Phillipe's Story

She was right and he knew she was right. Then why did he feel like everything she said was a barbed poker jabbing into him, goading him into a response? Even when she discovered the broken jar of beets, her voice was accusatory and cruel. "I was...I was cleaning it, yeah! It was just an accident. Guess I should apologize for that too?"

He watched her go and put their bed together and once again tried to get himself mentally back to a place where he loved her. They couldn't do this. Not when they were so close to figuring everything out. They needed to work together. He needed her and he knew she needed him. Especially now. If she wasn't going to be the grownup and mend these fences, then he would.

He was starting to prepare the meat to cook over the fire when Ada returned, as far away from him as she could get and still acting like a snotty brat. What more did she want from him? Was he supposed to beg like a dog? Was that what she meant when she said he was hers? Screw that! She belonged to him!

Firming his lips in a line, Phillipe said, "Is that it then? Nothing else? Just, 'I'm sorry' 'sure you are. Don't do it again.'?" Rubbing a finger along his upper lip where his golden stubble was starting to grow in, Phillipe said, "If you're not going to talk about it, then you should learn to let it go. Because I don't know what you want and I'm done guessing." Standing up, leaving the meat sizzling over the fire on the spit, he stalked towards the shack. "I'm going to bed," he said wearily, just tired of everything, of her, of fighting, everything.

Ada had curled her arms around her shins, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on top. She barely glanced up at him when he started off on her. To some extent, she knew he was right: he'd apologized and she wasn't putting up with it. She didn't like fighting with him, especially after fighting for him, and her inability to throw out her stubborn frown was making it worse for them. An apology formed on her lips, but fell away when he stood to excuse himself to bed.

Why was she mad? His apology was valid, she knew that. So why was she still so mad at him?

She knew exactly why.

Grasping her shoe, she rose to her knees and chucked it hard at him so it would hit him in the back as he turned from her. "You jerk!" she yelled, tawny eyes wildly reflecting the flames near her. "I offered myself to you and you haven't even said a word about it," she snapped, her face bursting into color. "Do you know how embarrassing that was to say? And you've just pretended like it didn't even happen!"

Her voice was raw, both from her emotions and from her wounds. How did it turn into this? She hadn't even been angry about it until his outburst, but perhaps she'd always been hurt by it but didn't have the courage to speak up. But now that they were fighting, she'd let it loose so easily.

"I'm sorry," she added, unable to keep the sneer from her voice, "for snapping at you. So will you please sit down?"

"Ow! Oi! What the hell?!" Phillipe exclaimed, mostly in surprise at the sudden shoe that hit him in the middle of his back. Looking at Ada, he was briefly startled by the look on her face, the wounded anger that burned there, even as her eyes burned with the firelight.

She might as well have hit him again with what she said next and his own face blossomed with color. "Wha--?!" he stammered, thinking back. Oh, yes. Right after she woke up after the fight. He had made note that she'd said something very pleasing and he'd meant to say something cheeky back at her, to get her to laugh and not be embarrassed about it. But then Charlie had come in and he hadn't thought of it since.

Suddenly, he found it incredibly hilarious that she was embarrassed by saying that to him. That is until he realized, he hadn't really hinted at his own struggles the entire time. "What do you want me to say to that?" he asked, stalking back towards the fire, not taking her invitation to sit. "You know you're bloody beautiful, right? That I'm fall-over-myself insanely in love with you and I always have been? If you need a confirmation, sweetheart, then here it is," he swooped in close to her, kneeling before her on the ground. "I've had blue balls ever since the first night we spent in the Silverthorn. I want you and it takes everything in me, especially now not to rip off your dress and make you fully mine, the way my people do."

His blue eyes looked into hers earnestly and he smirked with a small laugh. "Ada, I'm sorry I didn't say anything. I didn't realize I had to. I thought you could see me drooling and adjusting myself at the prospect." His lips found hers and he kissed her softly at first and then passionately, putting words into action as he poured his need and lustful yearning into a biting, licking kiss. Dragging teeth along her bottom lip, he finally pulled back, his breath labored as he knelt in front of her.

"Now...I'm going to be the sensible one," he said, tonguing his bottom lip and trying to collect himself again. Even still, he couldn't look at her for too long with his eyes glazed over with a primal heat. "We shouldn't. There's a lot at stake and one of us could die."

Ada recoiled when he headed towards her, her chest suddenly tight. Her face burned at his words, burned with embarrassment for not knowing, burned with embarrassment for the way hearing him confirm his feelings made her feel. She'd never been in love with someone before - not like this - and she sure as hell had never been so physically strained by the words of another person.

The tightness in her chest made it difficult to breathe, especially when he stole her lips. She wanted to touch him rather badly, wanted him to understand the extent of her feelings. The anger dripped away from her, succumbing to her fluttering heart. A disappointed, whimpering sound escaped her when he broke off the kiss. Her face felt tingly from where his stubble had brushed against her delicate skin; for some reason she liked that.

A stab of disappointment hit her in his show of reluctance. She'd built herself up, wanted it - to wait? Ada understood why he was saying what he was saying. It wasn't as if she didn't realize that her quest for revenge could end in a six foot hole in the ground. Perhaps that's why she didn't want to wait. Because if he died, she wasn't sure she could ever build herself up to this point again - not for someone else, not for anyone else.

"Fine," she murmured, her tawny eyes cool and collected. "The meat should be done soon anyway."

Ada ran the back of her hand over her swollen lips and stood, all of the anger gone from her body language. She crossed to sit on the other side of the camp fire where she could keep an eye on the elk. As she sat, she pulled her dress over her head and tossed it to the side; though not entirely bare, it was the most skin Phillipe had likely seen on her. She leaned back on her hands, lazily watching him through the biting flames.

"You're right, we shouldn't," she said nonchalantly. "Since you're the sensible one, though, and I'm not, I'll just sit over here with my dress off. And you can sit over there alone, so you can prove to me that you're sensible."

She accepted that rather well, he thought. A little too well. In fact, he didn't think she accepted it very much at all. He turned slowly, watching her cross to the other side of the fire, flopping on his arse as she sat with nothing but her undergarments on. His shoulders slumping, he watched her with a frown as she laid down the general theme of the game she was playing.

"Huff puff," Phillipe murmured a curse, his eyes licking over her shoulders and chest, her legs thinly veiled by the fabric of her shift. Now, he could no longer remember what the game was or why he was playing it, his lust winning out above all else.

Phillipe stayed on the ground and he crawled around the fire towards her, the roll of his shoulders lazy and predatory, the slow stretch of his legs graceful. The look in his eyes was both hungry and subservient, like he was beholden to her every whim and will, yet starving for her at the same time. He said nothing as he came upon her knees, kissing her through the delicate fabric, panting softly as he continued to climb, leaving a trail of kisses.

Kissing her shoulder, he finally made it up to her face, his eyes grown dark with lust as he whispered against her neck and cheek, scratching her lightly with his facial hair. "You dare challenge me?" he asked, letting out a hoarse groan. "I'm a slave to you, woman...." Hands aching to touch her slithered along her ankles, trailing up her calves to her thighs, fingers forcing them open. "Your arguments are compelling. Thank you for helping me to see reason..."

The elk was definitely almost done; the juices bubbling from the middle were no longer red with blood, signaling that it was cooked enough to eat. The smell of the meat had spread throughout the campsite; it smelled delicious, Ada admitted, but her appetite had vanished. Her gaze flickered from the elk back through the flames to Phillipe's face, musing over the look of distress on his face as he tried to make up his mind.

Sensible. Yeah right.

He crawled towards her and she watched him, her face stoic and unreadable. She allowed him to touch and kiss, but as soon as he seemed ready to continue she pressed her foot out - shoe still missing - and placed it lightly on his chest, effectively holding him back from her.

Ada's eyes rolled over him for a moment, her lips lightly pursed, before meeting his blue with her tawny. Although she kept it from her face, her heart was beating as if she'd just run a mile. It was thrilling to see him this way. "Dinner is ready," she said lightly and nudged her head in the direction of the meat. "We've got to eat or else it'll go to waste, Mr. Sensibility." She put some pressure on her toes so they curled over his collarbone. "Go on. I'm hungry."

Ada woke up the morning after, half dressed, and curled up beside an equally clothed Phillipe, who was still fast asleep with his back to her. She considered him for a few moments, enjoying the sight of him while it lasted, before straightening her clothing and sidling out of the shack. Before straightening up the little camp they'd made, she collected her dress from the fireside and pulled it over her head, cheeks flushing.

They really had...

Lips pursed, she began cleaning up the mess from dinner. Although they'd properly wrapped and stored the meat (*internal laughter*) after their little dance in the shack, their bags were still rifled through from the preparations. Phillipe's bag was, in particular, still a mess from the beet juice, but was now dry so it could be dealt with.

The sun was barely peeking through the canopy of leaves above. Ada breathed a heavy sigh at the feeling of its warm rays brushing her skin. Her body was sore, for more than one reason, but she felt very much alive in a way that she never had before. Her tawny eyes glanced back at Phillipe, who was just waking up. She craved him in a new way now. Perhaps he'd been right about being sensible. Perhaps they shouldn't have.

A smile tugged at her lips. Too late now.

"We should get moving," she called to him while tossing his belongings back into his bag. Some of the contents were sticky, so she wiped them off with a rag before replacing them into the rucksack. "The sooner we get through this next trial, the sooner we get another night to ourselves," she added slyly, knowing full well that those words would get him up much faster.

The morning after, Phillipe awoke with a new sense of himself, rolling over and blinking his eyes with a deep inhale. He couldn't feel Ada in the bed beside him but a new perception had taken over. He could hear and smell her just outside the shack, gathering up their things from dinner, and in some vague, ethereal way, he could feel her. In his minds eye he could see where she was in relation to him and the shack, her movements coinciding with the sounds of her packing. Sitting up, he blinked at her through the doorway to see if she was where he predicted or if he was just making things up in his head. Sure enough, there she was, casting a sly smile in his direction and urging him out of bed.

Not without a little reluctance, he got up, finding his tunic tossed aside in the shack and slipping it back on. While she packed their things outside, Phillipe gathered the blankets, stepping outside with a crooked grin. "Can you think of nothing but my body, woman?" he asked, playfully affronted. "I'd think you'd've had your fill last night." Coming up behind her as she stood, his arms slipped around her, holding her as he nuzzled behind her ear and whispered, "Maybe I should do a better job of 'feeding' you. So you'll not be hungry for days...or able to walk properly." Breathing deeply of her, she smelled intensely of him and he found himself briefly embarrassed and excited. The wolf inside him was possessively proud and the human side of him was sick as a result of how jubilant the other side was.

He could barely hide the look of giddiness from his face as he turned her to face him and kiss him. The kiss was soft and quiet compared to the passion of the night, and as a result was so much sweeter. Drawing back, he smirked and agreed, "Let's go, yeah."

Ada melted into his arms, feeling as if they were formed and bent in such a way that they fit her body perfectly. His breath at her ear caused prickling sensations across the nape of her neck and his words sent heat into her cheeks. Was it possible for it to be better? She was already pretty satisfied as it was, but she liked the sound of 'better.'

"I mentioned nothing of your body," she said dismissively, though there was a grin on her lips. "If anyone is hungry, it's you - reading between the lines as you are."

The blissful kiss lifted her spirits. They set off back down the road they'd been following, heading towards the territory of the Fog Walkers. As they drew nearer, the land became more slick and the road more sticky. Ada's boots kept getting caught in the thick sludge and she was forced to move to the opposite side of the road to keep herself from tripping. She's found herself glancing at Phillipe much more often than she had in the past. Occasionally the thoughts were loving and pure. Occasionally they were a little different.

"Well, here comes the fog," she said, her tawny eyes landing upon the impending, nearly opaque fog ahead of them. She immediately felt threatened by the sight, knowing that the moment they entered they were at a disadvantage. These wolves knew their territory well Andrew were likely to see unkindly to strangers. Ada skipped back across the mucky road and grabbed hold of Phillipe's hand; her other found the knife at her thigh, her fingers wrapping the hilt.

As they walked together, Phillipe couldn't keep his eyes off of the redhead. He felt inexorably drawn to her, like a magnet, his attention fixated on what she was doing and feeling. The way her hair looked as the daylight came upon them; her skin, speckled as it was, so creamy and smooth; the way her body moved under the dress she wore. He barely noticed the terrain changing until he was slipping in mud, his feet barely catching him from falling. After the first heart-stopping slip, he started to pay more attention to where his feet were going but still, his eyes always found his beloved.

At her declaration of fog, Phillipe once again found his eyes drawn away from her to look ahead at the mists crawling over the path. Oh, right. He was supposed to be on alert because they were going into territory with another pack of wolves. A thrill zipped through him as Ada skipped lightly across the path where she had been walking to be closer to him, her hand slipping into his with obvious nervousness. Trying not to smile too widely, Phillipe sniffed in a cocky manner and held himself taller as he walked along the path with.

"Aw, don't be anxious, love," Phillipe said with a cocksure grin. "Most wolven packs choose their own names and they do so with the intent to let you know who they are and what they do before you even meet them. Take the 'Red Hand' pack for example; red hands because they steal from travelers but usually without them knowing; also red hands because they have no compunction about killing and getting blood on their hands. It gives the impression of ruthless, merciless theft."

Shrugging at the deepening fog with a distant wave of his hand, Phillipe snorted flippantly. "These lot call themselves 'Fog Walkers'. What? Because they walk in the fog? Ooo, clever. I wouldn't be too worried. This'll probably end up being the easiest part of our journey. The five brothers are notoriously more business-like and refined. ...So I hear."

"You think so?" Ada asked, a nervous relief finding her tensed stomach.

Regardless of Phillipe's confidence, however, there was something about this part of the Silverthorn that made her skin crawl. There was little noise in the air - no birds or small mammals buzzing about; between the deafening silence and the lack of airflow, Ada felt like she couldn't breathe.

They broke into the fog blindly, the pathway under their feet becoming harder and harder to see. With such low visibility Ada felt like she was walking through a dreamscape, her sense of direction disappearing, her confusion increasing. Sounds occasionally struck through the dense air: snapping twigs, distant footsteps, muffled voices. The redhead came to a sudden halt as a growl sounded to her left. Her fingers eagerly drew her knife and she pressed closer to Phillipe, her grasp upon him tightening.

The beast, concealed by the fog, was evidently circling them, his small movements and voice heard from all sides. A loud snarl behind them. Ada swung around, eyes wide with adrenaline, but the creature didn't appear. Instead there was a terrible clatter, some sort of struggle, and then the bloodcurdling wail of an injured animal.

"These parts of the woods aren't safe, you know," came a voice from the direction of the fight. A shrowded figure could be dimly seen behind them, standing rather tall and thin.

"We are searching for the Fog Walkers," Ada replied, unsure of the man. "We were told their leader may have some information we are seeking."

The figure moved forward enough where he could be seen more clearly, though still somewhat concealed amidst the fog. He seemed to be older than them, perhaps by a decade, and had swooping red hair much like Ada's. His eyes, which were a deep forest green, scanned the two without expression, though lingering on their interlocked fingers for a moment too long. "You are lucky to be alive," he sighed. "My pack is at war with another at the moment, despite our peaceful intentions. They wish for our marshlands and they'll attack anyone in the fog."

"You are a Fog Walker?" Ada inquired, brows furrowing. He did indeed seem much more welcoming than the Red Hand. Perhaps Phillipe had been right all along.

The stranger nodded. "You have come to speak with the Master, then. I regret that he is very busy with our trading network, but he is likely to be free of his obligations later tonight. If you wish, I will take you to our residence. We have very little hospitality to offer for food is scarce around these parts, but I don't anticipate you staying long. Shall we?"

Phillipe was about to eat his own words as the growling started in the fog, anxiety rippling through him as he realized how defenseless they were in the thick of the whiteness. Drawing his own dirk in defense as well, he faced whatever direction the beast was in, pushed by a core deep desire to protect his bonded beloved. All the while, even as Ada curled closer to him, he never let go of her hand.

When the stranger appeared, Phillipe relaxed but only somewhat. It was not a wolfen he recognized and there was something off about his manner and story that Phillipe just couldn't put his finger on. Ada seemed all too happy to take the lead, making their intentions known and organizing a meeting with the Fog Walker's "Master" and even though the bloke seemed to oblige them well enough, Phillipe still held back that last ounce of trust.

"What's the name of the rival pack?" Phillipe asked, giving the man a sideways look and then putting on an unassuming grin. "I might've heard of them." Even though he'd never heard of the Fog Walkers, he was watching closely to see what the man had to say. Something in Phillipe's gut told him there wasn't even a rival pack although what evidence he had to base this on, he had no idea. "Seems odd that they get to operate with such freedom in your marshes as well." Aside from the fact that anyone would even want the marshlands to begin with.

The stranger glanced at Phillipe, obviously unperturbed by his comments concerning the rival pack. "Like I said, food is scarce," he replied with an indifferent shrug of his broad shoulders. His eyes briefly passed over the two before returning to meet Phillipe's gaze. "Recently a section of our pack broke off in order to find a more fertile land. When they discovered that much of the Silverthorn was already inhabited, however, they returned hungry for power. It's a civil war. There are not many of us left anymore."

He was a smooth liar, his words dripping from his silver tongue like sweet poison. Although there were plenty of food options in and around the marshes, the pack simply couldn't eat them. Food was scarce, in this context, considering that their curse prevented them from eating anything born within the Silverthorn. The talk of the civil war, however, was all lies meant to bring wary travelers into their dens, to make them believe that they would be safe from the rival pack. The stranger could smell the wolf in the male traveler, so he was inclined to believe that he would be inedible, though that wouldn't stop them from trying.

The girl, though... She was definitely human. But what was this? The stranger glanced briefly at Ada, sniffing lightly. It was hard for him not to smile. Ah. They had courted recently; she bore his scent in a very recognizable way. The two looked as if they'd been in a fight recently, and judging by the direction of their arrival it had definitely been with the Red Hand. Satisfied with his catch, the stranger nudged his head in the direction of the Fog Walker camp. "If you follow me, I can lead you to my people," he said and began walking off to the left, the fog enveloping him almost immediately. "You can call me Az."

Ada was vastly uncomfortable with following the Fog Walker, but she didn't see much of a choice in the matter. Despite the warnings going off in her head, they needed to talk to the Big Badd's brother if they wanted to get anywhere. "I don't like this," she murmured to Phillipe. "At the first sign of danger, let's book it. Revenge is only realistic if we're alive." Tawny eyes hard and decided, she tugged at his hand to follow Az into the fog.

He didn't really know what to do with that explanation. Was it a rival pack or a civil war within the same pack? Phillipe supposed he was being paranoid and that it could technically be both but there were other things that just didn't add up with what this fellow was saying. Were they all dying because of the fighting or because food was scarce? And if things were so hard in the marshlands, why would the splinter group return to try to take over? Unless the Fog Walkers were too weak to resist them for very long, which Phillipe doubted, just from the simple fact of who their leader was. Then why were they all fighting to be King of the Land of Suck in the Silverthorn?

Despite not arguing or challenging the stranger anymore, Phillipe was just as unsettled as Ada was. However, when she asserted that she was willing to abandon her quest if things became too dangerous, he felt a flood of defensiveness surge within him. After everything...and to just leave if it all became too much? What about the hit on the farm? Who was really behind it? Why had they done it? And not knowing the answers to these questions, how could they ensure it wouldn't happen again? Not only would an escape with their lives mean all that they'd risked to that point had meant nothing but it would also put them in the helpless position of becoming victims again. That was not how Phillipe wanted to start his life with his beloved.

If it came down to it...Phillipe would risk his life to protect her and help her reach the end of her quest. Even if he died, she could go home, armed with the knowledge to protect her family's farm from further harm. "Aye," Phillipe said to Ada, his voice low so the stranger just ahead of them in the fog couldn't hear. "Sounds like a plan. Although if we can find a chance to bargain...let's take it." Not bothering to mention that he was willing to put himself on the table.

He glanced at her, his heart filling with love even as her features were drawn with stress and he disentangled their fingers to put his arm around her and pulling her close. It was too treacherous of footing to walk like that, so they stopped briefly for Phillipe to nuzzle her neck and kiss her. He knew they were supposed to be following the cloaked figure of Az up ahead, and they had to keep up as they could barely see him as it was...but the wolven couldn't help himself. Even as defensive and protective as he was feeling, he couldn't keep his hands and lips off of her. "You smell so good," he murmured, clearing his throat as he drew away, trying to focus his stupid animal brain on the task in front of them.

Jogging a little to try to catch up to the shadow ahead of them in the fog, Phillipe shouted, "Oi! Hang on a minute! We can't see you!" He hoped the Fog Walkers camp wasn't too far, his boots drenched in sopping, muddy water.

Ada could hear the unease in Phillipe's voice, could feel it in his fingers as he wrapped an arm around her. She didn't like never knowing what to do, what to say, how to feel; but that was how the Silverthorn worked. Nothing was predictable. Nothing was ideal. She fingered the hemline of his tunic as they unsteadily walked through the mud, happy that he was here but guilty that he was suffering for her. All for revenge? As angry as she was, as hurt as she was - was it all really worth it?

A blush came over her cheeks at Phillipe's gentle nuzzles and her heart began to flutter as thoughts of the previous night filled her head. She suddenly stepped away from him to keep him at an arms length away, unable to quench the thirst to be touched by him. "You made me smell like this," she gushed and snapped her face away from him to conceal her expression.

Az was waiting for them a little ways ahead, his sharp green eyes watching them as they drew nearer. It was satisfying to see the way they looked at each other, embarrassed and attentive; young lovers were the most fun to break. He swallowed back his sinful desires and allowed his face to remain slack and emotionless. "Please do not dawdle," he said coldly. "We are approaching camp and my comrades will attack if you are too far from me."

Once they were close enough together for Az's liking, they continued a little further through the mud, which seemed to be growing thicker by the second. They arrived at the camp not long after and were greeted by what seemed like a floating village. Small huts and structures sat atop the marsh waters, supported by the trees they were built around. Each building was connected by intricate wooden walkways, some slick with water and moss. Positioned in the center of the village was a larger building that was built higher above the water, suspended by ropes and supported by a massive, ancient looking tree.

"I've brought guests," Az said to a passerby who had paused to consider the group. "I found them near the war zone."

"Give them a space in the Den," the passerby replied with a glance at Phillipe. "Make sure they understand the rules."

"They wish to speak to the Master."

This caused the other to flinch. "I see," he murmured. "I will pass along the message."

"We don't normally allow guests," Az explained as he led them through the mazed walkways. "We are very territorial - our people believe this land is sacred ground - so we like to keep to ourselves. Of course, our stake in this land would be tainted if we let travelers be slaughtered in our war, for the deaths of many cause humans to get restless; restlessness brings guns." A grim expression crossed his face but it disappeared quickly. "Regardless, you are safe for the time being. If you had come before the war had started, however, you would not have been welcomed so kindly."

He showed them to a building on the edge of the floating village - only one walkway led up to it - and guided them inside. There was a main room where blankets and furniture sat cold and unused, then several rooms off to the sides. "You can take any one of these rooms," he said with pursed lips. "This used to be our nursery, but there are no pups here any longer." Az's green eyes flickered between the two of them. "Our Master is very strict about visitors, since it is not a usual practice. You will not be allowed to sleep in the same room, though you are welcome to visit with each other while you await the Master's summons. I also ask that you keep all belongings in this central area." His eyebrows furrowed. "Including weapons."

Things just kept getting weirder, the further they went. It wasn't that they got looked at by those within the camp; afterall, that'd happened with the Red Hand. Newcomers were worthy of note. It was rather the way the reactions didn't match up to what was said. Phillipe was hypersensitive, not knowing any of the wolven here but even still, red flags kept flying up with every new interaction and piece of information.

Then there was the stuff Az said about the land being sacred. That was certainly different and for a criminal organization such as the Hund, it felt out of place to him. Never before had he ever heard anything close to religiousness among his people, back when he'd lived their ways. Humans were full of superstition and religion and it was one thing Phillipe found both odd and endearing about them; their desire to believe. To hear it from a wolfen, speaking in terms of "sacredness" and "taintedness" it was a little bizarre. Phillipe understood the core of what he was saying but there was something underneath that.

The hair on the back of Phillipe's neck stood on end as they were shown to the abandoned nursery. Not just from the faint and faded smell of youth in the rooms, like dead memories still talking in ghostly whispers on his nose, but the fact that Az matter of factly intoned that the rooms were no longer used. Why? What the hell was wrong with these wolven? A pack without some semblance of recruitment, either from the women in the group or new youth being enlisted, was a dying pack indeed.

It was very clear that they were not being told something and as soon as Az went through his little list of demands, Phillipe had grown fed up of the dance. "Yeah, okay, we're not gonna do that," he said with a snippy nod and shrug. "I'm sure you're aware, this is my bonded mate and I'll not sleep with a wall between us. If you all have some weird religious reason for wanting to keep us virtuous, then fine, we'll make a bond right now that we'll remain chaste until we leave. It's fine. But you'll not tell me I can't sleep in the same room as her." He glanced at Ada, not really caring if he sounded like an obstinate jerk but the truth was, he didn't like the idea of Az trying to separate them under the veil of hospitality. Something about that didn't feel right, even with how close the rooms in the nursery were.

And just to be that extra bit uncooperative, Phillipe sniffed and perched on the edge of a table, saying, "Don't worry about where our weapons are. We'll not be staying long enough for it to matter. We just need to talk to your leader and then we'll be gone and moving on." Phillipe patted his belt where his dirk sat, dangling by his thigh. "My dirk'll stay right here, snug in it's place, because I trust I'll not have a reason to use it. You all being so friendly right now during the war time and all." Phillipe flashed him a impudent grin. "And if that's not good enough, then you're welcome to try to take it from me and put it where you want it. I mean it's not like we're prisoners. Right?" The last was said with his smile slightly fading, his blue eyes looking hard at the other man. "We'll meet with your Man and then we're gone. Not even enough time to sully these quarters with too intimate sleeping arrangements. Yeah?" If he was a prudish, religious nut, then that should be motivation enough to get them what they wanted.

This was the problem with trying to fool fellow wolven: they were too smart, too used to the ways of the Silverthorn to fall for such a bland story. Az's expression remained unchanged throughout Phillipe's speech, but inside he was getting excited. Those who caused trouble were always the first to go, because their rantings killed the illusion of trust and safety that allowed this entire operation to work. Of course, they'd have to taste his blood first to see if it was even worth butchering him for a meal. Why do the work when you can't even eat it? The girl, on the other hand, she was definitely edible.

"You challenge me rather easily," Az mused with a delighted, ominous smile, "considering where you now stand in my territory." He paused to consider them for a moment. "I am more than aware that you are bonded," he continued, "which is interesting considering your opposing heritages, but regardless I do not make the rules - the Master does. Celibacy is not the issue, it is simply a rule from the Master. If you wish to speak to him, your meeting may go more favorably knowing you followed the rules."

Truth be told, it was simply much easier to deal with prisoners when they didn't have each other to lean on for support. Separating them also made for more fun beforehand. Az could feel himself salivating. The wolfen could be drugged and taken to the women; the genetics of the pack had become too weak to successfully breed, so any captured wolven was usually kept until they provided viable offspring. They could kill him later, considering he was less likely to cooperate. Ah. There were so many more things they could do to the human. Fear, pain, humiliation - those expressions would look lovely on her speckled cheeks. And then, when they were finished with her, she'd made a decent meal.

"If you feel so inclined, you may keep a weapon on your person." Az's sharp green eyes flickered from Phillipe to stare holes into Ada. "It would seem that your beloved is a little too protective. We mean you no harm, but if he continues to act in such a way we will see it as a threat." His smile disappeared and he returned his attention to both of them. "A small meal will be prepared for you for lunch. Please do not leave this Den unless accompanied. We will collect you when the Master is available."

Ada watched Az leave, her chest tight. "Maybe you shouldn't have been so harsh," she said warily while dropping the majority of her belongings upon a table. "Something is wrong with this place. Did you see the way he was looking at me?" A shiver passed through her and, trying to calm her nerves, she chose a room off to the left of the entrance. The room was small, but a proper bed sat upon the floor. Overjoyed at the sight she rolled down into the bed, rubbing her face into the clean smelling sheets. "Now this is more like it," she purred happily.

"Aye, I did," Phillipe murmured distractedly as he stood up from the table and looked at the door Az had gone through. More red flags. He couldn't help but feel like they were being threatened. That seemed fairly typical of a pack regarding strangers, but again there was the sense of Az not telling them something. And then of course, there was the hungered way he kept looking at Ada.

Making up his mind, Phillipe bit his lip and glanced at Ada. "Oi, I'll be right back," he said. "I'm just going to...follow..."

Standing in the doorway to the room she had chosen, Phillipe looked down at Ada sprawled on her stomach on the bed, delighting in the luxury of good bedding for once. Everything he'd been talking about went out the window as his eyes licked pathways up her calves to her backside, perky and round in the thin dress she wore. Crouching down, Phillipe crawled onto the bed, her feet between his hands as he bent low and nipped her backside through the fabric. A thrill of pride and delight swirled through him at the sound of surprise she made, and he crawled the rest of the way up before she could move out of position.

Fingers, slender and slightly dirty from their travels, curled around the hair at her shoulders, gently moving it aside to expose her neck and shoulders. That's where his lips went next, planting deep, agonized kisses at her skin, his shaggy blonde hair moving out of the way as he nuzzled her desperately. She was his and he loved it, his body and hands moving low to keep contact, always touching her.

"We don't have time for this right now," he complained and then proceeded to ignore himself as his right hand began to drag at her thighs, her dress riding up slightly with the motion.

As soon as he disappeared from the Den, Az's expression hardened. His gate lengthened as his stomach pressed him to find something to eat. His capture of the couple had left him salivating heavily and his body yearned for the taste of flesh. He made his way across the camp, slipping into one of the buildings off the main path: the kitchen. Preservation of meat was something the Fog Walkers had perfected over time, considering that finding proper meals throughout the year - especially during winter - was rare.

Weaving around the hanging partitions that separated the dining area from the rest of the kitchen, Az found what he was looking for. Strung up on the back wall was a leathery, not entirely tasteful jerky. He'd never become used to the taste of human flesh, still preferring the smell of rabbit or squirrel (though once in his stomach they poisoned his system), but hunger was a cruel master that needed fulfillment. He tore a long strip from the oldest jerky and dug his teeth in, saliva dripping from his lips.

"There you are, Azazel," came a purring voice from the partitions. "I hear you brought us tomorrow's dinner."

"One of them is a wolf, Prue," Az replied between bites. "If the Master agrees, he'll be given to you and your sisters."

She seemed delighted by the idea, grinning ear to ear. "The Master wishes for them to attend tonight's dinner. He says that if they amuse him, he'll agree to talk with him."

"How cruel of him." His lips reflected hers. "To give them their answers before they die."


A shrill sound of surprise escaped Ada at the sudden pinch of pain. "Phillipe!" she exclaimed, and though she wanted to move to scold him, he was already over her. His kisses cast a prickly spell, which spread up and down her spine, across her skin. The sensations cast a bright warmth upon her face and ears and she pressed her face back into the sheets in an attempt to smother the sounds rising in her throat.

With every delicate touch her body recalled what he'd done to her and it sent her heart racing into overdrive. At his ginger caress at her thighs, Ada's own hand shot back from her side and gripped at his wrist to stop him. Her other arm moved to prop herself up a little, though her forehead still lingered on the bed, casting her brilliant red hair around her. "Are you teasing me?" she demanded, struggling to keep her breathing calm. "Everyone will hear us!"

Despite her words, Ada couldn't bring herself to push him away. Instead she lingered there in a state of confused anticipation, trying to straighten out her wild thoughts. After a few moments she released his wrist, but made no attempt to remove his fingers from her thigh. Of course she wanted him to touch her, regardless of how she was talking. "We don't have time for this right now," she echoed, though it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than him. "... do we?"

Drawing away from her, he righted his clothes and glanced at the door, suddenly remembering what he'd planned to do. Crap. He'd meant to secretly follow Az through the maze of walkways, to see what he did or where he went, to get to the bottom of the secret the other wolfen kept dancing around. So much for that now. Looking back at Ada, there was a part of him that couldn't regret his decision to stay rather than go.

"I wonder if lunch is ready yet," Phillipe said, waiting for Ada to make herself presentable before opening the door to their room.