“What are you doing?” Matt asked warily when he woke up in the middle of the night, hearing Sera approach.

“You’re cold. I brought you a blanket,” she said, covering him with it.

Noticing that her bed had no blankets now, he grabbed it and handed it back to her. “I’ll put more wood on the fire.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she told him gently. “Go back to sleep.”

“You’ll be cold.”

“Can we share?”

That stirring entered his chest again, even stronger than before, to the point that it ached. He was about to tell her no when she sat down beside him.

“I won’t bite,” she promised lightly.

He laughed shortly at the absurdity of the thought, then sobered and grumbled, “I might.”

She chuckled softly, disbelievingly. “I’ll take my chances.” She moved his arm, then lay down beside him and rested her head against the inside of his shoulder.

He was too stunned to say or do anything for a moment. An electric feeling went through him as she snuggled close, and he had to force himself to breathe. After a moment, he gave in and pulled the blanket over them. She slid her hand onto his chest and sighed, sounding content.

She fell asleep quickly, but he lay awake for a long time, wondering at the strange feelings she caused. After a while, he wrapped the arm she was lying on around her, feeling awkward and making sure he was gentle. He was worried he might accidentally hurt her somehow. He touched a lock of her hair that fell over her shoulder, wrapping a white-gold curl around his finger. It was just as soft as it looked.

He had been with so many women, but Sera was so unlike anyone he had ever touched before. Carefully, he brought the silky lock to his face and inhaled its scent. She smelled floral, but not like the common flowery shampoos or perfumes that a lot of women used. Whatever flower Sera smelled like, it was lighter, fresher, like spring rain. He let the curl slip from his fingers and watched it spring gently back and rest against her neck.

Very lightly, he brushed his fingertips down the side of her face, then across her naturally pink lips. He could barely see her in the light of the dying fire and dim moonlight that filtered down through the canopy of trees, but it was enough for him to stare. He was mesmerized by her. Everything about her was so soft, so incredibly beautiful. Like some perfect, untouched thing. Like an angel.

His hand stilled, and he looked at it—strong, rough, calloused. He shouldn’t be touching her. He could so easily damage her. He remembered the bruises he had left on Tess and frowned.

He took his hand away and rested it on his stomach, then squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. Tomorrow they would go their separate ways, and he would never see her again… just as it should be.

__________

When he woke up the sun was just starting to rise, and she was still lying there. His arm was still wrapped around her, and in his sleep, he had leaned his head against the top of hers so he could feel her soft hair against his face. He had also moved his hand to cover hers, almost holding it.

He was shocked that he had actually fallen asleep. It was the first time he had ever slept with someone in his arms. He liked it. It felt good to have her snuggled against him, and he didn’t want to move. He only moved his hand off hers and straightened his head a bit; then he just stayed there, holding her while she continued to sleep. He closed his eyes and waited.

It was a while before she stirred. When she got up, he acted like it was her movement that had woken him. He sat up and handed her the blanket, barely looking at her, then pulled on his jacket and lit a cigarette. She offered him a berry muffin, saying she had made it herself before they had left Port Vallyn, but he declined. He was never hungry in the morning.

They set off shortly afterward and were quiet again as they rode. She spent the whole ride leaning back against his chest, seeming calm and comfortable with him. He let her, liking the feel of her as well as the scent of her hair when he bent his head down to surreptitiously smell her. He had the strong urge to wrap his arms around her, to hold her again, but he kept one hand on the saddle horn and the other at his side.

When they got to her uncle’s friend’s house in Glendale, Matt insisted on waiting outside. Why he felt compelled to make sure she had a horse to get home with, he had no idea. But there he was, waiting for her on the front porch, smoking a cigarette and feeling increasingly moody. He just wanted to go home and get back to some sort of normalcy, to get away from her and stop feeling so… vulnerable.

He noticed two brothers, twins, both with long black hair, black clothing, and eyeliner around their blue eyes. They were staring at him and whispering to each other across the street. He scowled at them. Were they with the temple? No, they were too fruity to be any of Malluk’s people. But they looked like they knew him, and they did seem vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t place them. After a while, though, they seemingly lost interest and walked away.

When Sera returned, she greeted Matt with a bright smile. “All is well,” she reported. “He’s even going to come with me—says he hasn’t seen my uncle in a while.”

He felt relieved that she wouldn’t be traveling alone, and he almost rolled his eyes at himself. “Okay, bye.”

She stopped him with a gentle touch.

He glanced down at her small, soft hand holding his large, rough one. He frowned at the contact, and his chest started aching again.

“Thank you,” she told him. “I’d like it if you came to Brunya City, or to my temple in Chendal, to visit me sometime. I’ll be very happy to see you.”

He had no intention of ever doing so, but he nodded anyway. “Yeah. Well, thanks… for the horse and healing.”

“My pleasure,” she replied sincerely.

He nodded again, not looking at her. “Yeah, bye.” He walked away and, with great difficulty, forced himself not to look back. He had gotten her safely to Glendale, now he could just forget about her.

__________

Matt slid onto a stool at the bar in Carrow Tavern later that day and ordered a drink. He lit a cigarette, and before it was halfway finished, a woman was there. At least that much hadn’t changed.

She sat on the stool next to his, leaned against the bar, and pushed back her long, blond hair. Her eyes traveled up and down his body, and her deep red lips turned up in an appreciative smile. “Hi.”

He glanced over. Maybe it was the light hair, but Sera came to mind. Again. He inwardly groaned at himself and pushed away the mental image. “Hi,” he returned in a bored tone.

“So, what’s a beautiful thing like you doing all alone?” she purred.

“There’s one I haven’t heard,” he said sarcastically.

She smirked. “I bet you use it all the time.”

He huffed a smoky laugh before taking a swig of his ale.

“I just thought you looked like my kind of man,” she murmured, “so I came over.”

“You have no idea what kind of man I am,” he said with a hard edge in his voice.

“Let me guess, you’re the kind who has their wicked way with young, innocent beauties.”

“Used to be,” he said flatly.

She actually seemed disappointed. “What happened?”

He rolled his eyes at himself. “A woman.”

“Love?”

He scoffed. “No.”

“But no longer hunting?”

“Didn’t say that.”

“So then, what’s your prey?”

“Women who know what they’re getting into.”

“Like me?”

He eyed her. “Probably.”

“Interested?”

“Not really.”

She pouted. “Why not?”

“I know your type.”

“You know nothing about me,” she shot back.

He abruptly grabbed a fistful of her hair, jerked her closer, and kissed her roughly. When she responded in kind, he shoved her away. “I know enough,” he muttered, then put out his cigarette and walked off. She followed, and he paused, but didn’t look back. “You’re not invited.”

“What the hell’s your game?” she demanded.

He shrugged and started walking again.

She kept up with him. “What was with the kiss?”

“To prove a point.”

“Well, I don’t get it. You’ll have to spell it out for me.”

He turned around, feeling a bit disgusted with her. Why was he even talking to her? Why was he letting some stupid hussy be so damn mouthy? He was getting soft. He inwardly groaned again, but answered anyway. "You’re the same kind as me.”

“What kind’s that?”

“The bad kind.”

She smirked. “Then what’s the problem?”

He suddenly wondered what he was doing. Of course he was off; he hadn’t had anyone in over three weeks, and then he'd had to endure being around Sera—feeling all that desire without any release. He just needed sex and he would be fine. So why was he turning away the offer?

He sighed and shrugged. "Got a room?"

She grinned and led the way.

When they got to the rented room, he took off his belt with his sword, jacket, and t-shirt, tossing them onto a nearby armchair. He walked to the bed and set his silver case and lighter on the side table, then turned to watch the woman as she came to stand in front of him. For some reason, the very sight of her irritated him.

“What’s your name, anyway?” she wondered, a wanton smile on her made-up face.

He stepped closer and ran his hands down her sides until he reached the bottom of her short, black dress. He pulled it up and wasn’t surprised to see that she wore nothing underneath. “You’re done talking,” he told her edgily as he undid his pants.

“But I—”

“Shut up,” he growled. He grabbed her hair again, turned her around, and threw her over the bed. Though she was pretty, in a cheap sort of way, he didn’t want to see her face. Holding her hips roughly, he forcefully entered her. As he moved inside her with a hard, aggressive rhythm, her fingers clutched the dark blanket and she cried out softly. He wasn’t sure if it was in pleasure or pain, but he didn’t care.