The realization was jarring.

So much of his long, long life had been steeped in bloodshed, the inevitability of violence coloring his every move. He considered himself to be more of a weapon than a warrior, with neither want nor need of any attachments. And yet here he was, burying his face into Doris' nape, running one hand down the curve of her naked back. She yielded to him sweetly, foolishly, and he wrapped his arms around her.

Of course, D knew he couldn't stay with her. His was a cursed destiny, after all. And she was too bright, too pure, too… human. Like a flare of golden sunlight, warm and vibrant andalive.

But for a few small, sacred moments as he held her, she was his.

A peal of thunder rumbled overhead, rattling the windows and disturbing the quiet of the cabin. Doris eased away from the Hunter, his arms coming down to settle in a loose embrace around her. She stared up at those impenetrable grey eyes, elated by the warmth she found there. She leaned forward to brush a kiss into the hollow of his throat.

"I'm hungry," she sighed against his skin, stretching lazily into his touch. Doris lifted her head. "Care to join me for dinner?"

At the Hunter's nod, Doris smiled and skirted to the edge of the bed to collect her discarded clothes, reclaiming her blouse and panties. She wasn't too cold, just yet, and wanted to enjoy the feeling of his eyes on her body for as long as she could. She left the collar of her shirt open and loose.

Wordlessly, the Hunter followed suit, pulling on his trousers. He moved to gather up the rest of his attire but Doris touched his arm, making him pause.

"Wait–do you mind–" she started. "You're not cold, are you?"

"No."

"Then could you… stay, like that?"

The Hunter obliged and set aside his black raiment, his alabaster skin gleaming enticingly with every movement. The sight sent a pleasant chill up her back. Doris crossed the room to dig through her travel bag. As she moved, she became aware of a deep, dull ache within her loins, the muscles there still newly tender. She smiled again, a faint blush rising on her cheeks as she recalled the feel of him within her.

A growl of thunder crashed around the cabin, making her nearly jump out of her skin. Instinctively, Doris' hand went for the whip at her hip only to find it wasn't there.

She cursed at herself softly, a bitter scowl tugging at her lips. As a child, she had never been afraid of thunder, or the dark, or the wilds of the Frontier. Her father had often praised her for her fearlessness and strength, claiming that she would make an excellent Hunter, if she so chose.

But that was before.

Before the Count threatened to take everything she had left–the only thing she had left–her warm, simple life with her brother. They had worked so hard in the three years following their parents' deaths to forge a new family together, just the two of them. She had only been a child herself when she was suddenly saddled with all the responsibilities of the farm, not to mention raising Dan. So many nights she had cried in her bed, alone and tired and lost. But even then, she had never been afraid.

Until that horrible night.

And when she woke the next morning to find the Kiss on her throat, it felt as if the world had come crashing down around her. What little peace she had been able to kindle was gone, torn away in an instant.

And then he came along. Strong, quiet, beautiful–the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He spoke softly to her brother, starved as he was for brotherly attention, and he had protected her, body and soul. Her heart yearned for him like the drowned yearn for air. He saved her, shared with her the ghost of his touch, and left.But the fear remained.

Doris could feel the Hunter watching her now, those grey eyes silver in the low light of the fire. She had retrieved a selection of food from within her travel pack, setting down each item noisily as if to ward off the shadows now darkening her mind: a wheel of soft yellow cheese, a rasher of dried salt pork, a loaf of bread, and two large, pink apples. D approached the table as she began to cut up the cheese and apples, his footfalls impossibly silent on the old wooden floorboards. Her movements were too quick, her cuts too fast and unnecessarily hard. And when he put his hand over hers she couldn't help but cry.

She dropped the knife and folded into his chest, his arms coming around her automatically. She knew it was stupid, knew she was being irrational. Of course she knew. But the tears came all the same. And the Hunter held her, supporting her gently as she cried. Cried for herself, for him, for the long night ahead and cold, bleak morning that would follow. For the inevitable departure. For the loneliness. And because he could never be hers.

D waited until her tears stopped before placing a kiss on the top of her head. Doris looked up at him then, red-rimmed eyes full of fraught emotion.

"D, I…" was all she could manage, voice strangled with sadness.

"I know," he said. And he did. He bent down to kiss her lips lightly, tasting the salt of her tears.

The longing in his voice stoked a flame in her chest, banishing the emptiness that had taken up residence there. She returned his embrace, her arms encircling his narrow, well-defined waist. She hugged him as tightly as she could, knowing it wouldn't bother him in the slightest. And then she released him, that easy smile returning to her face.

"Let's eat, then."

They shared in the simple meal, Doris remarking how everything had come fresh from their farm. Dan had harvested and milled the wheat, and she had baked the bread just that morning. The cheese had been made from milk she had gathered by hand from her cows. The apples were plucked from trees that had just started yielding last year, having been planted not long after the Hunter had visited.

D made a point to try everything, honoring the fruits of the Langs' labor as best he could with his very limited appetite. And Doris regaled him further, telling him about Dan and his recent accomplishments.

"He's a fine young man now," she said, offering D an apple slice. He accepted it, finding the flesh crisp and fresh and sweet. "It's hard to believe he's only sixteen, sometimes. He helps out around the farm like a grown man. And he's gotten so tall! Though, not quite as tall as you…"

She told him of the storm that had torn down the barn four years ago, and the frost that had nearly wiped out their grape vines. And with each downturn the Langs had recovered and rebuilt, better and stronger than before. Soon, their machines and robots would be paid off, and they would be able to hire some permanent farm hands to maintain the land in their stead.

"What will you do then?" D asked. The fire had grown low in the hearth."Oh, I don't know," Doris sighed, leaning with one elbow on the table, her fingers tracing formless designs on his bare forearm. "I thought I might travel, I suppose. Go visit the Capital. Or head North, towards the ocean. I've never seen it before." She pulled his hand to her cheek, a glimmer of heat reigniting in her gaze. "Perhaps we would meet each other out on the road."

D caressed her jaw, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. "I would like that."

Their lips met.