Author's note: Alright, I'm introducing a new character here, a character of my own creation from Cari's past. Just in case I did a pathetic job explaining him, his name is Martin. He's a cleric of Cyric, and not a nice man, :P I have gone through and updated this one too, to make it more believable, more realistic, and more adult, M-rated, regarding language and sexual references, so if anyone really wants the old version, let me know, though I can't imagine why anyone would, XD

Sometime during the night, Cari awoke, as suddenly and completely as though someone had smacked her in the head with a pot. She sat up and looked around, and the blanket that had been wrapped tightly around her shoulders fell to her waist. She started at a sudden, strange noise, and she looked down at Bishop sleeping beside her, looking warm and sated and snoring rather loudly.

Gods, ranger, don't scare me like that...

The air unexpectedly changed; she shivered slightly as the usually-warm temperature rapidly cooled, and a chilly breeze suddenly blew through the room. She stood up, slipped into her dressing gown, and lit the small candle on her bedside table. Bishop stirred slightly, then rolled over and sprawled out on his back, one arm stretched out above his head.

I swear, that man can sleep like a rock.

Rising from the bed, she crept over to her bureau and set the candle down, and watched as the light lit up the large mirror that hung in front of her. She gazed around the room and saw nothing out of the ordinary, save for the chair that she and Bishop had knocked over some time earlier. Shrugging, she leaned in to blow out the candle, and she barely stifled a gasp as she heard an abrupt movement in the shadows. She clenched her fists as a pair of icy hands closed around her shoulders.

"Ah, my dear Carianna," a deep voice whispered, "Just the woman I was looking for."

Oh, Gods, no... not now...

Trembling slightly, Cari looked up and saw a familiar pair of black eyes looking back at her in the mirror. "Hello, Martin," she said quietly, her lip tugging up into a sneer, "What are you doing here?"

The man called Martin leaned forward and nuzzled his smooth jaw against Cari's neck. His hair, as black as hers, shimmered slightly in the flickering candlelight. "I've missed you so…" he breathed, wrapping one arm around her waist to pull her back against his chest, "So beautiful..."

"I can tell," she groaned, disgusted, feeling something stiff press against her back. With some effort, she pulled out of his freezing embrace and turned to face him, having to tilt her head back to look him in the eye, as she had to do with Bishop. "What do you want?"

He straightened up, watching her curiously. He was a handsome man, tall and powerfully-built, with chiseled cheekbones and a strong jaw. His skin, pale as death, offset his thick, long black hair, but his eyes… Cari couldn't look away. His eyes were black, bottomless pits, dark, and cruel, revealing everything about him and yet nothing, all at once. She felt as if she were going to drown in them once more.

Martin let out a low chuckle. "What would any good cleric of Cyric need from his best assassin?" he purred, lightly tracing a finger along her shoulder. His long, waxen fingers slipped behind her to caress the back of her neck. "You've been quite hard to track down, you know-"

Bishop gave a loud grunt and rolled over, mumbling softly in his sleep. Cari and Martin both jumped and turned, and Martin's eyes narrowed as they fell on the Bishop's sleeping form, his bare chest slowly rising and falling in time with his breaths.

Damn it all! Cari thought to herself, having forgotten that Bishop was even in the room, Why tonight? Why tonight, of all nights? I thought I was rid of Martin!

"You wound me, girl," Martin said coldly, eyeing her with contempt, "To think that I am so readily replaced... Exactly how many months has it been?"

"Things might have been different if you hadn't bedded that wench from the temple, Corinne," Cari snarled, the angry flush in her cheeks evident, even in the low light, "So don't blame Bishop."

Martin sneered at her, his lip curling to reveal straight, brilliantly-white teeth. "Well, he doesn't need to hear our conversation," he said harshly, smiling cruelly as he raised his hand to start an invocation, "I hope you-"

In one swift movement, Cari snatched one of her swords from the ground, unsheathed it, and pressed the sharp blade against Martin's throat. "If you dare to finish that spell, cleric," she hissed, baring her teeth, "I swear I'll remove your ugly head from your shoulders."

Martin stopped and slowly turned his head to look at her, cocking an eyebrow. "Jumping to conclusions again, are we, my sweet?" he said softly, "Before you point swords, perhaps you should know what's actually going on. I was merely casting a spell that would silence our words. He doesn't need to hear what we're talking about. So you can drop the damn blade." Cari hesitated for a moment, and then slowly lowered her sword, keeping her eyes fixated on his. "And you needn't insult me. I know I'm not ugly."

Cari rolled her eyes, her body poised to strike as she watched him cast a shimmering globe around Bishop, who shifted slightly before going back to sleep. She let out a low, soft sigh of relief that turned into a startled gasp as Martin suddenly grabbed her sword arm and forced it behind her back, causing her blade to fall to the floor. She winced as she felt him shove her up against the nearest wall and pin her there with his body.

"All right now," Martin snarled, grabbing a chunk of Cari's hair and jerking her head back, looking at her the way one would look at a prized horse, "Down to business." Cari struggled against his hold on her as she felt his hot breath against her ear. "I am in need of your... services."

"Then go somewhere else," she snapped, grimacing in pain as she tried to turn her head away from him, which only resulted in him pulling her hair, "You have Cora, don't you? Go back to your whore."

Martin chuckled. "Not those services, Cari, though I must admit, I miss them." He released her hair and lightly wrapped his long fingers around her neck, softly stroking the hollow of her throat. "No, I need you to take care of a… problem."

Realizing that she wouldn't be free until he got the answer he wanted, she sighed and stopped fidgeting, her arm aching slightly from Martin's powerful grip. "What kind of problem?" she asked quietly, barely repressing a shudder as she noticed he was sniffing her hair, "Why do you need me? Can't you take care of it yourself?"

"If I could," he murmured, pressing his thumb against the underside of her chin, tilting her head back against his chest, "Why would I be here?" When Cari said nothing, reluctantly admitting to herself that he had a point, he continued, "A young nobleman in the Blacklake District discovered my temple. I need you to take care of him. I would do it myself, but he would recognize me, so the responsibility falls on you. I trust no other, and you know what will happen if my temple is discovered..."

Cari's heart sank. "They'll find out about... about me?" Martin nodded, smiling grimly, and she sighed. "I suppose I have no choice, then. How did he discover your temple in the first place? It's supposed to be hidden unless you're a follower. Or with one."

"He was... escorted," Martin said flatly, a sour look on his face, "Cora... brought him back."

"Cora brought him back," she repeated, snickering uncontrollably, "What, did she get sick of you too?"

Martin pursed his lips. "It's not funny, rose. He knows where our temple is now, and he can lead guards there. I want him taken care of as soon as possible."

Cari gave him a look. "I'll do it now, if you'll get the Hells off of me."

"Now would be perfect," Martin whispered, pleased by her answer, "However..." Cari wrinkled her nose as the hand on her throat shifted downward, to the belt of her dressing gown, "We haven't discussed your payment, rose." He tugged on the loose knot, and Cari started to squirm, trying to fight her way out of his grip, "I can't let you go off and do this out of the goodness of your heart, I'll owe you…"

"Don't touch me," she snarled, attempting to wrench her arm free, "You're not allowed to touch me." When he didn't move, she picked up one foot and pressed it against his shin. "You don't move by the time I count to three, I'll break your knee. One..."

Martin quickly took a step back, finally relinquishing his hold on her arm. "Fine," he said wearily, smoothing back the strands of hair that had fallen from his ponytail, "We'll do this your way." He smirked. "I'll still owe you though..."

"You want to pay me?" she murmured, gesturing for him to turn around as she lifted her leathers off a nearby chair, "Stay here and watch Bishop." She heard Martin make a noise of disgust as he turned his back on her. "Just in case he wakes up and I'm not here. There are things he needs to know."

"Like what?" he snapped, irritated, "I'm not here to look after your bed partners, Cari. It's not my fault if you chose one who'll wet himself or-"

"He called me 'rose,' Martin," she said quietly, quickly stepping into her armor and pulling it up over her shoulders, "He saw."

Martin paused and rolled his eyes. "Well, of course he saw," he said sarcastically, "Unless you fuck with your clothes on now." Cari threw him another look over her shoulder and resumed fastening the buckles of her leathers. "What did you expect? Unless it was dark, he's stupid or he's blind, he was bound to see it at some point. So-"

"He doesn't know what it means," Cari said sharply, cutting short his rant, "He just thinks of it as a tattoo. If he wakes up, explain it to him. I... I didn't get a chance to tell him before he... fell asleep," she finished lamely, scooping up her scabbards and tightening the belt around her hips.

"Fell asleep," Martin repeated, his tone disbelieving, "Did he fall asleep? Or was your mouth so full you didn't get a chance to explain it?"

Cari narrowed her eyes. "Fell asleep, you ungrateful bastard." She stomped over to the door and wrenched it open. "I'll be back soon. If I'm not here by sunrise, come looking for me. I doubt he'll be much trouble." She hesitated, and then smiled darkly. "And my mouth wasn't full because we haven't tried yet. I'll let you know if he fills my mouth up in the morning."

Laughing quietly to herself, she shut the door behind her, silencing anything Martin may have said in response. Within seconds, she had stepped out of the Flagon and into the chilly night air. The Docks were deserted, save for a handful of guards and a few cats, prowling for some unlucky mice.

Well, the sooner the better, she thought, pulling her hood up over her head, and the sooner I'm done, the sooner I'm back.

The sooner I can be back with Bishop...

--

Back at the Flagon, Bishop stirred in his sleep, his dreams again tempting him with thoughts of Cari writhing on the bed beneath him, her fingernails scratching at his back and her legs locked around his waist as he plunged himself deep inside her, over and over again. He woke up sweating and painfully hard.

At least I can do something about these damn dreams now, she's beside me…

He rolled over, stretched out an arm, and was surprised to hit something solid.

What in the Hells?

Startled, his eyes flew open and he was shocked to see that not only was he was encased in some sort of sphere, but that Cari's side of the bed was empty.

Damn that wench, she skipped out on me! Damn her!

He looked around through the globe, the images strangely distorted, and his eyes fell on a large, shadowy figure in a chair near the door. His heart started racing uncomfortably as the form walked over to the bed.

Great, I'm trapped and weaponless. Shit.

Why didn't I bring a weapon with me? Hells, I'm-

Wait... if I know Cari...

He quickly slipped his hand under her pillow, and he sniffed triumphantly as his hands closed around the hilt of a dagger.

Knew it. She's like me.

A moment later, the sphere dissipated, and Bishop found himself looking at a man he grudgingly had to admit was probably about as handsome as he was, just in a far creepier, colder, 'I'm going to devour your soul' kind of way.

In all my times I've been with a woman, I've never had a man in the room when I woke up.

Well, unless you count a couple of irate husbands...

All right, more than a couple...

He looked the other man over, quickly assessing if he were any threat. The man's jaw was clenched tight, his eyes narrowed, and he carried no sword, but his robes suggested that his preferred weapons were spells. The man's eyes flitted to the dagger in Bishop's hand.

"I'm a priest of the Black Sun," the man said, sarcasm and disdain dripping off his words, "Do you truly think you can stop me with a dagger?"

Bishop quickly whipped the blade around to point it at the man's head. "Have you ever tried casting a spell with a dagger embedded in your skull?"

The man was silent for a moment, and then he made some sort of noise, halfway between a snort and a chuckle. "You're Bishop, right?" the man drawled, looking rather haughty and bored. Bishop nodded, his body still tense, watching the other man's every move. "Your dear bedmate told me to keep an eye on you while she went out," the cleric continued, pulling a chair over so he could sit down, "But where are my manners? I'm Martin," he said ironically, extending a hand, "Despite how uncomfortable I'm sure you are, there's no reason not to be polite, is there?"

"I'm not uncomfortable," Bishop growled, reluctantly taking the offered hand and clasping the other man's wrist, "And I've never been one for manners."

"I can tell," Martin replied, grimacing as Bishop sat up and accidentally kicked the blanket down to his knees, "Would you kindly cover yourself? I didn't come here tonight to get an eyeful of... that."

Bishop raised an eyebrow and laughed derisively. "What, someone feeling inadequate? Realize that Cari wanted more than what you had to offer?"

Frowning, Martin swallowed, suppressing a gag. "No, you smelly ranger, it's... distracting. I'm actually here for a reason, not to gawk at... that."

"Then why are you here?" Bishop asked warily, narrowing his eyes and tucking the blanket back around his waist, "And I'm not doing this for you. It's cold in here."

"I'm overjoyed," Martin said sarcastically, leaning back in his chair, "As for why I'm still here, it's because my dear former flame has informed me that you saw that pretty little tattoo of hers."

"Which one?" Bishop casually started twirling Cari's dagger between his fingers. "The one on her back, her arm, her breast, her hip, or her-"

"Her hip," Martin said, massaging his temples with his middle fingers, "Mystra's saggy-Gods, you are annoying. The rose on her hip."

"Oh, that one." Bishop began picking at his fingernails with the tip of the dagger, more to pass the time than anything else. "What about it?"

"Though I'm sure I know the answer already," Martin said, condescension thick in his voice, "Do you know anything about it?" A brief moment of confusion flitted across Bishop's face, and he shook his head. "Didn't think so. Since you don't, it appears that I'll have to explain why you need to keep her tattoo between the two of you. Don't go telling everyone about it."

"So, it's not just something she got after drinking a tavern out of ale?" Bishop said sarcastically, a mocking smile on his face, "But since you, apparently, have some big story to tell, and I've got nothing better to do until Cari gets back, start talking."

"Watch your tone," Martin said coldly, his eyebrows knotting above his eyes to form one black, severe line, "This is important. It could mean Cari's death if you go shooting your damned mouth off." Bishop opened his mouth to protest, but Martin cut him off. "Her tattoo is a brand, you fool. Roses are these pristine, beautiful things, and when one is black, wilted, dead, it speaks of the corruption of that beauty. That's what her brand means." Martin's voice grew softer, more crazed, and Bishop had to lean in closer to hear him. "She was once an innocent, and was corrupted into what she is. And Cyric likes that. He drinks it in, devours it. Her broken little heart is his life-force, as are the broken little hearts she causes." When Bishop looked perplexed, Martin rolled his eyes. "She's an assassin. A murderer. That tattoo brands her as one. So don't go spreading it around. It marks her as belonging to Cyric, and I am sure that the Watch here wouldn't take too kindly to having an assassin in their midst. So don't go telling everyone about it, understand? She'll be thrown out of favor if you do. So, don't."

"If it will get you off of my back and out of here," Bishop snarled, clenching his fist around the hilt of the dagger, "Then sure. I wasn't going to say anything anyway. I didn't think it was all that important."

"Good," Martin said sharply, satisfied with Bishop's response, "Now, Cari should be back soon. Let's try to get along until she returns." An uncomfortable silence settled between them as Bishop continued to pick at his fingernails with the tip of Cari's dagger. Martin leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, so he could stare at his linked fingers. After a few awkward moments had passed, the door opened and Cari swept in, carrying a blood-stained bag in her hands. Bishop noticed the strange, uncomfortable look on her face as she shut the door and strode over to Martin, presenting him with the bloody satchel.

"Heart and signet ring, with finger still attached," she said curtly, her voice slightly strained, "As per usual."

She folded her arms over her chest, and Bishop noticed she was shaking as Martin rose from his seat, took the bag, and slipped it into a pocket on the inside of his robes. "Thank you, Carianna. You have done well tonight." Cari said nothing, instead staring at a spot on the worn floor of her room, and Martin smiled, a cold, vicious, and strangely victorious smile. "You're trembling, rose," his tone more mocking than concerned, "Was it a good one?" Cari was still silent, hating her body for betraying her, but Bishop could see her fingers gripping and clenching at her arms. "Was it bloody?" Martin continued, the smile on his face malicious as Cari's breaths grew shorter and more ragged, "Did he-"

"He fought," she blurted out, reaching up to pull at the clasp holding her cloak together, "He fought. He made me work for it." She whimpered softly as the cloak slipped from her shoulders and pooled at her feet. "He fought hard, Martin," she whispered, glancing over at Bishop as she released her scabbards from her hips, so that her swords fell to the floor with a loud thunk, "I need it. I need it now..."

"Don't tell me that," Martin said softly, immensely satisfied to see her in such a state, "Tell Bishop." He glanced over at the other man, and then turned on his heel and walked towards the shadows. "Show him what you mean. Goodnight, Carianna."

Bishop watched as Martin vanished into the darkness, then turned back to Cari, and he was startled to see her hurriedly pulling her boots and gloves off, leaving them where they fell on the floor. "What did he mean by that?" he asked, more than a little curious and confused as she tossed her bracers onto her bureau.

"A good murder gets my blood flowing," Cari murmured, turning her attentions and shaking fingers to her leathers, "And there's only one thing that sates it."

"What do you mean, 'gets your blood flowing?'" Bishop asked, raising an eyebrow in question, "As in...?"

Cari groaned to herself, stumbling over her own fingers in her attempt to unfasten the buckles that lay over her breasts. "I-I get... I get excited," she whispered, giving up on those buckles to concentrate on her belt, "I-I get aroused-Gods-fucking-damn it, I normally don't have this kind of trouble!" she wailed, nearly screaming in frustration, "I just-"

She stopped abruptly as Bishop rose from her bed, walked over, took the buckles in his hands and quickly freed her breasts from the confines of her leathers. He followed with the rest of her armor, until it lay in a pile on the floor and she stood bare before him, her pale skin still glistening with sweat. He barely had a moment to savor the sight of her body before she shoved his chest, hard, and, taken by surprise, he lost his balance and fell back onto her bed. He had just managed to sit up when Cari straddled his lap and pressed her hips against his, the feel of her warm body so close to his making him stir beneath her.

"That's what you meant-" he said, the rest of his words silenced as she cupped the back of his neck and pulled him into a fierce, hungry, frantic kiss, their lips crashing against each other as Bishop wrapped his arm tightly around her waist and moved them up her bed until his back rested against her headboard. He moaned into her mouth as he felt her other hand close around his hardening manhood, and he grunted loudly, his hips bucking upward as she suddenly thrust herself down onto him, engulfing him in her tight, moist warmth.

Groaning loudly at the pleasurable sensation of being buried inside her once more, Bishop's hands fell to the soft flesh of her hips, where his fingertips dug into her skin as he held her, pulling her against him in a slow, sensual rhythm, and in response, Cari lightly trailed her lips down his neck and back up to his ear, where she gently nibbled on his earlobe, having learned that it made him shiver. "Take me," she whispered urgently, sighing softly at the feeling of him deep within her, filling her, stretching her as she let him slowly rock her back and forth, "Hard and fast. Like you did earlier, and don't stop until morning."