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The drawing room was a pleasant enough space - luxurious, of course, but tastefully so in the way of old families. It was not ostentatious like the homes of the nouveau riche had a tendency of being. In is own way, it was a comfortable space. It could, perhaps, even be considered tranquil if not for the tall, restless young gentleman pacing its length in long, liquid strides.

Thomas Avery was not pleased. His father had demanded that that he see a young lady for the purpose of a possible match. Though the young lord was not inclined to agree, neither was he strictly free of his father's clutches. The old b*****d was using Ravensgate as collateral. Oh, Thomas was lord of the manor in name, but in practice, the duke could revoke the privilege whenever he wished. Until he had the good grace to die off, Thomas - and his beloved estate - would be trapped under his thumb.

He growled under his breath.

It was true that Thomas had little choice but to meet with the lady, but he judged that the duke was not yet at the end of his rope. As such, he felt no obligation to act particularly friendly toward the woman, whoever she may be. Thomas had no inclination toward marriage at this point, anyway. Not when he had more pressing matters to attend to. Not when he had a Wolf to slay.

Regardless, if his attitude frightened her away, then the woman was not worth his time in the first place.

From beside a chaise, a pale doe had been watching his progress out of her one good eye. Eventually, however, she seemed to decide that enough was enough. With a quiet grace, she calmly walked up to him and rested her nose on the center of his chest. Stop, she seemed to say. All will be well.

Thomas took a deep breath, held it for a long moment, and released it in a shuddering sigh. Then, he curled over the doe until his forehead rest upon hers, his hands burying themselves in the short, thick fur on the back of her neck. For several moments, he rest there, soaking in her feelings of calm and love and peace.

A soft knock interrupted him and Thomas straightened as the door opened to reveal Mister Walmsley. "Lady Ariah has arrived, my lord," he said with a bow.

"Very well. Show her in, Walmsley," Thomas replied. Sigyn took one last look at Thomas before preceding Walmsley out of the room.


In the hall the doe passed the young woman, assessing her but not stopping to gape, as she made her way out to the stables.

As Sigyn stepped into the stable, she looked at this other doe, assessing her with her one good eye. Whatever her thoughts were, they did not show through. Instead, she acknowledged the doe's existence and then proceeded to ignore her entirely. However, she did spare a moment to send Thomas an image of the stranger. Just so he knew.


It was passably interesting to note that the woman was in possession of a Guardian, but it was hardly impressive enough to remark upon. Guardians, it seemed, were not as rare as they had once been. At the very least, the people who had been chosen were not necessarily impressive. Nor were the beasts themselves.

As to the woman before him, well. She was certainly a unique creature, he would give her that. Boldly meeting his eyes, she seemed ready for an argument or some sort of censure. Perhaps she was trying her best to appear so very brave in the face of a big, scary monster. Though really, he hardly considered himself to be that frightful. It was her hair, however, that he found most bold. It was shorn as short as most men. Indeed, it was shorter than his own hair.

"Where is your mistress, child?" he inquired. "I was informed that Lady Ariah had arrived. Is she not fit to see me?"

Thomas was more amused by her attempted insult than offended - though he had certainly never been called old before. Still, even if she lacked bite, her bark made it clear that Lady Ariah was no more pleased to be here than he was to have her. Well. Wasn't that lovely. Not that it mattered overmuch to him either way.

"Were you expecting a boy, rather than a man?" he wondered. "Though I might expect no less from such an amorphous thing."

If she wanted any respect from him, she would have to earn it. Of course, given that she was as uninterested in a match as he, she probably cared not a whit about his respect. Just as well. If she were clever, she would use his poor behavior as an excuse to her parents and leave all the sooner. But his insults would not drive her away, then there were surely other ways. Of course, she out to be gone in a day or two regardless, but it would not break his heart if it were to happen within the hour. He had more pressing matters to attend to.

"Your mother's baby doll, are you? Incapable of making your own decisions?" Poor little thing. It was a pathetic argument, defending herself by demeaning herself. Had she nothing better to offer?

Ah. Now there was another thing no one had ever accused him of. Perhaps she was blind as well as slow-witted.

"I can assure you, no woman has found me wanting," he said, licking his lower lip. If she wanted to be lewd, he was more than capable. She could not say that he had not offered her civilized insults to begin with. However, his mother had instilled in him some manners. He would only be as uncivilized as she.

The lady might be surprised how much Thomas knew about being a prisoner. Being shackled by the whims of a man he hated. Being bound to a purpose by a vow unkept and an oath made. Being entwined in a destiny determined by the existence of a black beast. Oh, yes. Thomas knew much about imprisonment.

"Do not presume to understand my life," he cautioned her. For that was most foolish, indeed.

He watched through veiled eyes as she sauntered so boldly over to him. Always so bold. And foolish.

He stepped closer to her slowly, deliberately, invading her personal space. As she did not move back on her own, he forced her bodily to the wall where he trapped her. Trapping her wrists above her head in one long-fingered hand, he leaned in close, lips pausing scant inches from hers. He used a finger from his free hand to tilt her chin up just so. Dark, emerald eyes met hers for a lingering moment before he moved past her lips, instead bringing his own close to her ear. His nose brushed her hair while the warm air from his breath tickled her ear. "Be careful what you ask for, little girl," he purred. "You may just get it."

He leaned back and released her chin, glanced at her eyes, pointedly looked her hair up and down, and met her eyes once more. "But as you seem to be more of a child than a woman, you need not worry about that."

He freed her wrists and stepped back, point having been made.

He quirked a brow. "Such language," he said, his tone somehow conveying both mockery and the experience of an adult when speaking to a child. Though her words amused him on some level - she was, after all, reverting to vulgarity when she did not get what she wanted - they also served to cool what little fire may have been in his blood.

His initial insult had, perhaps, been more accurate than he might have suspected. Though her hunger was pure woman, her attitude was juvenile. Perhaps Thomas could not boast all the maturity of a saint, himself, but neither was he one to be tempted into foolishness by a rebellious girl. Especially not when such foolishness could get him trapped into marriage with her.

Besides, where had she learned to speak like that? "You sound like a lower-city harlot."

Proved himself? Thomas didn't much like the sound of that. His goal was to be rid of the woman, not make her like him. Besides, he wasn't the sort of man who went about proving himself to anyone, let alone the women his father foisted upon him.

Though he had to admit, none of them had been quite like this one - improper and apparently wanton. There again, while it was enough to catch his interest, it was not necessarily enough to secure it. Lady Ariah was an anomaly, to be sure, but he was far from convinced she was worth the trouble of serving as more than a passing curiosity.

"So glad to have been of service," he said ironically. It was true that Thomas enjoyed a good verbal spar as much as the next gentleman, "Though I'm afraid I cannot return the compliment." Moving on without giving her time to reply, he added, "Perhaps you do not know how to enjoy society. Though if you enjoy the lower city as much as you claim, it could be a simple lack of taste."