The Most Dangerous Game

[Roland Gilliad]

Good Luck Comes to those who are patient enough to recognize when it has struck..if you value the life of that hound, I suggest you send him away. This is to be a game between hunters. Not hunters and their pets.

*IT was quiet..He hated dogs. They were keen in senses ,but useless in fights. Even the Mastiff's he had seen could be taken care of with a well placed dart...Lions, however. He had respect for. He was curious to see if she had one of those...*

I take it you are the owner of this island....Scince I cannot trust you, and You have no reason to trust me, we are at a bit of an impass. Any suggestions how we could fix this situation?

*It held a querying note..in one hand, the long, curved arabian dagger..in the other, the throwing dagger, blackened and ready...any sudden movements and he would rid himself of that dog....Shawn did not sweat ,but his eyes gleamed just gently...He could tell she was good. He could tell she would not play by any rules. Which would make this game that much more exciting.*

 

[Mistress Jorja]

General Jorja Zaroff

There was no fear in his eyes, Jorja marveled. She called Teufel aside, stepping slightly in front of where her canine companion sat. Eyes glittering darkly, she held her hands out in front of her, palms skywards and empty.

“Now, sir, you wouldn’t really attack an unarmed, helpless, completely inferior woman, now would you?” she scoffed.

Moving a step closer, her toes sank slightly into the damp earth. Any trace of humor vanished from her face.

“Why, pray tell, are you on my island? My private island, I might mention,” she raised an eyebrow, waiting for his answer, “Come now. ShipTrap is hardly a place for the timid.”

“And what ever is to prevent from calling my guards and having you thrown off this very cliff? What, indeed, besides the restrictive social bindings of being ‘civilized’. But this is not Russia. This is not England. This land is mine, and mine alone…”

Jorja was only further infuriated by the smugly confident grin plastered on the strangers face. She thrived on the fear in other’s eyes. Oh, how she longed to return to her bedchamber. Her lust was slowly being melted into anger.

Teufel let out a low growl, emphasizing his agreement with his mistress’s not-so-subtle threat. She stroked his head with her fingertips, the tawny golden fur metallic in the faint light.

Ivan’s shadow blotted out the flickering luminance of the chateau’s doorway, and Jorja merely blinked in his direction. He remained stationary, watching the scene play out before him with an expressionless face.

 

[Roland Gilliad]

You are hardly Unarmed, Hardly helpless, and HARDLY inferior. I Washed up on the shores here, Seeking the place where I Could continue to hunt without fear of being tracked down by my government.

What is preventing You? The same thing preventing me from throwing this dagger. The thrill of the hunt. That taste of your foes blood after a thrilling chase through the brush. I have felt it. All over the world. Human and animal. And despite all of my attempts, I could never find my equal. The person who would push every skill I had to it's very limit. The thrill of the possibility of finding my better in a one on one hunt. besides, Unless they were armed with machine guns, hardly an honorable way to defeat a foe, they would not find me easy prey. I do not fear death, to the world I am already dead. nothing is waiting for me back in England or America. I am free to hunt with impunity.....

*his eyes glittered for a moment..*

You are angry...Because I am confident? So Different for you to face a foe who has absolutely nothing to lose right from the start...I fear not death! why fear the end? I will know when I die that I have either found my better, or that there -is- no better.

As for civilization, I killed for the heads of civilization, Did things which most would consider barbaric.....And so now you know who I am. My name is Shawn. Shawn Williams. And now I ask again for your Name, Now that I know even if you offered hospitality, it would be nothing more than a chance to get me into your lair, where YOU will hold the advantage.

 

[Mistress Jorja]

General Jorja Zaroff

“Come, Teufel,” the General said shortly, turning her back on the cornered stranger. Her own throaty growl of disinterest was mimicked by that of the German Shepard as she climbed the stairs.

“There are far better things to waist my time on than mincing words with an overzealous amateur,” she spat as she glanced back at him.

He was caught off guard that she had willingly turned her back on him, armed, as he was, to the teeth. Fool, Jorja thought disdainfully, as she realized he had swallowed her bluff. Playing off of that, she nudged Teufel inside, lingering on the doorstep.

“I would suggest you throw down your knives and allow Ivan to search you. Otherwise, feel free to accept the ruthless ‘hospitality’ of my island’s other inhabitants. Although if you don’t fancy the prospect of being skinned alive, I wouldn’t suggest that particular route.”

The General hurriedly muttered her instructions to Ivan. She wanted the man searched entirely and fed well. Humming softly to herself, she set out a wine bottle, distinctive only in the plainness of its blue label, placing a crystal glass beside it.

This was one of Zaroff’s more popular mixtures. Laced with a mild sedative, it was not nearly as potent as, say, the purple label. Those were locked away in a high drawer of her wardrobe.

But this would be enough to give her a distinct physical advantage, adding to the mental market, which she was more than positive she had already cornered.

 

[Roland Gilliad]

*He was ready for just about everything...except that. Damnit. She would deny him his hunt..for now. Let her. He could wait. He was -patient-...Most of the time, He knelt down in the darkness, quickly burying The Ornate Curved Dagger, hiding it about a foot down, then he came out, A Shock of Brown hair, Carefully tended to, Very short, and Dark, amber eyes. He obviously worked out a great deal, he was, to be perfectly honest, Lean and Mean. He looked much like an extremely hungry wolf. He forked over the remaining throwing dagger, Knowing no matter how much he patted him down, he wouldnt find the other hidden weapons. He would have to hack his Thick Boots into tiny little peices to do that. It took ten minutes to satisfy this giant man, Then he was led inside....*

<I>God how easy it would be.......wait till midstep throw his foot off balance...dive, bury one of these lovely daggers into his throat....But I've got to hold my hand. I can wait...She is a wolf who will not come out of her lair yet. She is dangerous..It is in her -eyes-...I can wait...Even the cleverest of my prey have made mistakes. It is simply a matter of time</I>

*He reminded himself sternly, he had a lope, Not a walk, a -lope-, his eyes constantly flitting from corner to corner...Hmm. Few guards, all of them need to be well Hidden....Wine? Blue Label? Cant be good..*

Sorry sir.

*He spoke, now in a smooth british accent. No sense denying his Homeland now*

I dont Drink. Dulls the senses you know, Not somethign I Can particularly Risk at this moment You know.

*His eyes glittered, darting from side to side. There would -have- to be some way of looking into this room...Mirrors? No, those were too unreliable...Peep holes were Possible..but that would mean they worked both ways...He wasnt sure. He was sure as hell being watched from -somewhere-....He brought his attention full circle to this Giant of a man...who was even moreso, as it is now noticed that he cannot be more than 5 and a half feet Tall....His hands, Once dirty, are now covered by Leather Gloves, Black and blending perfectly with the rest of his bodysuit. No normal clothing either. Not that he intended to change into anything SHE Gave him. Paranoia had it's uses...*

 

[Mistress Jorja]

General Jorja Zaroff

Jorja kept a close eye on the stranger. He looked far more confident than those in her clutches usually did. This only served to confirm her suspicion that there was something - both figuratively and literally – up his sleeves.

She chuckled softly to herself as he waved off the wine. Smart boy, aren’t you? Not that it mattered; the food being prepared that moment was laden heavily with the same extracts that went into the wine.

Be mine…or starve…completely your choice.

Lounging on her canopy bed, Jorja spread the confiscated weapons Ivan had brought her out on the silky gauze of sheets.

Effective and deadly…

Completely utilitarian, but also completely boring. That simple fact spoke volumes. If one could not deem anything but such sterile, emotionless pleasures from the kill, then they had no business hunting in the first place.

Pulling on a half-length dressing gown, Jorja tucked the twin of the fallen pistol into her sash.

Descending the white marble stairs behind where he sat with her usual confident, calculated movements, the General smiled as she could see him struggling not to turn around and look.

“You look tense, doll. Relax…relax…” she cooed, laughter adding a lilt to her smooth accent.

His hand shifted under the linen napkin, the rustling material giving him away in the deathly silence.

“Bad idea number one. I can draw mine faster than you can draw yours. Rethink your move carefully.”

 

[Roland Gilliad]

*Shawn had not, yet, Touched the Food, He was, as she could See, Quite impressed with the Opulent surroundings, He smiled as she checked off his Power play..*

Gutsy move shawn..pity it didnt work...

*His hand withdrew from the napkin. No sense in taking a shot that wouldnt do any good except get Him Killed. she struck him as the type who would feed you Chocolate only to have you discover it was laced with Cyanide. that made her Cocky. And THAT made her open to mistakes*

Fair enough.

*He allowed, quietly, And Licked his slightly dry lips Gently, Removing the Water Flask from His Suit, Checked, and Prepared himself, he moistened his lips, and his throat just a little.*

Better save this...Never know when I might need it next...

*She had taken a seat at the far end of the table, so Now even in the Light, he could size her up a little better. Many of his suspicions confirmed, She was obviously tough, Strong, and Fast. Well trained, and without question Deadly as hell. She already underestimated him, Which was good. He could afford to make Rookie mistakes NOW, And lead her to believe he was a Complete moron at The Game. Then she would later discover, Likely during her last moments, Just how wrong she was. But he didnt underestimate her. Not for a second. He preferred To Overestimate, And plan accordingly. She was smart enough to have done somthing to the wine. The Generic Lable told him that from the start, NO ONE who truely enjoyed Wine covered up the original Labels. It would have been a better move to Keep the originals, So he could approve of the year and make. his Expression was carefully schooled, but he allowed a hint of his amusement with all of this as he examined the meal. The obvious quality making as much difference as Chalk to Cheese according to his normal meals. He had never had facilities, Foodstuffs, or anything like this. He simply couldnt afford it. He'd seen them often enough on missions, But never sampled, now he was under the steel, unyielding gaze of this powerful woman, Who had him in a rather tight spot at the moment*

Im afraid it comes with the territory..

*He remarked, somewhat Dryly*

Not to mention the fact that I've got no real guarentee you wont shoot me with that Gun Beneath your sash. It tends to ruin the mood and the appetite.

*It was scincere. So was the sly chuckle that effounted from him next*

Mi Apologies. I find this situation Highly amusing, and at the same time Petrificatingly Frightening. Yes, Madam, I feel Fear. As acute as any man, if that is some consolaton to you.

*He was being the epitome of polite. Hoping he could salvage something between him and the woman...He really did not want an opponent who hated him into the ninth hells..*

 

[Mistress Jorja]

General Jorja Zaroff

The General stood at his comment, taking the bottle and glass from the middle of the table. Draping herself over the chair to his right, she uncorked the blue crystal bottle with her teeth.

“If you’re not going to take me up on my offer, someone may as well, right?”

She studied him for a moment unabashedly, before raising her half-filled glass.

“To the good fortune of travelers – from far and wide – whom Lady Luck deemed desirable enough to set them down on ShipTrap.”

Taking a long drink, her lips stained the rich color of fine wine, Jorja pouted at him, extending the hand that held the glass.

“My own exotic concoction. Sure you don’t want a taste?”

Zaroff had used the same essences on her for so long that she had slowly become immune to them. The wine had a slightly unnatural hint of anise to it, but other than that it didn’t affect her brain or heighten her senses as the novice alchemist had intended.

Tentatively, she ran her fingers along the nape of his neck, tracing a line down his collar bone and over his shoulder. When he turned to look at her, she pulled away quickly, as if he might bite. Flicking her tongue over her lips, she brushed back her hair.

“So what do you think of my tropical kingdom so far, newcomer? I, for the inquiring minds, am the sole proprietress of this domain. General Jorja Zaroff.”

 

[Roland Gilliad]

*He mused for a moment, Stirring the food once more, he paused, his eyes glinting...He was stuck. Trapped between a Rock and a Warm place. there was no win situation out of this. She would have the first Round of the fight. But The true masters knew it was only the first round...*

And I as I said, Am Shawn Williams. Zaroff? Ah. now THAT is a Name I have heard before.

*he chuckled to himself, and took the glass, admiring the Color in the light*

I Dont suppose I could persude you to show me a little Mercy? No? Didnt think so. Ah well.

*He raised it high, and Said, in an amused Tone of Voice

Laissez le bons temps rouler!!

*And took a long, healthy sip of the wine*

 

[Mistress Jorja]

General Jorja Zaroff

Jorja smiled broadly as he sipped at Zaroff’s concoction. She wondered briefly what Shawn knew about Zaroff and his history, for she had never been able to find out anything from the General himself.

She talked softly with Shawn for a while, each of his answers becoming more broken and unintelligible. He made a valiant effort at the end to grab for his knife, but it was too little too late. She wrapped her fingers gently around his hand and pried it from him so he wouldn’t end up cutting himself.

Snapping her fingers for Ivan, she ordered for Shawn to be taken up to her bedchambers and secured. He was completely out of it at the moment, but she wasn’t about to take any chances. Where there was a will there usually was a way, but she doubted he would choose to pay the price.

Stopping at Parker’s door, Jorja pressed her ear to a crack in the wood door. His heavy breathing was audible from the corridor, although if it was from his fitful sleep or a reliving of his evening with her pet, she was unsure.

A hand brushed her thigh and she jumped, turning to face Evangeline. Drawing the young woman to her, she ran a finger across the back of her neck, forcing the substantially smaller Evangeline to look up at her.

“Did you enjoy your evening, love? One of these days you can recount the details of it to me; but I have a feeling I’ll be finding out first hand before the week is out.”

Letting her go, Jorja strode to her own bedchambers, with Evangeline trailing obediently behind. She admired Shawn with an objective view. His taught, lean body was proof of his months spent in the jungle. He was as true a hunter as she was huntress.

Fluffing the pillows, she added another one beneath his head, raising his lips almost level with hers. She resisted the carnal urge and instead satisfied herself with breathing in his scent.

Turning to make sure Evangeline was huddled in the corner and watching every move, Jorja emptied the pistol and placed the bullets in her jewelry box. She tucked the empty gun beneath the mattress where its permanent residence was.

Slowly and meticulously, she went about removing his garments, neatly folding them and placing the pile on a high shelf in her wardrobe. The second knife she found was stashed in a porcelain vase in case she needed it quickly.

Checking Ivan’s ability to use locks, she fingered the key that hung around her neck, huddled in the valley of her breasts. Admiring Shawn’s naked skin which gleamed a healthy bronze in the candlelight, she covered him with a thin sheet to preserve his false sense of modesty.

Stroking Evangeline’s hair, Jorja settled on the plush red couch, watching him sleep with the glint of the hunt in her eyes.

 

[Roland Gilliad]

*It was darkness for only about a half an hour. Glad she hadnt given him anything stronger, he remained in a state of rest many minutes after she had disrobed him....the lumbering fool Ivan neglected to Bind his feet. He made a mental note to show him just how powerful one's legs could become, running ten miles every single morning before breakfast. Later though, he gently tested the bonds on his hands. Very strong steel Cuffs. his fingers, slowly, Wistfully felt the chain that bound them together..Still strong, but not undefeatable. But they would take TIME to beat. Somthing he didnt have at the moment..Two figures in the room...Two distinct Odars...The Wine smell of The General..and another. Recently Cleaned. Young. Hmm. Afraid too. someone was being made to watch...He considered his opportunities...Boots, now high up, contained the last of his covert weapons....She had put another of his knives somewhere...and somthing beneath the bed and in a box to his far right...She was bound to still have plenty of weapondry on her. Hmm. Bad sitch. He might just have to grit his teeth through whatever she put him through on this one. At least till she left his room and left him alone. Once that happened, He could break these Bindings, and take his advantage. Hmm.....Pucker Time Shawn. She knows you're awake now. His eyes opened, as if groggy, he slurred his voice of one asleep, not alert. Let her believe what she will. He was A Superb Actor when it came to things like this. It was perfectly believable*

Whazza...preeetyy strong...shtuff....

*laying it on a little thick there, eh williams? lighten it up slowly*

knew yew were clever Zaroff....

*He grinned to himself*

must be somekinda..muscle relaxant...er somthin like dat...

*Not bad, Not bad. Nothing to win an Award over. But keep your mind on the Job...She was gonna make her move next..

 

[Mistress Jorja]

General Jorja Zaroff

Jorja checked the gold stopwatch that sat on an end table, depressing the metallic button at the top.

“Thirty seven minutes Shawn. Not bad for a few swallows. Although I was hoping you’d be awake sooner…” she let the last sentence fall off a proverbial cliff, the inflections clinging in the thick air.

She started to disarm herself, but realized he was squinting at her intently. A wicked smile spread over her face, and she moved closer.

“I’m sorry, darling, I didn’t realized you wanted to watch,” she purred.

Placing her foot on the nightstand, raised well above her waist, she slipped her fingers beneath her garter and pulled it down with painstaking deliverance. Tilting her head back with every inch of skin it slid lower on, she let out a breathy sigh as she kicked it off with the tip of her toes, the dagger blade clattering into the corner.

She laughed as he made a halfhearted grab for the knife a few seconds after she had tossed it away. Jorja caught his wrist in her grasp, a gentle squeeze conveying the taught strength contained in her limbs, that of a lynx ready to pounce.

Straddling Shawn’s still drug-affected body, she stroked his head for a minute, combing his dark brown hair into place with her nails. With only her silky chemise and a thin sheet between them, she could feel his heartbeat, slow and steady. Licking her lips, she traced a finger over his eyelids, lowering her head to whisper in his ear, “you have beautiful eyes…golden, like a tigers...”

 

[Roland Gilliad]

*Thoughts ran thorugh his head, and he quickly calmed them down, those same eyes glittering as she spoke...he smiled...a calm, sultry sort of smile*

I am a Tiger, Jorja. Just like you. Both Beautiful and Deadly.

*he whispers back Gently, His arms tense just a little, as he chuckles oh so slyly as she gives him a long look, He smiles a little, as he gives her a nice look over. If she wasnt more deadly than Cyanide, He'd find her quite attractive. He does anyway, point of fact. She gives him one of her sly looks and stands up again, and he waits for her next moves..*

 

[Mistress Jorja]

General Jorja Zaroff

Jorja jerked back as if she had left her fingers too long in a candle’s flame. His voice was clear and sharp, his sentence structure perfect, and his eyes able to reason and convey emotion fluidly. That was not how things were supposed to work.

She pursed her lips and glared at him. The drug was supposed to wear off gradually. So gradually, in fact, she had thought about not having him restrained at all. She was positive she would have enough time before he was fully awake to take care of him as needed.

Growling deep within her throat, she stood and stalked to a trunk on which on candelabra burned. Licking her finger and thumb, she extinguished each one in a deliberate fashion. The room lighting had gone from sensuous and romantically dim to anxiously dark. Dragging Evangeline by the arm, Jorja made her sit on the trunk, the smoke shimmering over her distinctive Greek features.

Taking the lone candle that was still lit, Jorja placed it on the bedside, climbing back onto Shawn. She could feel him respond; his body tensing as if he didn’t want to submit to his obvious desires.

“Does having an audience turn you on, Shawn? Or do you want me to get rid of her so you have me all to yourself…”

 

[darrenfate]

Parker

Parker fell asleep in the dark lightly, the smells and sounds of Evangeline still echoing in his mind. He had been used as surely as Evangeline had been. A quiet anger welled up in Parker. It would not happen again.

He heard the subtle metallic sound of his door being locked. The unspoken rapprochement with the erstwhile General Jorja shattered instantly. Parker leaped from bed, all senses instantly alert. Padding to his door, a single tug confirmed what his ears already knew. He was locked in. The prize canary in a gilded cage. Still a cage. Just like a prison.

Silently, he walked to the window. It overlooked the cliffs, with the crashing sea 200 meters below. No means of escape there. Parker then took to his knapsack, and produced a thin blade of forged steel. It would have to do as his only lock pick tool. He dared not turn on the light, Evangeline had warned him the walls had eyes. He began to work.

After tedious hours, he felt it click then give. Patience had won out, the door swung open. He was free. Carefully he closed it. Hopefully they would not realize he was gone until it was too late. He heard voices one strange, one that must be Jorja's. He walked away from the light.

Time to go.

He heard footsteps in the hall and darted down a winding stone staircase. In the dark he heard a moaning. Following the sound he saw a cell. Lying in a stupor in the middle the floor. A moonlit ray of light exposed an emaciated body. Parker gasped. My God.

Rainsford !

 

[Mistress Jorja]

General Jorja Zaroff

Jorja turned her head, eyes glowing like the carved serpent wrapped around the bedpost. Tentative footsteps belonging to none of her submissives padded along the corridor. She could smell Parker through the walls.

Jerking her attention back to Shawn, whose swift movement caught the corner of the her eye, she pinned his shackled wrist down with the tip of her knife.

“Now, now, not so fast, darlin’…” she murmured, sliding down his body and rumpling the sheets as she went. Dismounting smoothly, the General tucked the loaded pistol comfortably against her lower back. Leaving Evangeline with a stern glance, Jorja locked the door firmly behind her.

Following the resonating presence of Parker, Jorja went to the window. Peering out at the distant beacons glimmering in the tar, her fingers found the panel beneath. Game’s on she thought as she turned off the main breaker to the house, lets see how…civilized…we can be without electricity.

The lights blinked out as the chateau was submerged in shadows of its own creation. Crouching, knife bared and ready, Jorja crept along in her hunter’s stance. Moving with uncanny deftness, she found the stairs and descended slowly, keeping her back to the wall.

Breathing shallow and quick through an open mouth, she shifted the dagger from hand to hand in eager, loose anticipation.

 

[darrenfate]

Parker

Rainsford's death rattle shocked Parker. He watched his friend breathe his last. It was almost as if Rainsford had held on to his life until he could see his best friend one last time. Then suddenly - he was gone.

Irrational anger flooded Parker rendering his left brained thinking inoperable. In a mad rush Parker flew down the darkened corridor and up the stairs. He kicked open Zaroff's door in a blind rage. He felt rather than saw a fleeting female form dart away from him. Unthinking still he pounced.

In the stygian gloom his hands encircled her thin neck. Zaroff must be made to pay for Rainsford's death. With a savage twist he wrenched her neck hearing the horrible snapping sound that would haunt him forever. She sank to the floor, lifeless.

Dragging the corpse to the window Parker craved to see Zaroff's sightless eyes to complete his revenge. The moon shown then lighting the face.

He gazed down to see .......Evangeline !

With a gasp of horror Parker dropped her. The enormity of his error overwhelmed him. Just then he heard souless laughter from the doorway. Mocking him. Taunting him.

General Jorja Zaroff !!

 

[Mistress Jorja]

General Jorja Zaroff

Slipping from the shadows, a dusk-draped Fata Morgana, Jorja caught Parker’s eye, clicking her nails together as a sign of approval. Applauding with a quiet appreciation, she glanced down at the glimmering form lying on the floor, the admiration of his brutality reflecting shiftily in her eyes.

“I would have done it myself years ago, the little girl really couldn’t be trusted. Would have escaped first chance she got.”

Thrusting her lean arms out behind her, she leapt deftly onto the windowsill, the cold stone pressing against her skin like the sharp edges of sobriety.

“Humans can be quite backwards in their ways…louche creatures, even the sickeningly pious ones. We devote ourselves to the attainment of material objects. One should never become so attached that it blinds them from competence in completing the necessary tasks at hand.”

Jorja flicked the flowing hem off her trigger hand. Crossing her legs she noted the unfashionable bearing of only one garter and lithely remedied the problem.

“But I digress. It’s a completely ecclesial notion that one must having feelings for their…for lack of a colder word…pets. You have done me a great service sir, and may I be so bold as to presume that starved look in your eyes is of one searching for a reward?”

 

[darrenfate]

Parker

Parker was still reeling when General Zaroff began her ghastly applause. Her voice was eerie cutting through to his soul. The hair on the back of his head to rise. At the same time he began to get aroused. He cursed his involuntary fallability. Jorja saw his erection and laughed in his face. Had he been an unwitting pawn to this evil woman?

A red haze of rage decended upon him again the same one that had propelled him to kill poor Evangeline. Like a mad bull he rushed at her but she was way too quick for him. Turning he dashed at her again seeking to tackle her. This time like a practiced matador she dodged sideways then kicked his face with her hard boot as he passed. One more time he gathered himself and charged. This time he was not so lucky. He saw the flash of the blade and only just managed to turn his face aside to spare his neck. His cheek was not so lucky.

He stood there bleeding, chest heaving - still hard - and utterly defeated. She stood there smirking at him, turning the blade over and over in her practiced hands. Who was he kidding? Zaroff was too fast for him a huntress in her element. He was a writer for Gods sake.

You ruthless bitch. Why Rainsford? Why? I never thought that I would come face to face with the devil. But I have. You shall meet your just end.

Parker had wanted to continue that her death would not be by his hand. But that would be to openly admit his defeat. That Parker would never do.

 

[Babe In Jello]

General Jorja Zaroff

“Why? Why? Why?” Jorja pondered the question. “What does it matter why? Can’t you just accept what is?”

She admired the work that her knife had done to his cheek. The slashing wound made him seem less a gentleman and more the incorrigible rouge she ached for. Shaking her head slightly at his stubborn expression, she sighed. Her eyes drifted out of focus, fixed somewhere over her right shoulder.

“It’s obvious to me that your – as the Germans put it best – weltanschauung mirrors that of a scientist. You must know everything, have a reason for everything. Instead of taking the here and now, you grasp for the what if? It’s not a bad character trait…just one that can get you killed. Asking too many questions infuriates some. And living in fantasy rather than reality is for those too weak to make a fantasy out of reality.”

Jorja tossed the knife from hand to hand, considering Parker's tensed posture. He barely looked like he was paying attention to anything she was saying. Curled & needing to strike out at someone or something, his eyes glimmered with a hint of the maniacal rage that flooded her own.

“But I will tell you, because in spite of all the name calling you aim in my direction, there’s something about you that I like. He refused the hunt; he refused to play my games. He thought he was in control; he wanted to play by his own rules. He was the beta in my pack, and he lost the fight for dominance. It’s that simple.

“You distract me still. A reward is offered and yet you ignore it. Are common social dignities no longer adhered to in your barbaric culture?”