OHMYGOD!!

I ACTUALLY, FINALLY, GOT A REVIEW

Meaning you people are reading this!! –squeal- I have faith in this story again. =3

I LOVE YOU PEOPLE!!

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His heart was breaking.

It was absolutely SHATTERING, into a million little pieces. Leslie was sitting there, her spine straight, posture erect and shifted, as far away from him as she possibly could be… Almost as if she were afraid of him, though her face betrayed her-showing all the hurt, and pain there. It was like a needle, through his heart, injecting the deadliest poison he could ever imagine… The pain was crushing him, and he swore, he was about to fall from the whiplash of it.

Leslie looked… Good, to say the very least. She had shortened her hair, cropping it to her jaw length, though it was angled shorter in the back. Her dark brown eyes, oh how they seemed to glimmer with the purest of hopes, and if he searched deep down into them, he was positive he could see some love. For a moment hope spiked in him, before it came crashing down. He could taste her emotions, the most exquisite of gourmets as they rolled across his tongue. He inhaled deeply, though she didn't realize. Cinnamon, for anger… Vanilla, for betrayal… And mint, for envy, though there was a touch of cherry, for love. But he could tell, in an instant, that that love wasn't for him-nor was it for Niall.

Niall.

At the thought of the man, Irial's eyes flew up to him, sitting behind the desk, his jaw dropped in shock as he stared at Leslie, obviously as stunned by Leslie's words as Irial was. Slowly, he closed his mouth, and looked at Leslie. "Leslie?" he spoke, his voice as soft as Irial had heard it in a long time.

She didn't turn to look at him, just kept her eyes, harsh and accusing, far stronger than they had been the last time he'd seen them, trained on him. He was surprised, at how she'd rebuilt herself over the years-his Shadow Girl was so strong, even as tears glimmered down her cheeks… What had he done?

"Leslie." Niall spoke again, harsher this time.

Slowly, Leslie turned away from him, to look at Niall. She sniffed a few times, wiping her hand under her eyes to bat away the tears, a slight smudge of black eyeliner lingering on the back of her hand. "What?" she snapped.

"Irial didn't do this on purpose." Niall whispered.

Good. He isn't letting me take the fall for this. Irial thought to himself, as he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the door frame. His body was in shock, his heart in turmoil.

"But he's taken part in it."

"Only because I am forcing him to, Leslie, as his king."

Irial could taste her shock on his tongue-sweet, like green apples, though bitter at the same time.

"His… King?" Leslie tilted her pretty head to the side, mouth opened in shock. Niall nodded, and instantly she was up out of her seat, slamming her hands on the desk, rage. "So now YOU'RE ruling this place? No, worse, you're letting another ink exchange happen? After you saw what it did to me?"

Niall and Irial cringed in sync as she stepped back, pacing now.

"You were the one who helped me break the ink exchange, who told me to do it, even when I was blissfully unaware of the effects of it. And now, you're supporting one? Isn't it YOUR ink as well Niall?"

Niall sighed, and rose. "My court, isn't in the same condition as it was when Irial ruled. We are not starving, no, not near there. But we have pockets of hunger… Too many, for my content. We wouldn't need near as many emotions as we did from you, not have to take even her own away. Use her, as a key, to others."

Leslie's hand flew out accusingly, one hand pointed towards Irial. "As he did with me?"

"No, Leslie. You see, the Dark Court had some adjusting to do, with me as king. Some things I didn't even realize happening. We can no longer taste emotions with as much ease, as before. That is the cause for our pockets of starvation. This girl though, with my ink on her, could provide the proper adjustments."

Niall and Irial met each other's eyes. Neither wanted to do this… But Niall was a magnificent king. He didn't want any of his faeries to starve, in any way shape or form. So, he'd do this, risk this one thing, for them.

"And, truth be told, she wouldn't have to live with us as you did. I could let her go about her life… But drop in, once or twice. As a friend, that sort of thing. Leslie, please… Don't be enraged." And, as Niall crossed to Leslie, placing one hand on her shoulder, something occurred to Irial.

Years ago, his friend had been addictive to mortals. One thing Niall had feared, when being around Leslie… As king of the Dark Court, Niall was no longer addictive…

But Irial was.

For a moment, longing so deep and pure, for Leslie's love to be his again, rose in Irial's gut. He COULD have her… Yes, he could. But would he want Leslie like that? As someone who was addicted to him? No… He'd want his Leslie… And he'd want her to come back to him, of her own accord. Not through some penniless addiction to him.

But the idea lingered, in the back of his mind, even as Leslie stormed out.

He didn't get to say good-bye.

"Take me… To see this girl." Niall finally spoke, his head bowed with reluctance and also a sorrow at seeing Leslie again.

They had called ahead; Amora had come back to the store, as soon as Rabbit had called.

Keying his glamour in place, Niall pushed open the door. He looked for a girl of Irial's description – slight, lightly curved, innocent, light hair and pretty eyes, with a defiant demeanor.

Instead, what he found was a girl clad in black skinny jeans, dangerously high heels with a skull bow on the toes, a dark purple off-the-shoulder top, and a sweet smile.

Irial was surprised. He hadn't payed attention to her clothing before. He'd pictured the girl in something more… Well, light. Pleated skirt. Lip gloss. Wanting the tattoo to displease daddy… Which, the last part, was probably another reason why he had set it in his mind to dislike her.

For a moment, wanting curled in his lips, before he shook himself. He would have to call on one of his old girls tonight, sadly, to ease the pain of Leslie from his mind…

Niall spoke then. "You're Amora." He spoke simply, slightly dumbfounded. He definitely wasn't expecting a girl like this.

Amora's face softened into a smile, as she slumped her shoulders back, hooking one thumb in the belt loop of her jeans. The other hand wound around one of the waves of hair, as she nodded. "Niall?" she asked.

He knew it was dangerous for her to meet him, but he hadn't thought she'd know his name. He glanced at Irial, about to snap at him, wondering how she knew his name.

"Big, tall, and scary told me that I wouldn't be able to get the ink unless his friend approved of me." Amora's voice wasn't a jeer, merely a taunt that could have verged on flirty, if her eyes had the tone.

"Oh." Was all Niall could say.

Amora shook her head, as if to say 'Well…?' and smiled, tilting her head to the side. "I mean, I know I don't look like much, or the kind of girl to want that sort of tattoo, maybe a skull with a bow in it's hair, but I don't know… I want that, right on my hip." As if to prove her point, she drew her hand down to her abdomen, right where the hip bone would be and slightly to the side of that.

Not as bad a place as she could want it… Could be somewhere explicit. Niall had to think to himself.

But instead, he gestured to one of Rabbit's back rooms. "Mind if we go talk? Irial, you'll come."

Rabbit grabbed his keys, and unlocked the door to one room, flicking on the lights. It looked like a conference room, with a circular table and a few chairs set around it. Niall eased down into one of the chairs, Amora sitting in the one across from it, and Irial standing against the door frame.

"Why?" Niall asked.

"Uhm, excuse me?" Amora asked, her brow furrowing in confusion for a moment.

"Why do you want the ink."

"Oh. Well… It's beautiful. I don't know why, I'm so drawn to it. I've liked other tattoos before yes of cour-"

"And why don't you get one of those?"

"Because, while I liked them, they didn't seem worth it. They say that if you get a tattoo, you better like it, because it's going to be on your skin for the rest of your life. When you're old and saggy, it's still going to be there. Those tattoos that I've previously seen, were pretty, yes, roses, and faces, and hearts, and all that sort of thing, but I didn't think I'd want them, in even a year from now, let alone until I'm old.

"But then I saw that tattoo. It was just… Gorgeous. The jagged line protruding from the eyes is so beautiful, the line of knots so intricate… I absolutely adore it. I can't help it… It's like a lust, almost, for it and…"

Amora's words trailed off, as she lifted her eyes and examined Niall's face. The glamour hadn't covered the scar… And she instantly recognized it.

Hesitantly, she rose, and walked to Niall. Though he was sitting, he wasn't much shorter than her as she was standing. Gently, she touched the scar with the tip of her finger, the touch barely a whisper against his skin, ever so gentle. "Your eyes…" she murmured, stunned.

Niall smiled slightly, entranced by this mortal. She was pretty, yes, but weren't they all these days? But she wasn't his type; she was too slight, not fiery enough. Though, Irial would protest the 'fiery' part. But she was gentle, and she did truly want the tattoo, more than he knew. "Yes. The tattoo is my eyes." He drew away, standing and walking over to the door. He didn't want her touching him any more. Too tempting. He would never, ever, care for anyone other than Leslie. Never.

And while there wasn't a place in his heart built for Amora, he didn't want to risk one growing.

But he paused, and said, "You have my consent to get the ink."