5

A half hour past Midnight, Ares woke up to terrible stomach cramps. She pushed aside her tattered blankets and went to the stinking privy hole that joined two of the Slave shacks. She tried to light a small ball of Witchlight, but her body screamed at the small effort. Wincing, she quickly found a candle and forced herself to take the pain as she lit the candle with a spark of witchfire and looked at her undergarment.

Blood.

Shit. She thought. Not now! I have House Duties this whole week. Ares frowned in annoyance and frustration. She retrieved a rag from the wash basin and cleaned herself. Then she changed her clothes and washed the cleaning rag.

She knew it was coming. There was nothing Ares could have done to stop her Moon Time. Even if she was able to create a Witch's Brew to hold it off, the pains would have been debilitating the next time it came back.

A witch was never more open for attack and danger than when during her three days of Moon Time. Ares had heard enough stories in the three weeks she'd been in slavery to know that the Moon Time was more of a danger to a witch of lesser status in an Aristo Society, much less a slave.

And now, from serving the House for a few days, she was able to understand the motives of the Lords and Ladies in the Building.

She would have to be very careful. Ares couldn't use her Craft to disguise the scent of her witch's blood, which signaled her time of weaknessespecially to males, or for any other purpose, for that matter, without being caught and presumably punished, whether it be by the Slave Masters or her own body.

The girl walked back to her sleeping roll with the tattered blanket and lay down. Five minutes later, her eyes opened and she had to sit up, the cramps returning. So she scooted herself over to the wall and leaned her back against it, sitting up and riding out the pain, staring through the window on the shot wooden door, watching the moon and stars.

Meanwhile, in the House, Malakaie lay awake, staring at the moon and stars through the window. It was warm out this night and the heat from the woman next to him was making it very uncomfortable. He glanced at the woman, an instant sneer crossing his beautiful face. Malakaie quietly and smoothly slipped out of the bed and pulled his discarded pants up from the floor andonto his waist,moving over to the window seat so he could stare at the sky and enjoy the early summer breeze.

He sat, tucking one leg under the other and inhaled deeply when a very much welcomed breeze lifted into the room, cooling his face and bare chest. It caused his long, slightly tousled raven's wing black hair to gently brush his cheeks and fall behind his back. The man smiled a strained but content smile and looked down at the yard. His focus darted from the trees in the dense woods not far from the property line, to the courtyard, and finally, settled on the shoddy dark shacks toward the back of the property.

His thoughts settled on Ares as soon as he saw the make-shift 'village'. He wondered how she was doing, sleeping in those stinking pits. He didn't like it that she was there and he was in the House with 'luxeries'. He couldn't help but think of her. That girl was a mystery that enticed him and made him need to know her better.

Malakaie had never really felt a pull such as this before.

He had felt it for a girl he knew very long ago, but it had never this strong.

He wondered, brieflly, if it was his Warlord Prince's instincts dictating this, or if it was something more.

Malakaie closed his eyes and let out a small sigh. Another breeze lilted into the room again, causing the Hayllian to take another deep breath.

Instantly his predatory instincts flew to the surface and his head snapped up as his eyes shot open. Immediately, his gaze settled on the dark shacks in the distance.

He could never mistake the scent of Witch's Blood.

But even more hauntingly, he couldn't mistake the reservoir of power underlying the blood scent.

Ares. The brave little witch.

Malakaie's eyes narrowed; the golden iris turning to hard yellow.

It must have just began, other wise the scent wouldn't be so strong. Hopefully no other male would be able to detect it. Maybe he could smell it because he had tuned himself to her psychic scent so well. Maybe that was what would make all the difference in keeping the girl safe from predators.

If the Darkness was merciful, that fact would make all the difference.

For the next three days, Malakaie decided he would have to keep a watchful eye on the young witch, for her sake and his instinct's.

yes, yes. I know I suck. Me and my short assinine chapters.

But I always love getting reviews from my Legions.

Malakaie is experiencing a little possessive hostility, I see. But this chapter felt a little hollow. Maybe I'll see if I can throw some adjectives in the mix.

like the Santa Claus Is Coming To Town special that was on a mere 10 minutes ago. they seemed to ahve no qualms just throwing scenes in they didn't show the several years before hand.

And let me tell you, I only have a handful of chapters pre-written after this because my muse for this story ran out about a month ago.

Shit. So I'll have to really start thinking about what happens next to appease you wonderful people.

and I'm not being sarcastic. YOU ARE WONDERFUL PEOPLE!

And on another note... I am currently hooked on Slayer. So I was rather disappointed when I couldn't think of a good song of theirs to go along with a name for this chappie.

But Metallica is always a safe and awesome bet to go on... so yes.

Even though they didn't originally do 'the Small Hours'

A band named Holocaust did.

But the 'Tallica version is better.

Until the Later!

Au revoir!