A comfortable quiet settled over the cabin as the night drew long. The rain had finally begun to let up then, the incessant hammering on the metal roof now dimmed to a steady patter. Doris offered the remnants of the cheese and salt pork to D. He declined with a wave of one hand. She packed away the foodstuffs while he tended to the fire, placing another log on the waning embers.

She was filled with restless energy despite the long day's travel, the inevitability of dawn clouding her thoughts. For a distraction, she allowed her eyes to be drawn to the sleek, predatory grace of the Hunter as he prodded at the fire, its revitalized glow sending his shadow dancing across the floor. He closed the grate, his palm lingering just long enough for Doris to realize that he wasn't much bothered by the heat, either.

The thought of those strong, warmed hands touching her made the pleasant ache in her loins throb. Doris paused, swallowing. She could feel her face and ears begin to heat with a flush. The Hunter's bare shoulders rolled and swelled as he got to his feet. He turned to face her, silken and silent, his dark gaze unwavering.

This was it. Well and truly, their final hours together. Gods, how she wanted him.

The sharp, hot cast of the flames ignited deep red hues hidden in his hair. His face was pale and pristine, like the moon on a clear night. She took a deep breath of the cool night air. It tasted of smoke and salt and…

Her lips parted, her tongue glancing her upper lip as she recalled his frenzied kiss, rich with her blood.

Sin.

The thought made her heart skip a beat, saliva pooling in her mouth. She swallowed again.

D was watching her, his form entirely still but for the fervor in his eyes. Her body moved automatically, her hips brushing his as they came together once more. Her hands moved up his ribs, over the cords of firm flesh and muscle, to pull him to herself. His arms encircled her waist.

She pressed her face into that exquisite chest, savoring his scent just as he had hers. His hold around her tightened minutely when her lips found his left pectoral, moist and eager as they were. She indulged in the taste of him and his bewitching, arcane scent, cool and metallic and sanguine. Unequivocally D, human and inhuman. The man she loved.

She nipped at his sternum with blunt teeth, kissing and tasting him as she went. The low thrum of his heartbeat quickened under her lips, his hand spidering into her hair to cradle the back of neck. The low hiss that greeted her ears sent a tingle of pleasure cascading through her.

Doris' hands and mouth glided down, following the hard planes of his abdomen. Her ruddy cheeks were warm against his stomach, the drag of her teeth on his skin exhilarating. His own jaw tightened in response.

The sensation stirred a deep-seeded instinct, revitalized now that his Noble blood had been quelled. Dimmed were the predatory urges of his father, now replaced by the prey drive of his mother. He knew what it was to bare your throat to a Noble, to feel the ecstasy of your lifeblood being drained, to share in another's life source, giving and taking, tasting and being tasted.

Doris dipped her hands lower, her touch growing light and shy as she neared the hollow of D's hips. For all her passion, she was still inexperienced. Still, she wanted to touch him again, to see him–all of him–again. And if the growing heat against her upper thigh was any indication, he did, too.

His hand tightened at the back of her neck when her tongue flicked below his navel. She glanced up to find those dark eyes alight with simmering heat, his brow drawn. She tilted her head down in silent question, her tongue never leaving his flesh, when she brought her fingers down to the waist of his trousers.

His hands came around hers and he lifted her up effortlessly, bringing her lips to his to drown her in a long, sweet kiss. His touch framed her face, her neck, no doubt feeling the renewed rush of blood. His lips were gentle against hers, his tongue slow and rhythmic with no hint of fangs.

The hard press of his manhood straining at her belly was a delicious distraction, the building heat in her loins echoing the desire. Once again, her hands found their way to the fly of his trousers.

D let out a rumble of dissension, his head pulling back to break the kiss. "Doris," he admonished softly.

She couldn't help the sudden sound of annoyance that escaped her then. Hadn't they already gotten past this? She crossed her arms over her chest, flustered and more than a little confused by his denial.

"What?" It came out harsher than she intended. She glanced away.

He touched her cheek. "It's late," he said solemnly. "You should get some rest."

The flush on her face deepened, her arms crossing tighter. She straightened her back, ready to refute him much as she had the stablemaster earlier that evening. But there was something in his look that held her tongue. Underneath the ebbing heat was that caution, or remorse?

She softened her expression, her arms falling to her sides. Her pulse was still racing, desire having turned rapidly into indignation. She let out a sigh and kissed his wrist.

"Are you tired, D?" she asked.

"No." In truth, he felt more energized than he had in a long, long time. Her blood had been like a shot of adrenaline to his overwrought, blood-starved body. He doubted he would sleep at all the next few nights.

"Neither am I," she said with a smile, one hand drifting back up to his hip.

His eyes dropped to the Kiss he had left on throat. The raw, red marks pulsed with the rhythm of her heart, alluring and abhorrent. His gaze shifted lower to the shadow of her cleavage, her ample chest heaving with desire. The prospect of making love to her again was mesmeric, his body already reacting to her touch. But with his strength restored there would be no telling how much–or little–control he would have over his reinvigorated power.

Doris shifted her weight, one brow hiked. He had seen this expression before when she had addressed that scoundrel, Greco. She was getting impatient.

Curse him. She deserved the truth, at the very least. He lowered his hand and took a step back.

"It's dangerous, Doris. Likely even more dangerous now that I've had your blood. I don't want you to get hurt."

Her copper eyes widened, mouth firming into a line. "You're afraid you'll hurt me?"

"Yes."

Something wicked flashed in her eye, that impish smile returning to her lips. Whatever she was about to say, he did not think he was going to like it.

"Well, then, if you're concerned about hurting me, why don't we take steps to avoid that?"

Before he could protest, she spun around to dig through their discarded clothes. A moment later she stepped back up to him, her hips rolling enticingly. She held her scarf in her hand.

"Now then, Hunter." She twisted the fabric into a short, thin length with a snap. "It's my turn to take you."