to bother you both, but I wasn't sure who else to call." Oh, she could have called a half dozen other people she considered family, but it would have been awkward with Emrys there, and she was hoping to avoid a lecture.

"We're closest, too," Mara reminded her with a smile, stepping further inside to turn her eyes toward the man seated at the table.

Emrys was fighting against the polite instinct to stand, certain that Marissa would likely growl at him if he showed off just how undressed he really was in front of her friends.

Marissa pulled them both inside, noting Mara's growing baby bump. She would have remarked on it if it wasn't for the half-dressed man sitting at the table. "Duncan and Mara, this is Emrys. Emrys, Duncan and Mara Mallory," she said by way of introduction.

Duncan followed his wife into the hunting cabin he and Mara and Rob had shared for a short while upon their arrival in Rhy'Din before they'd settled in at the Brambles. He stepped past the two women to offer a hand to the man. "Pleasure," he told him with a friendly smile.

"A pleasure to meet you both," Emrys offered, half-crouched over his chair in an attempt to be polite and keep his lower half out of sight.

Mara glanced at Marissa with a faint smile, making an intuitive guess that might not have been far off the mark. "And you, Emrys," she answered him, setting her bundle on the table. "We brought a selection of clothing with us. Some of it may be a little large on you, but there are belts and suspenders in there, too. Duncan has a couple of pairs of boots, too."

"You'll find that clothing is fairly cheap and easily obtained in Rhy'Din," Duncan said, for the man's benefit. He wasn't sure what exactly Marissa had told Mara about the man, but he, too, was sensing a story there somewhere. "I assume you are not a native," he added.

Embarrassed that things had got straight onto his lack of clothing, Emrys sat down awkwardly. "Thank you, Lady Mara." He inclined his head to the golden-haired woman, raising his eyes to her husband. "Uh, no, my lord, I was not born in Rhy'Din. I have lived here for several years, but my clothing situation suffered a minor setback yesterday, and my spares are still drying. I am reliably informed that meeting friends of Marissa in nothing but a towel is not the done thing."

Duncan couldn't help but smirk at the man's reply. It wasn't the formality of his speech that amused him so much as the remark about the towel. "Well, perhaps we can rectify that," he said, taking the bundle from Mara so that he could rummage around for a pair of pants and a decent shirt, as it looked like the one he was wearing was a little too feminine for him.

"I would be incredibly grateful," Emrys assured him, flicking a slightly guilty glance toward Marissa for having owned up so quickly to how under-dressed he was.

Biting her lips, Mara made her way to the little kitchen, setting a second bundle onto the counter. "We brought along a few necessities as well," she told Marissa with a smile. "I thought that, since you seem to have a house guest, a few extra supplies would come in handy."

Marissa only glared back at Emrys, though she had already told Mara as much when she'd called. Somehow, her look seemed to be telling him to get dressed without having to say it is so many words.

Duncan was still smirking, clearly amused by the situation, but he waited for Marissa to turn her attention to Mara before leaning in to whisper, "I'd go get dressed if I were you," he warned, handing a few choice articles of clothing to the man.

"Thank you," Emrys murmured gratefully, taking the offered clothing with a grimace of a grin. It didn't help that the towel decided to slither to the floor when he was halfway to the bathroom, leaving him accelerating with a hint of naked rear end before the door shut quickly behind him.

Thankfully, Marissa's back was turned and she didn't catch sight of the full moon that had been hurrying toward the bathroom, but Duncan did, as evidenced by the bark of laughter that shortly ensued. Marissa turned to find out what was so funny, but the reason for Duncan's laughter had already taken refuge in the bathroom and it seemed Duncan was unable to form words.

Mara raised a brow at her incoherent husband, curious but smiling. "I think, perhaps, your Emrys has a sense of humor to match his," she murmured to Marissa, unpacking cheese, butter, eggs, potatoes, and bread from the second bundle they had brought. "Elise insisted we bring food along, I hope you don't mind."

Marissa gave Duncan very nearly the same look she'd given Emrys a few minutes earlier, but Duncan only smirked back at her. It seemed any attempt at serious conversation was going to be thwarted by the men. "You are as bad as he is," she scolded him before turning back to Mara to help her with the groceries. "Thanks, Mara, and please thank Elise for me. How are you feeling?" she asked, turning her gaze to the baby bump at long last, while Duncan came over to join them, his arms going around his wife to settle his hands against that bump.

"She's feeling just fine, aren't you, love?" he asked, touching a kiss to her cheek in an affectionate and playful attempt to distract her.

Laughing, Mara leaned back into Duncan's arms fondly. "Says the man who tends to sleep through the morning sickness," she teased her husband fondly. "I'm doing well," she promised Marissa. "That tea you made up works wonders. So long as I drink it first thing, before I eat anything, the nausea stays away completely. Elise is convinced it's a boy because I'm still feeling sick." She snorted with laughter, rolling her eyes at that prediction. "And how are you, Marissa? You have not been to visit for a while. Rob's been asking about you."

"Well, how did you feel when you were pregnant with Rob?" Marissa asked, moving about the kitchen to put away the groceries, while the other pair looked on. She frowned a little at the question, feeling guilty for not dropping by and visiting as much as she'd like, shrugging as she stowed the eggs in the refrigerator. "I don't want to intrude," she replied, though they'd never made her feel like an intruder.

"You are always welcome," Mara promised her softly. "But we don't want you to feel as though you have to visit us. You're more family than friend, Marissa. We're going to worry about you, no matter what you do." The question about her first pregnancy made her smile twist just a little. "I don't remember much about being pregnant with Rob," she admitted quietly. "Not because of any illness or anything like that. It was guilt, mostly. My mind just doesn't want me to remember those months."

She knew enough about Mara's past to question her further regarding her first pregnancy. Though it might have been helpful to compare them, she didn't want to cause the other woman any undue pain by bringing up bad memories. She smiled a little at Mara's reassurance, turning a glance at the door into which Emrys had disappeared. "I was thinking ... It will be spring soon. Maybe you could use another pair of hands around the farm?"

[Marissa]

"As far as I can tell, there is always a need for another pair of hands, especially around the planting and harvesting seasons," Mara commented, glancing up at Duncan. "I can't speak for the stables, but they're hoping to successfully foal this year, I believe."

For some reason, instead of looking relieved, the mention of horses brought a worried frown to Marissa's face. "I don't think he'd be good around horses," she said, turning away again to pull some mugs down from the cupboard. "Coffee or tea?"

Duncan's expression turned serious, wondering just what it was Marissa was trying to get at. He preferred the direct approach, but he'd learned that she was a little too bashful for that sometimes. "It's up to Evan and Marin, but we can always use another pair of hands at the Brambles," he reiterated without prying further.

As confused as Duncan by Marissa's evasive comment, Mara shrugged. "There is always room for an extra pair of hands," she nodded in agreement. "More, I believe, if he does not need to live at the farm itself, though that would be very long days if he walks to and from."

"If who walks where?" Emrys asked, having slipped out of the bathroom unnoticed. He was now dressed decently, although still barefoot, the shirt Marissa had given him to wear folded neatly in his hand. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Coffee," Duncan replied to Marissa's previous question without hesitation, before turning to smirk at Emrys' return. "The streaker returns!" he teased, good-naturedly.

"It seems I missed something," Marissa said, mirroring Duncan's smirk. "Coffee or tea, Emrys?"

"Streaker?" Mara laughed, rolling her eyes. "Have you been ogling another man's backside while I wasn't looking, love?" she asked her husband affectionately.

Emrys swallowed a laugh of his own, shaking his curly head. "It's nothing you didn't get a look at earlier, kitten," he promised Marissa innocently. "And I will drink whatever you put in front of me."

"Hmm, perhaps I should see what you think of scotch then," Marissa murmured, just loud enough to be heard.

Duncan seemed to be enjoying the verbal repartee, resting his chin against Mara's shoulder. "This is better than the those silly romance novels you read me sometimes."

"Other people are not purely entertainment," Mara giggled softly to her husband, though she was enjoying the back and forth between Marissa and Emrys herself. She had never thought she would see Marissa so comfortable in the company of a man who was clearly not family.

"I could drop my drawers again, that would be entertaining," Emrys offered with a charming smile. "Though I should go and bury what's left of those embers before the ground freezes again."

"You could sleep outside, too," Marissa countered, with a barely repressed grin as she poured Duncan a cup of coffee.

"What embers?" Duncan asked. "The ones that smell like burning leather?"

"Those would be the ones, yes," Emrys nodded, ignoring the threat to make him sleep outside. He was fully intending on earning his spot by the fire, after all. "Believe me, they smell a good deal better now they've burned."

Mara glanced between the trio, and gently nudged her husband. "Well, Duncan can help you with that," she volunteered him cheerfully. "You'll need a pickaxe and a shovel to break the ground still. It isn't quite warm enough yet."

"I can?" Duncan asked frowning. He hadn't even got one sip of coffee yet and Mara was volunteering him to do some work.

"Yes, of course you can," she informed him, turning so that the very pointed expression on her face was hidden from Marissa and Emrys. If what was going on here was what she thought was going on, Marissa was going to need a little womanly advice before they left, and the only way to do that was to get the men out for a little while.

It took a moment for that to sink in, but from the look on Mara's face, this was not a request. Duncan knew his wife well enough to know when she was trying to get rid of him, and he sensed she might want to share a little girl talk with Marissa, without the men around to eavesdrop on their conversation. "Keep this warm for me," he said, handing Marissa the cup of coffee she'd just poured for him before turning to Emrys. "Come on. I assume you haven't explored the tool shed yet."

"The ... what?" Emrys looked confused once again, turning to collect the boots that had been left for him and hop into them as he headed for the door. "You have a special house for tools?"

"You have a lot of catching up to do," Duncan could be heard replying as he led Emrys out the door, leaving the two women alone to talk in private.

Mara watched them out through the door, waiting until the door itself was shut firmly before she turned her eyes back to Marissa, a gently knowing smile on her face. "You like him, don't you?" she asked the other woman curiously. Marissa had always seemed like such a lone soul, but even Mara couldn't deny that there was something about Emrys that seemed to click into place perfectly with the solitary woman.

"Is it that obvious?" Marissa asked with a shy smile and a faint blush. "Go sit down and I'll make us some hot cocoa," she told the other woman, trying to be a good hostess. She wasn't used to having guests in her home, but like Mara had said, they were like family. "I've never felt this way about someone. I know it sounds ridiculous. We only met last night!"

"Well, I was trained to recognize when men and women are interested in one another," Mara pointed out gently, obediently finding herself a seat to let Marissa fuss in her little kitchen. She'd also been trained to read people, and Marissa had enough trouble expressing herself normally. Discussing a man she liked might be a step too far. "So?" she asked, resting her chin on her hand. "Marin slept with Evan the second night he was at the Brambles and asked him to marry her on the third. Their relationship doesn't seem that ridiculous to me. Why should yours?"

Marissa couldn't help gaping open-mouthed at that revelation. She didn't know the owners of the Brambles well, but she had assumed they'd known each other a very long time. They just seemed so comfortable with each other. Her thoughts turned to another couple - her birth parents, who'd met by accident and hadn't wasted any time in pursuing a romantic relationship. "I didn't know that," she said simply, turning back to finish making the cocoa, her cheeks feeling hotter and redder.

"Not many people do," Mara told her. "Marin has a bit of a loose tongue when she drinks wine, though." She giggled softly; that was how she knew an awful lot about Marin and Evan's relationship, and not a peep of the juicy stuff had ever passed her lips. "The point is, Marissa, that time is only a very small part of what connects people. There's a reason love at first sight is such a cliche, after all."

Her thoughts turned to her foster family and what they might think, but in the end, it was what Marissa herself thought that was important, and Mara was right - she did like Emrys. Like wasn't even the right word for it, though it wasn't quite love. There was a definite attraction there, and she knew he was feeling the same way. "We only met last night," she pointed out again, though perhaps it was the way they'd met that had helped forge their union.