Within ten minutes, she reached a small cottage, with a tiny garden hewn around its edges. Once inside, she laid the child onto a soft, but small feather mattress and immediately went to the hearth. The cottage was only one room, and smelled strongly of the herbs that hung from the rafters beside an assortment of cooking utensils. Colorful woolen blankets lined the wood walls, keeping the heat inside. After lighting the fire and starting a pot of water to boil, the woman lifted the child gently into her arms, watching it in sleep. The child’s skin was pure white, luminescent like the moon. Tiny blue veins stood out in sharp relief, like coursing rivers along its body. The fuzzy down on its crown was almost transparent, as were the lashes that fell nearly down to the soft, round cheeks. And the woman remembered the eyes, bright red like the heart of a fire. Aside from its coloring, the child seemed normal in every way. It had all ten fingers and toes. Its features were smooth and. When she felt his canines gently, very gently rake across her skin, she shuddered deeply, a soft cry full of need rushing past her lips. She'd wanted him so badly, for so long that even that was exquisite torture. Micheal leaned over her, inhaling the scent that was uniquely hers. All silver and gold, moonlight and spring rain with a hint of jasmine. A scent he'd recognize anywhere, even in a city of several hundred thousand. He fought the urge to drink from her; it’s not what he was here for. Not this time. He could feel her small body quiver against his, her suppressed need for him only serving to fuel his own for her. There was no more denying it. With a flick of his wrist he untied the knot at her waist and the silk robe slithered down her body to pool at her feet in a puddle of iridescent colours, giving Micheal a view of curves her every day clothing only hinted at. Though her frame was compact and well toned from training and fighting, there was nothing sleek about.
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