WOW. Thirty chapters... insane. Thanks to everyone who's been with this story since the beginning!

I'm glad to hear Ryley is growing on you all, he's becoming one of my favorites as well.

And for those of you wondering why Ryley and Orihime have been spending more time together, please remember that while this IS an Ichihime story, I have no plans to just jump into anything. And keep in mind that Ryley is her fiancee, I personally think it would be weird if she didn't spend any time with him. Everything is planned out in my head and if you are looking for a quick and cheerful happy ever after then I'm afraid this story just isn't for you.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Bleach or any of its characters

Lets jump back in-

Grimmjow's hand was rough. My calluses caught on his and scratched in an unpleasant way. And yet his hands were also smooth; soft in the places a sword hilt didn't lay. It made me wonder how skilled a soldier he truly was.

"Do you find many dancing occasions, Goldie?" Grimmjow asked softly, as he spun me away from my betrothed. "It seemed you had done it every day of your life."

"I'm a quick learner," Came my purred response.

His teeth flashed, pulling me in close enough for me to feel his hot breath on my brow, "A woman like you needs to be taught more valuable things. I would be happy to show them to you."

A corner of my lip pulled up, almost involuntarily. Not at the words, or their implications, but at the cause of such words. I could tell by the way he placed his hand on my lower back, his fingers settled over the curve of my behind, and the way his eyes would linger on the low cut neckline of my gown, that he had a primal attraction. Not with my mind, or even with me at all, but with the cage that held my soul. With my body that had grown beautiful despite the rotting core within.

And I smiled because I could use such a weakness.

I allowed myself to slip even closer to his broad chest, so close the tips of my breasts brushed him when I breathed, I knew he could feel it. "It is a true shame then, that I am already spoken for."

I felt his head turn in the direction we had left Ryley, "The binding words have not yet been said; you still belong to us all." Possessive.

"I have heard how Northerners bed their women, and if those rumors are true, then I don't think I will need to stray from my marriage bed for much of anything." I threw a glance towards Ryley, who was speaking to a group of older men, a cup of wine in his hand untouched. I turned my calculating look into one of subdued want, and was thankful he was not watching to see its falseness. I held it long enough for Grimmjow to notice it, and then even longer, waiting. Waiting.

And then his fingers found my cheek and moved my gaze back to him. I blinked from my false daze, feeling a deep blush rise to my face.

"One night with me, and all you'll be thinking of in that bed is thoughts of the South." Persuasive.

I shook his touch from my face, "I have seen much of Southern men, and I'm afraid they all fell rather... short."

Grimmjow snarled a low growl from deep in his throat, "Then, I will erase all of those men from your mind." Defensive.

"I've lived my entire life in the company of warriors from every corner of the world. West, East, North, South. Men of every shape, size and color. Yet they have all failed to satisfy me," The words tasted like dirt in my mouth. But the dark, greedy shadow that overtook my partners face, made the nausea well worth it. For the unspoken question was clear: How are you any different from the rest?

"You will scream my name, Heir. You will claw my back in your desperation and I shall wear them as badges of honor. And I will not stop until every piece of your body belongs to me." Jealousy.

It was the final straw, the final brick in my stone house of safety and warmth. Away from his bitter cold. I pressed closer, rising up on my toes, his hands tightened their hold, only strengthening his clear miscalculation. I licked my lips, letting my breath ghost over the hollow of his ear, and his body went taut, blood no doubt rushing far below. He did not shy from my sharp, predator teeth as they barred. "My father would never allow it… He would skin us both for even wanting it. Lucas is his beloved friend, it was no coincidence that Clark arranged for me to marry his son." Carefully, Orihime. Carefully. Grimmjow turned his head once more, his power shoulders tensing as he glanced behind us, to where Clark sat, loud and cheerful, the woman nothing more than a piece of decoration.

My breasts brushed his chest once more, my neck moving back slightly as we turned, lengthening. I was careful not to look at him, careful not to show anything but blank indifference.

Grimmjow was a general, same as me, but he had the advantage of being a man. And Clark would respect his opinion solely because of it. So, if Grimmjow were to mention that now was not the time for the Heir to marry, that this war would need all of my immediate attention, my father might listen. And Grimmjow would only do such a thing if he thought he was getting something from it, would only do it if he believed I would open for him, in the way all men craved.

But I needed to tread carefully. For Grimmjow might come off as having low intellect, but he was no doubt use to manipulation. Use to the way people pushed and pulled him for their needs. One false step, a glance holding the wrong emotion, and it would all crumble around me.

I returned my focus to my steps, pulling back again to return the platonic distance between our bodies. A close to the idea, a shutting of the door he thought he had wiggled open.

He did not say another word, he did not try to pull me close, and I could basically hear the wheels turning inside his sandy head.

We danced in silence for the remainder of the song. I was thankful when the music stopped, and Grimmjow bowed at the waist slightly before sinking back into the crowd. I breathed a sigh of relief, deciding I would follow his lead and remain invisible for the rest of the night.

I should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

The next song began and an elderly man stepped in front of me, his hand extended in invitation. I forced myself to smile, and accept his hand. It was not as graceful to dance with the old man, he had lost the strength to lead me properly, and we mostly swayed to the soft hums of the flutes.

It continued that way for what felt like hours. One song would end and my partner would slip away, only to reveal another line of waiting suitors. Most were elders from the North, all very excited for my marriage to their youngest heir. They all offered their congratulations, and some even claimed to have met me all those years ago. I remembered none of them but smiled and told them of the trip I was allegedly planning.

But there were a few from Bellator. I could tell by the scent of roses and steel long before they mentioned it. They were more quiet in their approval, their tones soft and careful. I couldn't decide if it was fear, or respect that brought out the words. And I felt I didn't much want either.

Hours and hours of twirling. No one even asking if I wanted a break, no one seeming to care that my throat was parched, or that my back was beginning to ache. I could feel myself growing less polite, barely even looking at the men who stepped upon, one after the other. Could tell the mask was slipping from my face and I didn't care.

A new partner took my hand, and spun me with a strength I had been missing in the arms of old men. Bringing me back to his chest once more, I looked up into the face of my unknowing rescuer.

"Cuyler," I gaped.

Cuyler Vilantrio was as handsome as my sixteen year old self remembered. With cheekbones that could cut glass, and a smile that set even my cold heart skipping. His teeth were bright against his tan skin as he grinned down at my surprised face.

"Orihime Inoue. I never pegged you as a woman to ever need saving."

I flashed my own teeth in a wicked smile, "I've been put on good behavior. Which means not to gut all those who annoy me."

Cuyler chuckled, deep and masculine, "So that explains why my baby brother is still in one piece."

I glanced to where Ryley had once been, and found him already watching us. His face was calm but his lips perched in an irritated fashion. When he noticed my attention, he lifted a corner of his mouth, and looked away.

Something like guilt hit me right in the gut. "He's the most well mannered of all your brothers. If any other of you lot had been sent to me, I don't think you'd have faired so well."

"I'll be sure to let Garth and Brandt know you say so. Maybe it will ease their broken hearts a little."

"And were they the ones who cornered my poor betrothed?"

Cuyler seemed shocked that Ryley had mention it, but he recovered flawlessly. "'Cornered' seemed like such a harsh word. We were merely trying to warn him."

So, he'd been there. I didn't let the girlish glee show, "Warn him of what exactly,"

He turned us again, and his face turned serious as he said, "That sometimes the most beautiful of beasts, turn out to be the most deadly."

Such a double edged compliment. I hated how much it rang true, but also loved the slight fear he had for me. I knew how twisted that made me. "That isn't the story I heard." I chortled. He tilted his head, an invitation to continue. "I heard a few of you were very distraught at not being chosen to ride West for marriage, and that Ryley was cornered as a means to learn why he had won the right."

Cuyler smirked, his head shaking slightly as he thought back to the night in question. His hand slid up the back of my dress, his fingers smoothing over the interlacing wounds, my breath caught.

"I suppose there had been a few arguments from my younger brothers, who felt they had earned at least the right to be considered by you."

"But not you?" The words were out before I could consider their implications. I clenched my teeth as he observed me, no doubt thinking through all the meanings my words had.

"Me? No I could never be foolish enough to believe I possess the strength to cage a beast as wild as you." He leaned in, his breath tickling my ear, "I wouldn't have had the heart to anyway. Animals like us, are meant to roam free, stopping only to feed on those too slow to outrun us."

His words set a fire in my blood. His touch like lightning pumping through my skin. Equal, equal, equal- it seemed to say.

I could have lived within those words, those feelings forever. If not for the ones I heard in the voices around us.

Whore. Traitor. Wench.

I glanced sideways, over Cuyler's shoulder and into the crowd. Eyes of every color watched us. And I had not noticed how close our bodies had gotten, flush together with not even an inch to spare. Cuyler's mouth at my ear, breathing words too low for any of them to hear- worse that way. For in their minds he could be saying anything.

I pulled back, having to force my eyes away from the crowd. Cuyler looked at me with uncertainty. I opened my mouth, to say what, I didn't know.

Her legs must open as wide as her mother's.

It hit me like a slap to the face, and I stumbled back. Cuyler was saying my name, reaching for me. But I suddenly felt like the walls were closing in on me. As if the people drawing closer and closer until I could feel their breath on my skin, though they hadn't moved at all.

Whore. Traitor. Wench.

Whore. Traitor. Wench.

Whore! Traitor! Wench!

I pushed past Cuyler, and broke through the crowd. Shoving people out of my way until I broke through and had a straight line to the door. The words followed me, still. Even when ascended into the hall and escaped into the night.

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Till next time-