It was perhaps one of the few times she actually stayed at the house. She was always the independent sort, forever finding her own way in these benighted lands. With her marriage to Marcus, came her adopted family. No less precious, though she held herself back more often than not.

Rather ironic that she chose to come to the halls of her adopted family in order to clear her head and make some important decisions about her future. However, she needed a place that was not one of her usual haunts, a place where she could think with very few interruptions. Only Kage knew where she was hiding at this point. She also needed a place that was not surrounded by reminders of him, reminders of her missing husband.

With a soft sigh, she stepped through the shadows and appeared before the outer door. It would not do to not announce her presence to whomever of rank that was in residence. She needed the refuge, but she would not be so rude as to surprise them with her presence.

When it was all said and done, she went to the room that was set-aside for her and her family. She had to wonder where she went wrong as she looked upon the chambers. Her mind was whirling with what she did to drive Marcus away from her. Perhaps she was not meant to stay long with one mate or another. She grew tired of being alone though with only the twins as company. The part of her that was still female longed for companionship.

She stripped out of her armor, leaving it in a careless heap on the floor. She made her way to the bathing chamber and prepared the water for a shower. When the water was warm enough to step in and tried to wash away the pain. The shower did much to hide the tears that coursed down her cheeks. Thoughts of all those she cared about in her existence haunted her to this day. Despite her reputation, this was a very short list, limited to only 5 males in her life.

The first was young Jared. She frowned at the thought of how the machinations of her father destroyed her first love. She had been young then, barely more than a child then. Yet Jared was the first she dared to love? and lost.

Then there was the Ravinist, Dagon Grim. The demon that had created the creature that she was today. Love or lust, it didn?t matter. Dagon would always hold a special place in her heart. Her master, her teacher, her mate, she had learned much at his side and she would be forever bound to him. The three scars upon her abdomen attested to this.

For a time, she explored a relationship with a dear friend of hers. Lucius served under Lord Brutin, and they had met at one of the numerous gatherings Brutin held. The relationship was passionate and brief, though it was one that would remain special to her. She suspected that a certain Marilith had interfered with that relationship. However, it was for the best. Lucius and his family were dear to her, and she would destroy any that would harm them. It is a kinship that exists to this day and one she treasures the most.

However brief the relationship was, there was a special place for Slaver within her heart. She never knew if he had a name other than Slaver, but it really mattered not. They had met while serving under Brutin, and had consummated a relationship during their tenure as leaders of the ill-fated Slaver?s Imperium. The organization had prospered for a while, even had a chance to be real competition for the Slaver?s Association, but in the end petty rivalries and fighting destroyed what chances they had. Then Slaver left one day, never to return.

Then there was Marcus. She smiled fondly as she remembered how they met. By then she was on the rise within the Slaver?s Association and he was another rival that Brutin chose not to recognize. It wasn?t until they were thrown together to protect the slave of Brutin?s own nephew, that she realized the type of person Marc was.

In the end, she fell in love and married him. They had two wonderful children and their marriage had been strong even with prolonged absences by either spouse. Now those absences hurt. She didn?t wish to remain alone anymore. Her one weakness, she despised being alone.

She sighed softly as she turned off the water. As much as she cared for Marcus, his absence this time had gone a long way to cooling their relationship. She did not know if he would ever return and that hurt.

She had been avoiding the Inn for sometime, only recently stepping out and watching the people therein. She was none too amused with sitting at the bar alone and watching as people went off in their little groups, or how people shamelessly paired off. She was prepared for another night when he walked in.

It had been a long time since any male provoked a favorable response from her. Yet, this male, Jonathan Flynn has done just that. It felt good to be appreciated once again. It had been something she missed in her misbegotten existence. She enjoyed being flattered and flirted with him. He was very handsome and charming. When she reflected on it, most males in Rhydin were very handsome, but very few had proven to be charming.

She had made a decision this night. In her heart, she felt it was time to let go. It was time to traverse a different path. It pained her to make this decision as she still loved Marc in now small ways, but she needed more than an existence where she had to wait for him to return. She felt she had waited long enough and it was time to let him go. Tears coursed down her cheeks as she made this choice. Her heart broke completely as she removed the collar-like necklace that she had worn since the day Marc had given it to her. She set the necklace aside, along with her wedding ring for when Angelica was ready to choose her husband.

She growled softly to herself and dressed in the soft linens that she had brought with her. Gathering her belongings, she chose instead to return to Gharnholme. She had matters to take care of before she sought Jonathan?s company again.

She stopped gathering her items when she heard the knock below. Curious as to who would be here this time of day, she slipped through the shadows to get the door before one of the servants did.

Captain Flynn was wondering if she was home; after all, he never really arranged for a time. He looked to the left and right and was about to turn around and try another time. The door opened and she peaked out. She appeared pleasantly surprised by Jonathan's presence.

Just as he was about to turn around he heard the door open and saw Natolii standing there, every bit as beautiful as he remembered from the night before. He smiled and tilted his head slightly in a greeting, "Bonjour, mademoiselle. I hope I'm not intruding, but I was in the neighborhood and had your card, and?" he grinned, "I was just dying to see you. I might as well be truthful, yes?"

She smiled then, "I had hoped I would see you again." She opened the door wider, "Would you like to come in?"

"I would love to. Thank you, Natolii." He wiped his feet on the entrance mat and entered. He looked around just a little then turned his eyes to her. "This is your home?"

She closed the door behind them and waved off the servant. "No, It is actually a family holding. I am just staying here at the moment."

He clasped his hands behind his back, interlocking his fingers and looked around as they moved further from the doorway. "Thank you for seeing me so unannounced. I usually try not to be so inconsiderate," he added, smiling at her. "You are looking very fine, Mlle. Soulbinder." He paused a bit. "A very interesting name. I can tell it's not French, although your given name might be!" He grinned, and looked at the beautiful woman.

She chuckled softly, "No, not French. A different 'location' altogether." She guided him to a receiving room in the house. "I do not mind at all, my dear. I am quite glad you did."

He looked about the room appreciatively, "Well, Natolii, I just had to come and prove to myself that you were real. Such beautiful and interesting women are oft the figments of the imaginations of sailors who've been to sea for too long, and I'm pleased to discover that all my eyes beheld was not just a night dream too sweet to be substantial." He was quick to then change the subject so as not to blush over his own words. "Your family must be large to occupy such a find home."

She nodded, "We are not a conventional family." She moved over to the bar in the room, "Can I get you a drink?"

"Oui, please. Scotch. On the rocks if you have ice handy. If not, straight up is fine." He followed her to the bar. "Not conventional? That is very interesting? In what ways do you defy all conventions?" he said, teasing yet truly interested in what she might say.

She pulled some ice out of the little bucket sitting nearby and placed them in the glass. She then carefully poured the Scotch into the glass. "What have you heard of the Bloods?"

He had to think a bit, for he had not been in Rhydin for very long, yet one did not have to be in Rhydin for long to have heard the name mentioned in whispers and rumors. "I confess I've not heard much. What I have heard is that they are a prominent and powerful?" he searched for the right word and settled on, "family." He watched her pour the scotch. "I've heard they have holdings and are, like myself, into trade, no?"

She nodded and brought the drink over to him, "That is correct." She smiled and looked over him, "This is one of their holdings..."

He reached for the drink and smiled, "I see. Thank you." Those who had holdings and were into trade were always of interest to him. Much of what his ships carried were not suitable for inspection and he had become an expert at secrecy and avoiding prying eyes while delivering his cargo. He lifted his glass to her,
"To family... and new friends."

She chuckled softly. "To new beginnings." She lifted the glass of wine in response.

He tapped his glass to hers, and nodded without taking his deep blues from her turquoise, wondering about the hidden meaning in that toast. He then sipped his scotch and noticed the smoothness of it; an excellent single malt which he was now suspecting to be just another clue to the nature of this family's prominence. "I would be presumptuous to imagine that I could have a place somewhere in that 'new beginning', nevertheless I do believe that new beginnings are often hand-in-hand with new relationships. I would like very much to know you better, Mademoiselle Natolii." Her name just seemed to flow of his lips so much easier with his French accent.

She smiled at him, "That is something I am willing to explore." She was being a bit vague. "If you don't mind a lady that runs mercenaries... or is not exactly human." The smile faded a bit as she waited on his answer. She was going to be up front about what she was. She owed him that much.

Had he been sipping he might have spewed good scotch, that being a sin in itself. Had he been swallowing, he surely would have choked, a certain embarrassment. As it was, he just held his drink and stared for a moment and recovered his thoughts. "A lady who runs mercenaries? Mlle. Natolii, you are more intriguing than I even thought! But not exactly human? Ahh! If you tell me you are an angel, that I would believe and fall at your knees and beg a blessing!" He thought she was teasing about the non-human part. "Sure you are the angel, yes? Of that I am most certain!" He laughed and played along with her tease.

She shook her head seriously, "An angel, no. One could not accuse me of being one of the host." Her eyes darkened a bit and she sighed, "No I am one of the infernal... A Daemon." She waited for his reaction, steeling herself for the worst. The confession was made, now for the consequences.

He stopped smiling and stared at her, seeing that she was perfectly serious. He had spent most of his life in France and the Church in which he and nearly everyone else in the country had grown up with had doctrines about such things. Daemons were depicted as ugly, evil creatures that occupied the souls of men and women. He felt a pang in the pit of his stomach as her family name came to mind - "Soulbinder". But how could she be a daemon? She is beautiful and had no appearance of evil to this sailor, who like most others of his kind and culture, tend to be a rather superstitious lot. "You are a Daemon, Mlle.? No... I think not. How could such a thing be?" he said in his French accent, looking at her and finding no fault in her.

"I had a choice, death or life and power. I took the later and have no regrets." She could read the disbelief clearly and clenched her right hand in a fist. "If I must show you." She turned away and bowed her head. Suddenly crimson wings tore from her back. It was sudden and seemed easy enough to her. When she turned again, her eyes were glowing red and short horns rested on her head.

He dropped his glass and fell back in fear, eyes wide, "Mon Dieu!" He had come to the West End prepared to defend himself against most kinds of attack, and he had no little skill and ability to do so; but he could never have been prepared for this. "Je vous demande pardon, Mademoiselle!! I meant no offense! Please, do not kill me!"

It was the reaction she expected. She shook her head and turned away. Her voice was shaky, "No apologies needed. I understand full well." She shifted back to her human form and walked over to the bar to pour herself something strong. "You are in no danger from me. If you chose to leave, I? Understand."

Captain Flynn left the home of Natolii Soulbinder?s family and walked along the West End streets feeling like a man who discovered a treasure and then lost his ship all in the same afternoon. He was quite conflicted over all that had just occurred; after all, he was falling in love with a demon and that didn?t happen every day. At least not in 17th century France where he came from.

He couldn?t recall any of his family who ever fell in love with a demon, although there were plenty who would have sworn that his father was the devil incarnate. It was the reason he had left home at the age of fourteen and signed as crew on a merchant ship. He went from being a merchant, to a privateer, to piracy, to what he was now ? a syncretistic combination of the three, shifting primary emphasis from one to the other depending upon the situation he?d find himself in.

While his father might have been considered the devil incarnate and often had red eyes after a night of heavy drinking, he never saw his father actually sprout wings and horns.

Natolii did.

He pondered all this in his heart as he made his way back to his ship. He felt himself being pulled in two directions. Her beauty and elegance attracted him with such delicate power that he felt helpless to resist it. Yet he was always taught that demons were to be feared, if not avoided at all costs with a healthy dose of holy water with particular emphasis on prolonged vespers to keep one safe though the night.

It had been a long time since he was so attracted to a woman. How could he deny his heart? ?I can?t do it,? he said to himself. ?I cannot deny my heart. The heart, it is but a faculty of which we despoil ourselves every day by giving it no exercise, all the while men continually attempt the insane to achieve the fleeting glories of war. Yet the interior fire goes out for lack of nourishment and a paralysis creeps over the heart. How could I possibly have known that my heart was to receive such an awakening that I can now so easily forget everything else I've ever known to be worthy of love? Jonathan, you are losing your mind. Is your heart to be resurrected by a daemon!??

He finally came to The Gatwick Lady and he placed his knuckles upon his hips and looked up at her in great admiration. ?Mademoiselle, you have competition for my heart! I?m going to soon introduce you to a lady, and I want you to be good to her.? He smiled and thought about the dinner and a tour of the ship.

Happy Hour

Captain Flynn hopped out of the carriage and went to Natolii's side, "M'lady, I welcome you to the magnificent ship, the Gatwick Lady, whose fine lines and beauty, while ordinarily most attractive, do pale in your presence." He then whispered as if a deep secret were being told, "You must excuse her if she now turns green with jealousy." He winked and offered his hand to her.

Natolii placed her hand in his as she stood. "She is a beauty in her own right."

That might be true to one who knows their ships, but this evening all of Jonathan's attention was upon Natolii. He took her left hand in his left, then wrapped his right arm beneath her left arm, never letting go of her hand as they walked the length of the pier that jutted out at right angles from the dock.

One could hear the gentle lapping of the water against the dock and moorings, the straining of rope that secured ships, occasional talking and laughter from around the ships and docks, and the far off barking of a dog. Still, it was dark and peaceful and the smell of the salt air was refreshing. They walked slowly on the pier, traveling parallel to the port side of the ship. "I hope the dinner will be satisfactory tonight. The chef of the Silver Oyster is usually quite good."

She smiled and looked around as she walked. Sharp eyes watched for movement in the shadows out of habit. Still, it would be nice to relax for a bit.

They came to the gang plank and walked up and then descended the single step to the main deck. The ship was totally lit by little lanterns that were attached to the rigging at 6-foot intervals. The scent of good food was in the air. "We must climb a short stair to the quarterdeck; can you do that in your gown?"

Natolii chuckled softly, "Oh I think I can manage, my dear."

He blushed a bit. Then pointed to the 6-foot ladder, "Mademoiselle, you are first, yes?

She moved towards the ladder and gracefully ascended to the upper deck. He followed her, careful to be discrete behind her. On the quarterdeck they could see a white, canvas gazebo with two sides open. The two closed sides blocked the wind. Inside the little gazebo was a nicely set table with white tablecloth and a candle in a glass chimney.

Jonathan smiled, "It looks like out table is ready."

She glanced around the deck and made her way gracefully towards the little gazebo. She was taking extreme care, though she was probably very safe at the moment. He noticed the care she was taking, but assumed that she might be afraid of ships. "The Gatwick Lady is a fine ship, Natolii. Safe and sturdy."

He went to the table and poured some Chardonnay in two glasses. Rather than sit already he handed her the glass. "This is our 'Happy Hour'." He was kidding of course. "Come with me." He took her other hand and walked her to the stern rail.

She accepted the glass with a smile. A look in her eyes showed no fear whatsoever as she then took his hand. "This is a wonderful setting, my dear."

He smiled and lifted his glass to her, "I was hoping you'd like it. To. . .us? May this night be a most pleasant memory in the years to come."

Her glass met his with a small clink, "To us, may we have many more pleasant memories." She smiled and took a sip.

"That I shall drink to! Over and over!" he smiled and sipped his drink. A little breeze caught his hair and moved a strand to his face. He immediately pushed it back. "I love looking out over the city at night. So much going on, yet we seem insulated from it, like the voyeurs, no?"

"I, honestly, prefer the buffer. The city wears on my patience at times. Were it not for business and a certain gentleman, I would have headed for Cisroe days ago." She smiled at him languidly.

Jonathan turned to her, standing before her, "A certain gentleman? Hmmm...I think he is a very lucky man. Of that I am most certain." He looked upon her face, so beautiful and warm with the lantern light reflecting off it.

She laughed quietly and returned his gaze. "Perhaps." She winked saucily at him.

Her wink nearly made his legs too weak to stand. He took another sip, his eyes never leaving hers, and his voice was soft, "Not perhaps. He is definitely very fortunate." There was silence for a few moments, and then he lifted his left hand and moved it to her arm. "Your gown is beautiful," he said, the accent slipping a bit heavier.

Her voice soften a slight bit, "Why thank you kind sir."

Jonathan?s eyes moved to her lips, but before he could do anything else, a voice was hearing clearing itself. "Excuse me, sir...ma'am. Soup is being served."

Her eyes glanced over to the Maitre'd and chilled a bit, but she still smiled warmly for Jonathan. Her lips formed the word "later" in a silent promise to him.

That one silent word had his heart racing more than a raised mast in a hurricane. He couldn't say anything, but once again walked her to the table. This time he set down his glass and pulled out her chair for her. "Mademoiselle," he indicated that the seat was hers to take.

She settled gracefully into the offered chair and set her glass down on the table.

A Taste of Things to come

The meal was amazing, both in content and ambiance. But to Captain Flynn, the most amazing part of the night was the soft conversation and smiles they shared as they ate the meal. There was something about this woman that so fascinated him. Perhaps it was the demonic nature lying below the surface. Perhaps it was just her unusual beauty or the way she spoke. More likely it was a combination of everything that was pulling at his heart.

When he meal was completed, the cook poured two glasses of a fine cordial. Jonathan raised the small glass to Natolii, "Thank you for being with me this eve. I can't remember a more enjoyable time."

She sat back as they finished the meal. A satisfied smile crossed her lips. How long had it been since she had a chance to enjoy herself without worries. "Nor I of late, Jonathan. I must say this has been the best time I've had in a long time."

He placed his linen napkin on the side of his place and arose from his chair. "Let's bring our cordials with us while I show you the ship." He helped her with her chair and then held out his hand to her.

She placed her hand in his and stood gracefully. She picked up the glass with her free hand and smiled softly to him.

He loved the fell of her hand in his and prayed that he hand was not too calloused to be pleasant.

"This is a three-masted barque, designed for speed but adapted for offense and carrying a good amount of cargo when necessary." He slipped his arm around her, "We're on her quarterdeck, and below is my captain's quarters and the stern gallery." He walked her around, pointing out the masts and rigging.

She listened and nodded. He could tell there was a keen mind behind the looks that was taking in everything he was pointing out.

They went down from the quarterdeck to the main deck, then forward to the forecastle. He walked her out to the bow sprint, wrapped an arm around her at the shoulders as he stood behind her and placed his mouth near her ear. "The Gatwick Lady cuts her way through the waves like a knife through fresh baked bread. It comes in handy at times." He smiled and took a sip of the cordial, the liquid tingling his lips.

She took a drink of the cordial and gazed out onto the waters. "I am thinking of coming out of retirement and returning to the flesh trades." It was something she had been considering with all the changes in her life.

He kept his cheek close to the side of her head as the looked out upon the waters that led from the bay to the ocean. The waxing gibbous moon reflected off the water and the gentle lapping of water upon the bow could be heard. "Would it be possible for me to assist you?" he asked softly, barely more than a whisper.

She turned to him then and whispered softly, "If that is your wish, dear one."

He touched her soft cheek with the back of his fingers, a soft caress. He smiled and brought his lips so close to hers that each could feel the other's breath, the scent of the cordial sweet and prevalent. "I think it is no accident that we met at the inn," he whispered, his fingers combing back through her hair just below the ear.

She nuzzled close to his touch and whispered, "Perhaps, though I have yet to be so blessed." She closed the distance between them as she brushed her lips over his.

His hand went behind her head and his lips brushed softly over hers in gentle exploratory touches, sensuously moist, breath being felt. The kiss lingered is such sweet fashion until passion became irresistible and he deepened the kiss and held her tightly against him.

She purred softly into the kiss and moved closer to him, her free hand moved up to cup his cheek.

A soft moan of delight was barely heard as his tongue moved over and around hers. He had found his greatest treasure without ever leaving the dock, and he was not about to let this treasure out of his hands.

She swirled her tongue about his with a soft moan. Yes, perhaps she had a partner once again in this life.

The kiss slowly broke and he held her close to himself and placed little kisses to her hair. She aroused him and he didn't mind if she realized that. They would need to speak of business, but not this night. Tomorrow would be soon enough for that. "Is there any more of the ship you'd like to see?"

"Any suggestions, my dear?"There was that saucy little grin on her lips as she softly purred the question, Her free hand caressing his cheek.

"Well, let's see," he smirked. "There's the cannons, and galley, and....umm...oh yeah. There's the captain's quarters."

She chuckled softly, "Yes, there is that. The Heart of the ship, no?" She gazed into his eyes.

He gazed back into her eyes, the sparkle penetrating though the night, "You really shouldn't miss the heart of the ship. That would be perfectly sinful, no?"

She smiles softly, "Sinful... I do sinful." She winked at him.

He laughed and said, "Ah ha! A woman who does sinful is to be adored!" And he immediately realized that his jest was really but the truth. He did adore her. He had never been so attracted to any woman as he is to Natolii. "Then come, and I'll show you my heart." He held out his arm to her.

She laced her arm in his. "This I will enjoy seeing."