☙ January
Patron: Diya
Strengths of Diya: Progressive, original, independent, humanitarian.
Weaknesses of Diya: Runs from emotional expression, temperamental, uncompromising, aloof.
Holiday: First Day, The traditional start of the year, this holiday involves visits to neighbors and family (in remote areas, this was once an annual check to ensure everyone was alive), as well as a town gathering to commemorate the year past, accompanied by drinking and merriment.

☙ February
Patron: Lanoria
Strengths of Lanoria: Reliable, patient, practical, devoted, responsible, stable.
Weaknesses of Lanoria: Stubborn, possessive, uncompromising.
Holiday: Day of Lovers, traditionally many single women preform popular rituals in order to find a good husband or boyfriend. Couples exchange chocolates, cards, gifts and flower bouquets.

☙ March
Patron: Siren
Strengths of Siren: Compassionate, artistic, intuitive, gentle, wise, musical.
Weaknesses of Siren: Fearful, overly trusting, sad, desire to escape reality, can be a victim or a martyr.

☙ April
Patron: Orelia
Strengths of Orelia: Courageous, determined, confident, enthusiastic, optimistic, honest, passionate.
Weaknesses of Orelia: Impatient, moody, short-tempered, impulsive, aggressive.

☙ May
Patron: Logean
Strengths of Logean: Gentle, affectionate, curious, adaptable, ability to learn quickly and exchange ideas.
Weaknesses of Logean: Nervous, inconsistent, indecisive.

☙ June
Patron: Farin
Strengths of Farin: Loyal, analytical, kind, hardworking, practical.
Weaknesses of Farin: Shyness, worry, overly critical of self and others, all work and no play.
Holiday: Summerday, this holiday is universally celebrated as the beginning of summer, a time for joy and, commonly, marriage. Boys and girls ready to come of age don white tunics and gowns. They then join a grand procession that crosses the settlement to the local shrine of Farin, where they are taught the responsibilities of adulthood.

☙ July
Patron: Irenna
Strengths or Irenna: Tenacious, highly imaginative, loyal, emotional, sympathetic, persuasive.
Weaknesses of Irenna: Moody, pessimistic, suspicious, manipulative, insecure.

☙ August
Patron: Varen
Strengths of Varen: Creative, passionate, generous, warm-hearted, cheerful, humorous.
Weaknesses of Varen: Arrogant, stubborn, self-centered, lazy, inflexible.

☙ September
Patron: Arens
Strengths of Arens: Cooperative,diplomatic, gracious, fair-minded, social.
Weaknesses of Arens: Indecisive, avoids confrontations, will carry a grudge, self-pity.

☙ October
Patron: Sorlisle
Strengths of Sorlisle: Resourceful, brave, passionate, stubborn, a true friend.
Weaknesses of Sorlisle: Distrusting, jealous, secretive, violent.
Holiday: All Soul's Day, A somber remembrance of the dead. In some northern lands, the people dress as spirits and walk the streets in parade after midnight.

☙ November
Patron: Desdemona
Strengths of Desdemona: Responsible, disciplined, self-control, good managers.
Weaknesses of Desdemona: Know-it-all, unforgiving, condescending, expecting the worst.

☙ December
Patron: Eurys
Strengths of Eurys: Generous, idealistic, great sense of humor.
Weaknesses of Eurys: Promises more than can deliver, very impatient, will say anything no matter how undiplomatic.
Holiday: Wintersfeast, the largest gathering of friends and family. Grand feasts and the giving of gifts mark the holiday. Lights and decorations are used to welcome loved ones into the home, and summon good luck for the coming new year.

“Good morning,” Dite sang. She had a cup of coffee in one hand and a bottle of pills in the other. Akiko grunted her response, blindly reaching for her glasses on the nightstand. Pushing the thick frames onto her face, she blinked the world into focus. Aphrodite moves closer and handed the steaming mug off to Akiko and sat down on the bed. Akiko shifted to make room for her and sipped from her cup; cream no sugar. Perfect. She cleared her throat and tried talking again.

“Hey,” she said finally, and the other blonde beamed. Akiko felt like hot garbage under the white-toothed, good-morning smile of a fifties pinup. It didn’t help that Aphrodite was still dressed in her vintage nightdress, complete with a gauzy robe and fuzzy kitten heels. Akiko looked down at herself. Same college shirt from the night before, and apparently she’d just barely made it out of her jeans. Her face felt caked in day old make-up, while Dite’s was matte and rosy with a fresh wash.

Aphrodite moved higher on the bed and crossed one leg over the other, her hands worked at opening the pill bottle and shaking a few into her palm. She held them out to Akiko, who picked them up with a grateful sigh.

“Thanks,” she muttered, tossing them in her mouth and swallowing them dry. Aphrodite screwed the cap back on the bottle and placed it on the table. She smiled.

“So,” Aphrodite started, and Akiko closed her eyes against the line of questioning she knew to follow. Aphrodite gently pushed a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. A stray strand of silky locks that had wiggled free from the rollers she wore.

She had rollers in her hair. Akiko couldn’t be sure that she wasn’t in some Brady Brunch dream. An after-dark sexy off-shoot version.

“Sang an awful lot of sad songs at karaoke last night,” she finished and Akiko groaned again.

“I was drunk,” she replied in a weak defense. “And I don’t remember much, but I remember you helping me with a few of those breakup songs.”

“Harden My Heart is a classic.” Aphrodite shrugged. “Did you expect me to resist?”

“I can’t believe you let me do that.”

“You were a hit,” Aphrodite insisted.

Akiko snorted a laugh that she drowned out with her mug.

Aphrodite uncrossed her legs and stretched them out in front of her. Akiko put the mug down and kicked away the sheets. Bouncing towards the opposite edge of the bed, she let her feet hang towards the floor.

“You don’t seem like a woman who wants to get brunch,” Dite observed and Akiko shook her head. Dite briefly pouted even though Akiko couldn’t see it, she recovered with a shrug. “Okay, we can just stay here then. I’ll see you on the couch when you’re cleaned up.”

Both women stood at the same time.

“No more sad movies,” Akiko demanded, disappearing into the connecting bathroom.

A dramatic sigh from her hostess before she closed the door.


When a freshly showered Akiko dropped on the couch she looked better than she felt. The glasses on her face evident that her contacts hadn’t made it into their designated case. Damp hair pulled up into a bun on top of her head, a hoodie she had accidentally stolen from Cain before she’d left home and comfy Lycra . The sweater smelled like his soap and cologne. She pulled it closer.

Aphrodite appeared with huge fleece blanket. She rounded the corner of the hall that led back to the bedroom she shared with Holland, geometric patterned fabric trailing behind her. She’d abandoned the sexy lingerie for a sundress that was slightly less disarming. The rollers were gone, and blonde hair fell over her shoulders in soft waves.

“I ordered Chinese,” she announced, dropping the blanket on top of Akiko’s lap in a massive heap. She then flopped down next to her with a huff.

“Mei fun and dumplings?” Akiko asked, hopefully.

“Of course.”

“And no sad movies?”

“No sad movies,” Dite agreed, covering her heart with one hand. “Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout,” Akiko asked, pushing up her glasses with one hand.

Aphrodite gasped at her accusation. “I was. I still have all my patches, and I sold the most cookies one year.” She leaned forward to grab the remote off the coffee table, and missed they exaggerated why Akiko rolled her eyes.
Akiko unbundled the blanket and arranged it over her legs in a way that would give them both access to it. “Where’s Holland?” she asked, pulling her hood over her hair, and bringing the blanket upwards towards her chin.

“He got called in to do some work for the police department,” she explained, scrolling through the romantic comedy options on Netflix. Akiko hummed her understanding, but fell quiet for a few moments. Dite stopped scrolling on one option, and Akiko shook her head with a frown.

“Hey, Dite?” Akiko asked after a few more silent seconds passed. She pulled her feet onto the couch and tucked them beneath her.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

Aphrodite turned her head to smile at her. “Of course.”

“About my dad?”

Her smile faded, look crossing into something more befitting her puzzlement. “Sure… what about him?”

Akiko adjusted her glasses, before her hand lifted to smooth over her hair. “Why did you two break up?”

Aphrodite nodded slowly, pursing her lips and letting the remote fall back onto the table. She leaned back on the couch and brought the blanket over her knees.

“You know about that?”

“I found a picture of you at the ranch a few years ago. Dad...said you’d dated, but he wouldn’t really talk about it.What happened? I mean, why did you break up?”

Aphrodite shrugged, playing off the words she had yet to say. As if the reason for their falling out had been something mind and uninteresting. “Your father and I both had certain things we weren’t willing to compromise on.”

“Akiko’s brow furrowed. “Like what?”

“Well,” Dite said on the coattails of a sigh. “After he went missing one time, I wanted him to stop being a pilot for the CAF, and he wanted me to stop trying to become an Alpha.”

“But neither of you would?”

“Neither of us would,” she repeated softly.

“But you loved him?”

"It was a long time ago." Aphrodite sighed again, fingers went to her mouth and she picked at the cuticle of her thumb with her teeth. It threatened to ruin her perfect pastel manicure. “I loved him very much,” she admitted.

“He loved you too. He still does, I know it. I’ve seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching. And the way he-” Akiko was cut off by Dite’s soft hand on her cheek. A simple enough gesture to shush the younger woman.

“I will always love your father,” Aphrodite confessed, digging down to the root of Akiko’s questioning. “But sometimes, it doesn’t matter how much you love someone. Sometimes you just can’t be with them.”

A glance from her periphery and she could tell that she had quickly managed to discourage Akiko. This was probably not the best conversation for a young woman in the midst of an awkward relationship fallout. Aphrodite swept her bang away from her face with a delicate hand. Clearing her throat she curled her arms around Akiko’s shoulders and pulled her closer for a hug. She felt Akiko’s shoulder heave beneath her arm, she pressed her cheek to her hair.

“What happened with Sanders and I is not a metaphor for you and Cain,” she explained. “You have more give than I do. I was stubborn and I thought that he wasn’t; that he would give up what he wanted and I wouldn’t have to. I thought I could have everything.”

She could feel Akiko’s tears against her chest, and she pet her hair reassuringly. “You’re not like me, though. And Cain isn’t like your father. The two of you will work this out, and you will be back together before you know it. And your relationship will be stronger because of this.” She shrugged her shoulder and lifted Akiko away from her arm. She took her reddened face with both hands and pushed at tears with her thumbs. Trust me. Okay?”

Akiko sniffed, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand and nodded. She pulled glasses that were foggy and tear-stained off of her face and rubbed at them with the sleeve of the hoodie. “I feel bad for you and dad,” she said quietly.

“Oh, honey,” Dite cooed sympathetically. “You don’t have to feel bad for us. I have Holland and I love him so much, and your father has Lochellan. Besides, if we hadn’t broken up your father wouldn’t have you.”

Akiko lifted one hand, making a face at the same time. “So?”

“So?” Dite sounded shocked. “Sweetie there isn’t a world in which your father would ever choose me over you. You’re one of the greatest things he has. Everyone knows that.” She patted Akiko’s knee just as the doorbell rang. Aphrodite smiled and stood. “That’s the food,” she explained, moving towards the front door.

“Dry those tears,” she demanded as she moved, volume increasing so she could be heard even as she walked away. “Or you don’t get any dumplings.”

Akiko couldn’t help but laugh. A small chuckle escaped her, as she sniffed again and pulled her phone from the arm of the couch. Getting comfortable, she unlocked the device and went directly to her messages. There weren’t many threads to scroll through so it wasn’t difficult for her to find Cain.

>>Hey

Glassy green eyes switched from Sanders’ face to Aphrodite’s with visible effort. A very slow tracking of her gaze. Drusilla beamed at them, and giggled again. “Thanks, Captain,” Drusilla said, a bit of teasing in her voice. She shifted so she sat somewhat normally on the couch. Her hands smoothed over the soft fabric in a rhythm, as if it were the softest thing she’d ever had her hands on. But that wasn’t true. She’d had her hands in Sanders’ hair as he carried her up with stairs to their apartment over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. A very drunk sack of potatoes. The fluffy, blonde locks were admittedly very soft, but she still wouldn’t categorize them as the softest, but they beat the couch.

“Are you sure?” Sanders asked, warily. Aphrodite nodded her head. Drusilla’s friends towered over her, one looking much more concerned than the other. Drusilla waved her hand in a circle, or at least she attempted to. This was apparently meant to indicate that she was fine. Her head dropped to the back of the couch and she giggled again.

“I’m sure.”

They moved away from her and Drusilla lifted her head to watch them walk to the door. Ears swiveled in their direction, but she couldn’t hear what they were talking about. The pounding in her ears was much louder than the whispering voices they were using. She huffed to no one, and bent over slightly to try and grab her own foot. She audibly complained about the wave of nausea that hit her, causing her company to pause in the conversation to look over at her.

She just wanted to take her boots off.

Sanders’ and Aphrodite quickly finished whatever they’d been discussing. She kissed his cheek. He left, and she locked the door behind him.

“Drusilla?”

“I need help,” she replied, still bent at the waist and pressed against her own legs, somehow unable to find her own foot in her current state. Aphrodite sighed and moved around the coffee table to push Drusilla back into a sitting position. She sighed in relief as the desire to vomit passed and relaxed on the couch as Aphrodite started to pull off her boots.

“Did you have fun?” the blonde asked, pulling the zipper down and sliding the thigh-high leather off of Drusilla’s leg.

“Yes,” she replied, very matter-of-fact. Her leg fell limply to the floor when Dite released it and shifted to pick up the other. The same process of unzipping and pulling. “Why am I the only drunk one?” She tried to shrug out of her jacket as she talked, but the leather caught itself around her elbows and she was stuck again. She whined, and Dite immediately moved to her help her. She tossed the jacket over the back of the couch and found herself staring down at the scars on Drusilla’s back. Left exposed by the cut of her tank top. The sight of them always caught her off guard.

“Renton was very adamant that we should get you drunk.”

“What?” she asked, voice pitching. “Why?”

“He didn’t say.”

Drusilla hummed her disappointment and shifted her position to stretch out across the couch. Her tail flopped over her leg and tapped idly against her thigh. She hugged one of the couch pillows to her chest and watched as Dite moved across the room and into the kitchen. She went through the motions of making a pot of coffee.

“I wish Owen had been there,” Drusilla said, apropos to nothing, voice cutting through the silence that had fallen between them. She lifted her head to prop it up on her hand.

“What?” Dite’s sharp reply came from the kitchen as she filled a pitcher with water.

“Sorry. Lieutenant Colonel Hart.” As if Aphrodite’s shock had been scolding her informality.

“No. That’s not what I meant.” Drusilla heard the coffee maker beep and Aphrodite returned to the living room. “Why would you want him to come?”

Drusilla’s eyes narrowed as she looked up at her roommate. Despite her inebriated state she was sensing the judgement in her tone. Drusilla shrugged, rather than explaining herself.

“Drusilla,” Dite’s tone had turned scolding. Dru dropped her head from her hand and rolled onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. She didn’t reply.

“Julianna,” Aphrodite insisted, and she visibly cringed as the name met twitching ears.


“Yes, Maeve?” she shot back. Petty words from between clenched teeth.

“Are you in love with your boss?”

Drusilla was quiet for a long time. She laced her fingers over her stomach, tail twitching lazily where it had fallen over the couch.

“Define love…”

“Oh my god!”

“I don’t know! Okay?” She had a headache and her mouth felt like a desert. She chewed on her bottom lip. She didn’t want to have this conversation right now, didn’t trust herself not to say something revealing with the proper line of questioning.

Questions like, “what do you know?”

She faltered, sitting up and waving her hand as if it would help her grasp the right words. Her eyes squeeze closed and she pinched the bridge of her nose. Her ears fell flat to the crown of her head. “I know...that sometimes he seems sad, and I wish that he wasn’t. I want to smooth my hands across his shoulders and tell him to relax. Or run my fingers through her his hair, and ask him to tell me what’s wrong. I feel like he needs me.” Aphrodite didn’t say anything when she stopped talking. Drusilla pulled her knees towards her chest and leaned heavily on the arm of the couch.

“Sometimes he looks at me for a long time, like there’s something he wants to say, but won’t. When he touches me my heart stops, and when he’s on missions I feel like I can’t breathe.”

Drusilla looked over at Aphrodite. The blonde didn’t say anything, as she pushed herself from the plush armchair and disappeared back into the kitchen. Drusilla was unable to read her expression, but something about her friend’s silence hurt. She felt strangely exposed, like Dite had tricked her into admitting the way she felt and was judging her for it.

“Dite?” she called, craning her neck in the direction she’d gone off too. She could hear a cabinet opening and the clink of a much on the counter. The fridge opened and closed.

“You should go to bed.” Aphrodite’s clipped reply finally came from a distance. “Drink some water so you don’t feel like shit in the morning.”

Drusilla’s ears pinned towards the back of her head, but she stood anyway. Following Aphrodite’s instructions. She was sure she was going to feel like shit, regardless.

“If you could just fill out this paperwork,” she suggested, dropping a pen on top of the stack of papers.

Green eyes fell from the woman’s face, until Rylan could read the words printed at the top of the first sheet. New Patient Information. She pushed the clipboard back with the lightest touch of her fingers. “I’m not a patient,” she expressed eyes lifting again to meet a brown gazed fixed with confusion. “He’s my brother.”

Those brown orbs went wide, looking so much larger having previously been narrowed in suspicion. “Your majesty,” the nurse breathed, awed and Rylan expressed a short sigh. “I’m sorry,” she continued, her voice lowering as if their conversation was suddenly confidential. “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s no problem.” Rylan’s ears pushed forward, her tail appeared behind her head, moving back and forth in a gentle sway. “I’ll be sitting in the waiting area.”

The nurse stuttered through a response, somewhat shocked by her casual run in with the queen. Rylan smiled softly, mumbling her gratitude before she turned to be seated.

Twenty minutes later, a different nurse led Rylan through the twisting back hallways of the old hospital to Kama’s office. She adjusted the strap of her purse on her arm, eyes flicking over the pictures hanging on the stark, white walls. Paintings of flowers and landscapes. Tiger lilies and rolling waves on pristine shores. They were meant to be soothing. Rylan found their blown-up proportions to be overwhelming.

She was disappointed that Kama had not come to retrieve her himself, but she was also not surprised. He seemed content to avoid her until the last possible moment.

The new nurse, this one was blonde and tall and Rylan could not remember her name even though she had been given it, knocked on the door once, and pushed it open without waiting for an answer. She didn’t cross the threshold, but held the door for Rylan to do so. Smiling all the while. For nurses in a trauma wing they all seemed to be disproportionately cheerful. The snapped shut behind her, and her ears twitched.

Kama sat behind his desk, and he did not look up from his paperwork when she entered. That did not, however, stop him from saying, “you look well,” after a half-hearted hello. Rylan looked down at herself. She knew she looked nice, having put some effort into an appearance that was befitting of going out in public, but she didn’t feel well. She said, “thank you,” anyway since they were being polite.

“To what do I owe this visit?” He still did not look up from his paperwork.

“Tell me about Owen,” she demanded. She had not planned for this conversation to be so direct, but his flippant attitude had provoked her.

Kama’s pen stopped moving, and he looked up at her, brow furrowed over dual-colored eyes. “Who?” The question came automatically and swiftly, as if he’d practiced for the inevitability of this conversation with her.

“Owen,” she repeated. She moved across the room to seat herself at one of the chairs in front of his desk. His eyes tracked her the entire way, still keen on playing dumb. “You can drop the act,” she explained, as she arranged herself. She dropped her purse into the second chair and crossed one leg over the other. “I’ve already met him.”

Kama’s confusion shifted too easily into a frown. As if that downward curve of his mouth was the natural resting position of his face. “He found you.” It wasn’t a question. “Of course he found you. He never knew when to leave things alone.”

Rylan was quiet, her shock having rendered her speechless though her expression remained neutral. With that one heated response Kama had already admitted to his wrongdoing. Her hands clenched into fists in her lap, her ears fell to the crown of her head. “He’s says he’s my husband.” Soft words pushed from between clenched teeth.

Kama’s gaze snapped to her and there was a sharpness in his look. Suggesting, somehow, she was the one who had done something wrong. He did not answer her.

“Is that true?” she pressed, ears swiveling to attention.

Her brother shifted in his chair, and pushed an angry hand through carefully crafted curls that fell over onto his forehead.

“Kama-”

“Yes.”

Another shocked silence fell between them. Rylan’s throat ran dry and she swallowed thickly in an attempt to rid herself of the sensation. Her fingers unraveled and she looked down at the red half-moons her nails had embedded into her palms. “Is it all true?”

Kama shrugged, rolling to the side in his chair, like he couldn’t be bothered to face her. “That depends on what he told you. He has a flair for the melodramatic.”

“He told me he died, and that you took my memories of him.”

His brooding quiet was enough of an answer for her.

“Why?” she demanded.

“Why do you think? Elliot.” He hissed their brother’s name as if it angered him just to say. A look on his face suggestive of a vile taste left on his tongue.

“You erased the memories of my dead husband...because of Elliot?”

“Isn’t it always Elliot!” Kama turned back in his chair to glare at her. “For a century and a half it’s been nothing but you and Elliot and this feud between you ruining everyone’s lives.”

“You-”

“I did nothing but bring you to him,” Kama interrupted before she could make her claims. “Darcias cast the spell, and Elliot did the usual. Tantrums in the form of threats until he got his way.”

Rylan’ brow furrowed, her ears pinning backwards. “You just gave me up to him?”

Kama threw up his hands, they fell back into his lap with a smack. “He threatened my family, Rylan.” He thought he saw her almost wince at the name and he knew Owen had told her too much. “Victoria and Isabella. He threatened their lives, and Elliot does not make idle threats.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could have figured something else out.”

“And risk the life of my wife and her child? I am done putting my family in harm’s way for you.”

“What about me?” Her voice rose.

“Rylan, please,” he said, warning her of her own volume.

She lifted a hand to save him the trouble of trying to control her. “What about my family? My children - your niece and nephew- do they mean so little to you?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it!” she stood, her chair tipping backwards with the force of her movement. She slammed her palms down on the polished surface of his desk. She inhaled deeply, standing straight and forcing her hands through her hair. It fell down her back in tight curls she hadn’t bothered to straighten. Her hands settled on her face. “How long was he dead before you did this?” she asked from behind her fingers.

“Six years.”

“How long ago did you take him away?” She always said it like that. Taken. He’d been taken from her. Like something precious that had been stolen from her grasp.

“Four years ago.”

The unmistakable sound of a muffled sob, and she let her hands fall from her face. Eyes already shining and red-rimmed. She was always so quick to tears. “Four years ago,” she repeated. “Is this why Anita ran away? Is-is this why Cain stopped visiting me? You did this?”

Once again, Kama was silent.

“You took everything from me, and left me with… with what? This feeling of unexplained loss, these half-formed dreams like memories of a man I thought I didn’t know?”

“All in all you were not handling yourself well…”

“My husband died!” This she yelled, her voice filled the room and no doubt carried down the hall and back to reception.

“He was in a dangerous line of work,” he said the words and had no idea as to how they were so similar to one’s Owen had said to her a few nights ago. “These things do happen.”

Her thumb smoothed over the rings on her finger; one’s that she had kept after their meeting in the bar. There was something soothing about the motion. “How long were you planning on keeping me this way?”

Kama didn’t answer. In truth he didn’t know. This was not his plan.

“He’s alive now.”

“I didn’t know Elliot would do that.”

“But you went along with his plan anyway.”

“He threatened my family.”

“Fix it!” she screamed, her own words echoed in her ears, and they twitched atop her head. Tears spilled forth, leaving wet tracks down her cheeks to pool along her jaw. “Fix me. I can’t do this. I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t look at him and not know who he is.”

“Darcias cast the spell,” he explained, Rylan groaned her frustration and turned to pace the room. “You’ll have to speak with her,” his own tone had gotten louder, as if he expected she wouldn’t be able to hear him over her pacing. “Elliot is the source of this. Why didn’t you go to him?”

Rylan stopped pacing with her back to her brother. They both knew why she hadn’t gone directly to Elliot. She wasn’t any less scared of him than anyone else. The scars on her back itched.

Kama sighed. “There’s nothing I can do, Rylan.”

She turned around. She snatched her purse from the chair, and stared down at him for a few passing heartbeats.

“My name is Julianna.”

They were a dozen almost meetings.

She was the pretty face leaving the bank when he stepped inside. A timid 'excuse me' as she slipped past him in a wash of perfume like flowers.

He was the handsome one disappearing behind the doors of the elevator she'd just missed. A crooked smile as they slid closed. Hands help up in something like a sorry.

She was the tall chai latte two orders before his venti black coffee.

He was the pint of Guinness and the shot of Jameson across the bar from her pink cosmopolitan.

It had sort of gotten to the point where they recognized each other. Small smiles of acknowledgement, finger waves, and quiet, surprised ‘hi’s, but they had never lingered. Never had a conversation, one or both of them usually busy with one thing or another.

Sometimes they missed each other entirely. She was busy trying to find a hastily scribbled address for a delivery, and he was deep in some story with his friends. They were the loud laughter at her back as she pushed her way into an office building.

“Why don’t you talk to him?” Her friends would ask, huddled around a table in a noisy nightclub, heads pressed together to hear each other over the bass.

“I don’t know him,” she’d retort, voice rising higher with the song.

“That’s why you talk to him!” they would shriek as the music reached a crescendo. They would all laugh as the track faded out.

“Is she hot?” His friends would ask, forming a half-circle around a pool table in a smoky bar. Watching in unison as he lined up his next shot.

He waited to answer until he’d solidly struck the cue, knocking the eight ball into the corner pocket. “Yeah, I guess so,” he’d reply over their defeated groans.

“Like how hot?” they’d press, after another shot of tequila.

“I don’t know,” he’d say to distract them, the vowels of the word drawn out slowly with his intoxication. He shrugged his shoulders. “Like… a nine-point-seven. I guess.”

“A nine-point-seven?” One would say, while another murmured, “holy shit.”

“So why haven’t you fucked her?”

He shrugged again, using a long swallow of beer to avoid the answer.

“Sairus, can you help me with this?” She was struggling to pull a large wreath decorated in wildflowers from the back of her jeep. It would have been easier had she not also been balancing a vase of blue dahlias against her hip.

He’d seen the woman having difficulties from his post near the burial plot. He looked around because he was pretty sure she had an assistant wandering around somewhere. He heard her grunt in frustration, so he walked over to her. Coming up behind her, he took the vase without asking. She sighed, and didn’t look at him, automatically moving to use both hands to maneuver the wreath.

“Thank you,” she breathed, turning around with wreath in hand. “Oh!” she startled when she saw him. “Sorry, I thought you were- never mind. Thank you.” She ceased rambling for a few moments, green eyes flitting across his face. Her dark brow furrowed. “It’s you!” she said suddenly, hitching the wreath over her shoulder.

The left corner of his mouth tilted upwards, but there was no humor in his grey eyes. “Hey.” A simple reply. He was less surprised to see her somehow. A part of him felt like he had expected it. Her random appearances had become something of a fixture in his life.

Her helper reappeared before they could say anything else. The large man took both the wreath and the vase and after she instructed him to their placement, he was gone again. She shifted from one foot to the other, pushing a lock of curling hair behind her ear. She looked briefly at her shoes, and then up at him again. She reached out and placed a gentle hand against his arm. “I’m sorry for you loss,” she murmured, piecing the situation together easily enough.

“Thank you,” he replied tightly, his gaze swept away from her. Across the grounds of the memorial garden. Filled with white marble headstones of other soldiers that had died in service. He removed his cover, clutching it in one white gloved hand. He looked nice in his dress uniform, she didn’t comment on it. Didn’t seem like the time or the place. He offered his empty hand in a shake.

“Lieutenant General Owen Hart,” he introduced.

She took his hand in her own. “Julianna,” she replied. She had always assumed he’d been in the military, but not that he had been such a high ranking officer.

Julianna brought her own hand back to her side, crossing it across her stomach and curling fingers around the opposite arm. Someone was calling his name. A sharp bark of the singular syllable across the yard. He nodded politely to her, before securing the cover over blonde strands and walking off towards the command.

Sairus reappeared. “Everything’s set. You ready to go?”

Julianna’s eyes tracked Owen as he joined a group of men standing near the perfect rectangle of a freshly dug hole.

“Yeah. Uhm. Yeah, let’s go.”

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive, man?” A heavy hand on his shoulder, a pounding in his head. A muddling of his senses. The taste of bile on the back of his tongue.

“Yeah,” he said. He maybe lied. Grey eyes wouldn’t meet hazel ones. Another crooked smile. “Just tired.” He maybe lied some more. “I’ll catch up with you guys in the morning.”

Owen left the party early, because of course they would have thrown a party. Sanders would have wanted it that way. Standing in the lawn, Owen breathed in the cool night air. He tilted the beer bottle he still held on its end and watched the rest of the amber liquid pour in the grass. He tossed the bottle behind him and pushed hand through his hair.

“It’s dark,” Sairus commented, but it sounded more like a warning.

Julianna zipped up her sweater, pulling up the hood to cover dark hair. “I’ll be fine,” she replied. “I ride my bike home all the time,” she reminded him. He fixed her with a hard stare. She ignored it as she pulled her iPod out of the pocket of her jacket, pushing the earbuds into her ears.

“You know I’ll be careful.”

Owen blinked and ran a hand across his face. He blinked, rapidly before squinting. He tried to find the road in the blurry darkness and the bright glare of the headlights.

Julianna sat straighter on the seat of her bike, carefully letting go of the handlebars until she was sure she had her balance. When the bicycle continued forward without threat of toppling over, she lifted her hands into the air. Wind rushed past her face, billowing her hood out around her cheeks. She inhaled and closed her eyes. Holding the breath. She opened her eyes to watch her breath billow out in a puffy white cloud. She was vaguely aware of the sound of tires on gravel. She could hear the approaching car over the music. She wasn’t worried, her jacket was white and she had a light on the back of her bike. As long as she stayed in the bike lane she was fine.

He hadn’t seen her until it was too late. He hadn’t noticed the cyclist in the lane next to him until he’d swerved into her. He had only closed his eyes for a moment. He was so tired. It was the sound that caught his attention and he slammed on the brakes. He’d collided with something. Someone?

Whatever-whoever- it had been rolled across the hood of the vehicle, connecting with the windshield before sliding back off again and hitting the ground.

For a moment it was quiet. If you didn’t count the pounding in his ears. “Oh my god.” He could almost make out the words over his beating heart. Someone kept saying them over and over. Eventually, as he opened the door and stepped out of the vehicle he realized it was him. He couldn’t breathe, he clawed his hands through his hair as he rounded to the front of the vehicle. “Oh my god,” he said it again. He didn’t know if he was capable of saying anything else. He stood over the motionless form of the person he had hit. As he moved closer he spotted the tangle of metal and rubber he assumed was a bicycle catching the glare of his headlights.

Owen knelt closer to the body, petite and feminine and he could have sworn he recognized the curve of her silhouette. He moved close enough to roll her over, and he couldn’t smother the sound like a sob the escaped him against his will.

Julianna gasped and then coughed. Both actions resonated with too much effort, with too much liquid. Blood stained her chin. Scared green eyes rolled wildly, looking for something to settle on. The found his face, half-illuminated in the darkness. “You,” she rasped, somehow, like she was pleased to see him.

He dropped to the asphalt and pulled her into his arms. She was small and light and easy for him to arrange her against his chest and in his lap.

“I’m so sorry,” he said automatically. He said it again, and again over her labored breathing. He may have been crying. He didn’t know for sure, but his face was hot and wet. She coughed again, and they both winced. He held her tighter against him. He used a hand to push hair away from her face.

She smiled at him. Why was she smiling at him? He would never forget the way she smiled at him.

Julianna lifted a hand, stained with dirt and marred with scrapes. She pressed it against his cheek. She pushed at the wetness on his face with her thumb. “I’m sorry about your friend,” she whispered. Perhaps she misinterpreted the reason for his tears, perhaps she didn’t care. Perhaps, she didn’t want what felt like her final moments being angry at him. “I’m cold,” she said suddenly.

“Don’t talk,” he demanded quietly, one hand searched desperately for his phone. His cell wasn’t on him, he didn’t know where it was. He didn’t want to leave her to find it, and didn’t trust himself back in the car. “I have to get my phone,” he told her, but she didn’t reply.

“Julianna?”

Her eyes had fallen closed and her body was heavier against his, fingers trailed away from his face to drop against her stomach[/align].

“Julianna!”

Julianna woke up because she was cold. At least, she thought that was what woke her up. It seemed accurate since she so hated the sensation. At some point the blankets and the husband keeping her warm had been removed, and the flimsy lingerie she wore was doing nothing to fight the chill. A chin rough with stubble nuzzled against her knee, her leg twitched and it was then that she noticed her supposedly missing husband had positioned himself near the end of the bed. She lifted her head to look down at him, grey eyes stared back up at her a mischievous grin pulling the left corner of his mouth. Moonlight filtered through open curtains, but she could see him near perfectly anyway. She smelled faintly of the expensive and flowery soap that she always used; a scent he would always associate to their time together.

Slowly, Owen made his way up her thigh, lips and tongue leaving a wet trail on her soft skin. Lean, flat muscles tensed under his touch and she parted her legs to make room for him. He repositioned himself, sliding into the space she had made and settling onto the bed. His hands smoothed over her skin until fingers hooked into the hem of her panties. He looked up again, making sure to meet her gaze.

“Do you want me to stop?”

She dropped her head back onto the pillows, ears twitching as she lifted her hips to assist him in pulling the thin material off of her body. Her tail curled against her spine, trapping itself beneath her weight. “Don’t you dare.”

He smiled and tossed the article off the side of the bed. He wasted no time, lowering his mouth to the delicate curve of her hipbone. Her breath fell in a sigh, a hand lifting to comb through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. He nipped at her skin with his teeth and her breath hitched, her whole body tensing. His mouth dipped lower towards the apex of her thighs; she smelled less of soap and more of need. Even softer than her thigh, she was hot and wet under his tongue as he licked her slowly; teasing.

The hand on his head curled into a fist in his hair, trembling; her thighs, too, trembled as she clamped them over his ears and he smiled as he kissed her. Kissed the heat between her legs. Even with his ears covered, he could hear the purring moans she made when his lips closed around her clit. He mouthed her name against her sex: Julianna. And even though she couldn’t have realized what he did, she answered him, her voice shaking with pleasure and resonant purrs: “Yes. Oh. Oh yes.”

He slid his hands up her thighs and hips, flattening his palms over her stomach. He felt it rise and fall as she drew short, unsteady breaths. He felt it clench as his lips and tongue teased her. Further up, he cupped her breasts through her camisole, they fit perfectly against the palm of his hand. He squeezed gently- too gently. Her other hand settled on one of his, pulled it tightly against her. He dug his fingers into her flesh, rolling one taut nipple between forefinger and thumb and she whimpered softly, legs rising, ankles crossing between his shoulder blades. Her body rippled under his touch; the hand in his hair tightened.

He did not let up until those tremors quieted.