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Going back downstairs Alex poured himself a hot cup of coffee "babies fed, Mama asleep" he told Mar Marti'en, Mar chuckled "looks like you need to be in bed yourself, that's where the rest have headed off too, Trink muttering all the way about needing two bows in his beard." Alex nodded "I will head to bed soon, I think that back room should be cleaned up first, then I'm going to go take a hot bath and get my wits back together." Mar grinned "you can count your wits gone for the next twenty or so years, Bitsy all ready took care of the back room for you, go take your bath boy you've earned it. If you need anything just let us know." Alex chuckled "are you ever going to stop calling me boy?" Mar snorted "maybe in forty or fifty years" Alex laughed as he headed for the bathing room.Laurel woke up to a little screech, looking over the side of the bed she saw Miranda her tiny wings fluttering furiously, her talons slicing through the covers as she tried to get up on the bed, reaching down. " came an eerily familiar voice from his blind side. Jack froze as his recollection fired through the relaxed stupor of his mind. Turning to face the direction of the voice, there was a tall, masked woman standing next to him. A man of equal height, stood next to her, handsome with streaks of distinguished grey hair pressed against the tied ribbons of his mask. One kiss on one cheek and then the other left him somewhat cold; Jack was grateful that his mask concealed his look of muted dread. It was Anita, dressed in a tight fitting black dress that pressed against her womanly curves. Somewhat helpless, Jack saw the substantial diamond pendant held around her neck suspended by a thick jewelled choker. Her décolletage revealed her generous breasts pressed firmly together as Jack squeezed a brave smile onto his face. Yet, Jack knew he was captivated again by her presence; her assertiveness was a very powerful aphrodisiac. Lars' warm smile was pleasant enough; his was a happy smile, an.
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Fear made her shrink and, afraid that she would disappear, Edward wrapped a paternal arm around her and guided her from the room to the front door where her father was waiting. With venom in his voice, he reproached the man, threatening him with untold acts of violence should any harm come to his daughter, before bolting from the scene. As he slammed the door shut behind him, he became aware of the familiar sensation of his body as it cried for blood, that steady, deadly pulse in the base of his throat that screamed for atrocity. His hands shook as he forced himself into a state of composure, desperate to shake the trappings of the past from his skin. Placing his head in his hands, he massaged his temples, waited for the calm to overtake him. He did not see her enter, rather it seemed that she appeared before him like a spirit. He watched her wordlessly as she moved towards him, marvelling at how the cut of her dress moved as she walked, betraying the sinews of her skin that lay.

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