The Hunter went utterly still in her arms, her words hanging heavy in the deafening silence of the cabin. She could feel the thrum of his heartbeat against her ribcage, still elevated from their activities. His warmed skin was already beginning to cool.

The world came back into focus with terrible clarity around him. The soft press of her flesh against him became scorching, his nerves sparking at the rush of renewed sensation. She was so small, so tender beneath him, her magnanimous words searing his brain. The taste of her blood lingered on his tongue, rich and vile. A thorny tangle of emotions welled within his chest and threatened to turn to bile in his throat.

He moved to withdraw from her, slowly, when the hand at the back of his neck firmed. "Don't," she hushed, sweet breath tickling his ear. She turned to press her cheek against his and he felt a trace of moisture there.The delectable scent of her blood mixed with the sharp salt of her sweat and tears to stab at his heart. He allowed her to hold him for a few minutes longer, the heat of her touch doing little to combat the iciness growing within him.

Only when her pulse began to settle did he finally loosen his jaw to speak. "Doris, I…"

The raw emotion in his low voice pierced her. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes. "Don't, D." She nestled her nose into his long, silky locks, the strands sticking to her lips and cheeks. "You don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to hear it." Her right hand slid down to cup his chin and he let her lift his face. The stormy look in his eyes made her heart ache.

"I love you," she repeated, simple and earnest, "and I don't regret what we did."The hard press of his lips furrowed tighter. Doris arched her neck up to press a kiss onto them, eliciting two thin tracks of blood to trickle down to pool at her clavicle. She watched as his expression stiffened, cold gaze sweeping from the faded scars of the Count's Kiss to the fresh marks left by his own fangs. His right hand clenched into a fist near her waist as a devastating neutrality washed over his features.

Once again he moved to withdraw from her but she wrapped her legs around him before he could get far. He lifted his hips away from her, his arms spreading wider as if he was afraid to touch her.

She made a point of meeting his eyes, her expression turning gravely serious. "Tell me, D." She brought her hand to her throat, her fingertips brushing at the wetness there. The Hunter watched, unblinking, unmoving. "Why do Nobles bite?" She touched her fingers to her lips, her tongue flicking out to taste the traces of blood there. A glimmer of something ignited in the Hunter's impenetrable grey eyes but it was gone in the span of a breath. "Is it always just out of hunger? To satisfy their thirst?" The frank edge in her tone demanded an answer.

"...No," he said after a long moment. He didn't know where this line of questioning was going but he suspected he wouldn't like it. The gleam in Doris' eye was unexpectedly intense as she stared up at him. The ruby smudge that colored her lower lip was a wanton distraction, the crimson allure of her blood threatening to pull him under yet again. He needed to distance himself from her, before–

"So a bite can be an expression of hunger, and affection?"

"Yes," he replied hoarsely. She raised a brow. "Both. Either," he clarified.

"Just like a human kiss, then." Her fingers drifted back to the scars on her throat. "We kiss for lust," her hand moved up to his mark, her touch and voice softening, "and for love."

Her arms slid under his then and she pulled herself up, pressing the full length of her body against him. The familiar scent of her hair and skin folded around him, bathing him in her warmth. She clung to him for several minutes, her strong, sveldt muscles coiled over his back, her breasts molded against his chest. When she finally released him she settled back down onto the mattress, her dark eyes lidded with mirth.

"Stay with me." She smiled. "Just for tonight."

It wasn't a command but rather an offer; a wish given form.

But was it hers, or his?

The bed was very narrow so when D brought his legs to one side of her Doris had to shift herself closer to the wall, allowing sufficient space for him to lay on his side next to her. She hid her smile in his chest, trailing a kiss along his pectoral. A curious coldness slid across the skin of her abdomen when she turned into him and she realized with some embarrassment that his seed was still on her belly, glistening in the firelight.

D followed her look and slid his left hand in between them. He brushed his palm over her belly and there was a warm, wet sensation that left her skin clean and tingling. She glanced up at him, an unspoken question on her face, but he did not respond. Instead, he resituated himself next to her, tucking her into the crook of his left arm.

Doris was pleased beyond belief that her words had been sufficient in keeping him at her side, even just for one night. Of course, she had no illusions regarding their relationship. He could never be hers, truly. But he had granted her the next few hours and for that she was happy. She leaned into his loose embrace, one hand between them to splay over his chest. She pressed her face to his skin, cool as it was against her still-heated flesh, savoring the feel of him around her.

D held still long enough for Doris to get comfortable before bringing his left hand up to drape over her waist. She relaxed into his touch with a contented sigh. Her whole body eased against him and she closed her eyes, a gentle smile pulling at her lips.Damn him, but she felt so good in his arms.

So rarely had he been privileged to a gentle embrace, let alone be invited to share another's bed. Doris was remarkably steadfast, a quality that he had always admired but did not fully appreciate until now. She had every reason to hate him, to fear him, for his lineage. Given her history with the Nobility it would be a reasonable response. But instead she judged him for his character, and by some miracle she found him worthy.

He recalled when Doris had pardoned the Noblewoman Larmica from his blade, even though the vampire had kidnapped her with the intent to slay her. The girl's ardent command that she go free struck a chord within him, having so rarely seen any kind of grace from humans towards the Nobility.

And she persisted in this grace, coaxing him from the depths of his self loathing with her warm touch and sweet words. The disgust he felt at seeing his own Kiss on Doris' throat had sickened and enraged him. In that moment, he felt he was no better than the wretched Nobles he was sworn to eradicate. He had wanted to share in her bed as a man–to make himself worthy of her–but he couldn't. The lurid temptation of her blood had been more powerful than his will and he had given into that most accursed sin. And still she soothed his soul with words of forgiveness.

No, not just forgiveness.

Love.

He felt Doris' eyes on his face. He met her gaze. The rosy hue in her cheeks was fading now but she still looked breathless and bedrumpled, her long, wild tresses spilling over her bare shoulders. She was watching him carefully, studying every movement in his face.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"You," he said truthfully, earning him another smile.

Doris hummed pleasantly. "What about me?"

In lieu of a response, D trailed his left hand down her side, grazing her skin with just the pads of his fingers. She shivered pleasurably, goosebumps spreading along her arms. He moved slowly, leisurely, down the curve of her waist then up to the crest of her hip. She shifted her knee atop his, bringing her leg forward to meet his touch. But he froze when he reached her upper thigh.

There, just below the firm slope of her buttock were four small, distinct bruises. As if handling fine glassware, his fingers touched the marks, lining up each digit with a bruise.

He withdrew his hand as if burned.

Immediately, Doris slid her hand up to his cheek. "Don't, D. I already said–"

But it was too late. He sat up sharply. Doris found herself caught between exasperation and embarrassment as he began to examine her body. His brow darkened when he found another set of fainter, larger marks in the hollows of her hips. A similar set of bruises marred the outside of her knees. The lines of his face deepened. His hands slipped over the tops of her thighs and he applied gentle pressure, encouraging her to spread them.

"H-hey!" she sputtered, her flush returning, her hands fluttering to his. "It's okay, D. I promise you that I'm fine. You don't have to–"

"Doris." Precise, emotionless. "Please. I have to know."

The coldness in his voice brought tears to her eyes but his tone brooked no argument. Doris bit her lip and dropped her hands, her blush increasing tenfold. Tentatively, she opened her legs, allowing the Hunter full view of her womanly core.

The bruising along her inner thigh was the worst, the skin there already turning a deep reddish purple in several places. Gingerly, almost reverently, he touched the marks, matching the impressions against the splay of his thumbs. Her breath caught in her throat as that familiar frigid aura coalesced around him, his expression unreadable.

D shifted his gaze to her womanhood, pink and moist and painfully beautiful. Doris tried to close herself off again, whispering some flustered comment, but he held her still, careful not to exert too much pressure. There was no blood, though he hadn't expected much, if any. Doris was a skilled horseback rider and years of that kind of rough, repetitive activity would have eliminated such a worry. Her vaginal opening was flushed from friction and her clitoris was still swollen with arousal, but there did not appear to be any tearing or bruising.

That he could see.

She was staring at him with wide, watering eyes. The sight drove a stake through his heart. But he schooled his face to remain neutral. He touched her flushed cheek, featherlight. "Are you in pain?"

"No," Doris said, low and calm and just a little too tractable. Like she was trying to soothe a startled animal. It was almost jarring enough to rouse him from his dour thoughts. Her small hand came over his as a tear slipped down her cheek. He brushed it away with his thumb. She lifted her chin to meet his gaze. "I need you to listen to me, D."

Her hand folded over his, pulling it away from her cheek to press his palm to her chest, just above her left breast. A log popped and collapsed in the hearth, sending up a flurry of sparks. The flare of light ignited the coppery depths of her eyes as she peered up at him.

"I'm not in pain, I don't feel sick, and I am happy. Now, please," she said, pleading tone warming, "come back to bed."