01-11-2015, 08:55 PM
The night was more than she had expected. She'd come here with the intention of probing for information. What she'd discovered was far more pleasing.
Dane was every bit the gentleman, although far different that what she might have expected. Course, she had no experience with what people might call high society, much less someone who hoped to be called a Baron one day.
And truth was, such titles had no meaning for her. The people around her were unimpressive despite their fine clothes and manners every bit as elegant as Dane. No, it was something different. There was a shadow that came over his face at times he didn't realize she was watching, a hint of malevolence. A cat in disguise watching mice move about freely, as if it were declawed. Somehow, she saw it.
It was the same way Regan watched things. She was thirteen years old again, so small compared to him. And yet he had chosen her, had claimed her. He was the embodiment of strength. He was pointing minimally with his chin through the clearing, his eyes calm and still, forcing her to see it. She struggled, looked back at him. His eyes were glacial, a hint of a smile on his face. A slight nod. She nodded back and looked, let her vision expand, take in the chaos of the surrounding, the pattern of life. Gradually, she saw what did not belong. It stopped being hidden. A smile flitted across her face in pride. She looked at Regan again, heart beating insistently.
He looked at her and the smile remained. But in his eyes was pride and her heart beamed. He turned his attention to the creature and suddenly the look was replaced by that of a predator, calm and certain, ready. He did smile then, a slow lazy smile that said this was the best part of the hunt. It was foreplay, the drawing out of the moment. The hunger built, the tension, and even so, he became so still he was almost a rock.
And then he moved faster than she could see, only the sound of the shot and the scream of the wolfkin saying what had happened. Even as there was a feral roar, Regan's knife was out and they grappled. It was over in moments, though it felt like an orgiastic eternity, the screams of the youthful creature echoing through the trees, primal, terrified, the specter of death made flesh to it. And then the screams that had gone on forever went silent. Jacinda quivered as she saw Regan stand, blood staining him, the hunger in his eyes. And then-
The music had stopped and she came to from her reverie. There was Dane with those eyes, hooded as she remembered from so long ago. And for the first time she felt a longing. Not for sex. For Regan. For the man he had been. The man who had taught her to be strong.
She had not expected to see it in this so very unimposing man. The spirit though, the spirit was the same.
Dane excused himself with apologies and went to speak to a man. She took the opportunity to collect herself. She was unsure for the first time. She was not herself, not the cocky experienced Jacinda who had hunted all manner of pray across this land for 30 years. Part of her was terrified at that thought.
Part of her didn't want to let it go. For the first time in decades, she felt those first feelings all over again.
Dane returned and was expressing his delight at her company and his need to leave before she knew it. His lip touched her hand, those shadowed eyes on her.
"I very much enjoyed that Dane."
She used his familiar name. "Yes, I would very much like to see you again."
She handed him her contact information she had brought for her earlier ruse.
At his departure, she took another champagne glass and downed it quickly. The fogginess remained but she was uninterested in making it go away. If anything it became sweeter.
Suddenly, the party seemed drab, dull. Oakland hadn't showed anyway. The night had been a bust for intel. But for something else, though...well, she'd found something she'd not seen in a long time.
Dane was every bit the gentleman, although far different that what she might have expected. Course, she had no experience with what people might call high society, much less someone who hoped to be called a Baron one day.
And truth was, such titles had no meaning for her. The people around her were unimpressive despite their fine clothes and manners every bit as elegant as Dane. No, it was something different. There was a shadow that came over his face at times he didn't realize she was watching, a hint of malevolence. A cat in disguise watching mice move about freely, as if it were declawed. Somehow, she saw it.
It was the same way Regan watched things. She was thirteen years old again, so small compared to him. And yet he had chosen her, had claimed her. He was the embodiment of strength. He was pointing minimally with his chin through the clearing, his eyes calm and still, forcing her to see it. She struggled, looked back at him. His eyes were glacial, a hint of a smile on his face. A slight nod. She nodded back and looked, let her vision expand, take in the chaos of the surrounding, the pattern of life. Gradually, she saw what did not belong. It stopped being hidden. A smile flitted across her face in pride. She looked at Regan again, heart beating insistently.
He looked at her and the smile remained. But in his eyes was pride and her heart beamed. He turned his attention to the creature and suddenly the look was replaced by that of a predator, calm and certain, ready. He did smile then, a slow lazy smile that said this was the best part of the hunt. It was foreplay, the drawing out of the moment. The hunger built, the tension, and even so, he became so still he was almost a rock.
And then he moved faster than she could see, only the sound of the shot and the scream of the wolfkin saying what had happened. Even as there was a feral roar, Regan's knife was out and they grappled. It was over in moments, though it felt like an orgiastic eternity, the screams of the youthful creature echoing through the trees, primal, terrified, the specter of death made flesh to it. And then the screams that had gone on forever went silent. Jacinda quivered as she saw Regan stand, blood staining him, the hunger in his eyes. And then-
The music had stopped and she came to from her reverie. There was Dane with those eyes, hooded as she remembered from so long ago. And for the first time she felt a longing. Not for sex. For Regan. For the man he had been. The man who had taught her to be strong.
She had not expected to see it in this so very unimposing man. The spirit though, the spirit was the same.
Dane excused himself with apologies and went to speak to a man. She took the opportunity to collect herself. She was unsure for the first time. She was not herself, not the cocky experienced Jacinda who had hunted all manner of pray across this land for 30 years. Part of her was terrified at that thought.
Part of her didn't want to let it go. For the first time in decades, she felt those first feelings all over again.
Dane returned and was expressing his delight at her company and his need to leave before she knew it. His lip touched her hand, those shadowed eyes on her.
"I very much enjoyed that Dane."
She used his familiar name. "Yes, I would very much like to see you again."
She handed him her contact information she had brought for her earlier ruse.
At his departure, she took another champagne glass and downed it quickly. The fogginess remained but she was uninterested in making it go away. If anything it became sweeter.
Suddenly, the party seemed drab, dull. Oakland hadn't showed anyway. The night had been a bust for intel. But for something else, though...well, she'd found something she'd not seen in a long time.