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Thomas looked at her, his brow furrowed. "What the - I can't hit a woman! Run into the door or something!" He returned to his forging, mumbling, "Hit a woman, what's wrong with you? ...Hit a woman..." He held the pages up to the light, nodding in satisfaction.

Slowly and deliberately, he stitched the thick pages into the spine, careful not to compromise the integrity of the book. He concentrated deeply on the rhythmic movement of the needle. He felt it coming long before it started...

A woman from a nearby settlement of the Northern Territory was weeping, holding the body of the little boy he had killed. The undertaker stood to the side, his face as still as stone. Thomas couldn't take it anymore. He would end his life. He turned and walked out the door into the street. He heard the door open again and a woman's voice cry out, "Wait!" He stopped, not turning around. She came around to face him. "Please," she begged, "Did he suffer?" Thomas stood there numbly. For some reason his mouth had gone dry and his jaw had locked up. Suffer? Of course he did. Who would take pleasure in such a life? In such a death? "Please," she asked again, wringing her hands. "No," he finally replied softly. They both knew, but she needed to hear the lie. "No, he did not..."

He shook himself back to the present and found that he had finished the stitching. It was flawless. "There. That should do it. Everything ready?"

Thomas set the book down on the counter, groaning unhappily and rubbing his face with his hands. He stood up and faced her. "Alright... let me hit you first so that I can feel better when you hit me." He took a deep breath, drew back his fist and... lightly tapped her face, flinching. "I know! I know! Just... give me a minute," he said, as she opened her mouth to tell him off. "Close your eyes. I can't do it if you look at me like that." She smiled a little and closed her eyes.

He studied her face - the naturally tinted lids of her eyes, her long lashes, her rosy cheeks, and her beautiful curved lips. He forced himself to stop there; his heart was beating painfully fast. He calmed and forced himseld to revert back to his soldier-mindset. He had a job and it must be done. He pulled back his fist and struck out hard. She stumbled backward a bit and Thomas lunged forward to steady her. Her lip was bleeding.

The sight tugged at his heart and he couldn't stop himself from pulling her close and holding her. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "Does it hurt much? I'm afraid I only bloodied your lip."

Thomas took deep breaths; they were long and ragged. He was sure she could feel his heart pounding out of his chest, so he released her quickly and sat down in a chair. He closed his eyes. "Okay. Go ahead. Make it good..."

He braced himself, forcing away another memory.

"Are... Are you kidding me? You have to hit me." He opened his eyes and looked up at her as she stood over him. "You have to." They were silent for a while, his mind turning quickly. "Besides, it will convince her that she should take your power if you were able to put up such a good fight with minimal injury," he said smoothly, trying to persuade her.

"It wasn't my power", he corrected her as she hugged him tightly, "You're the one she wants to drink. Besides, I have no power she can inherit... that way," he added under his breath.

He could taste the blood in his mouth and could feel himself starting to change. He supressed a shudder and clenched his fists as he felt his muscles contract. Not now! Not here! He concentrated on breathing deeply, finally forcing the last of the copper energy back into his core.

He cleared his throat, pretending nothing had happened.

Thomas struggled to calm his beating heart as her delicate hand moved to his back. He pulled away. "Well, I guess we'd better leave." He pulled out a knife. "After you ma'am."

Thomas tied her hands behind her back with a length of rope from his bag, noticing how soft and warm her hands were. He was glad she could not see him at present, as he was sure he was blushing. He had never had time for romance. He was always kept away from women - in battle, training, missions, isolated in the wilderness for months at a time.

He finished tying the knot and spun her around to face him, checking her over. He made sure the book was securely in his bag and looked back into her eyes. He couldn't stop himself from reaching out and brushing her hair from her face.

He leaned in to kiss her, but realized what he was doing and pulled away hastily. "Let's wait here a bit. Just 'til the light dies down." His heart was beating uncomfortably in his chest; the close proximity to her was intoxicating. He could feel her warmth mingling with his, creating a static heat between them. Thomas swallowed.

Thomas stuck a match on his shoe; he placed the flame in his palm. Immediately, it turned white. A voice came from within. "Not the best time, Soldier Beaux-Borden. I trust you have important news?"

"Yes, Prince Aavard. We have located the vampire lord and have a plan to kill her. It will be executed at nightfall."

"Good. Report back to me when it is finished. If I have not heard from you by daybreak, I will give you up for dead. There will be no rescue."

"I understand." Thomas closed his palm and the flame died. The sky grew darker and finally, all traces of the sun had gone. "Looks like it's time," he said. He unsheathed his knife and yanked her out of the chair, thrusting her into the shadowy lane. He half-dragged her toward the outskirts of town where the vampire lay in wait down in the mine.