Andre pulled the black robe from around the young woman's shoulders, exposing her nakedness in the moonlight.

His men gasped, and then fell silent in the presence of her beauty, thinking how she resembled the statues of the ancient ruins down the road, so white and cold and perfect. But that silky blonde hair cascading down and the way her eyes quivered was proof, too, that she was bound to this mortal plane.

Her hands and feet bound, she stood with a dignity that made some of the men shift nervously and cast their eyes downward. Their leader, the one who now clutched the young woman's silk robe in his fist, was not impressed by the proud way she stood. He had tried all means of getting her to talk, back in the city. He had locked her away, starved her, everything short of physically marring her beauty. He just couldn't have done that, his people would have cried outrage.

But they weren't in the city now. He had brought her to this desolate place at the end of the earth so that he could finally extract the secret from her with only the snakes and scorpions as witnesses, and then let the desert sands swallow up the evidence of his deed.

They had traveled long and hard to reach this place, six men racing across the moonlit desert as if demons pursued them, leaving the civilized world and Section far behind, and coming to a halt at a place on an ancient shore where ragged cliffs stood against the star-splashed sky - a barren, forsaken spot inhabited only by ghosts and spirits.

The men had read of this place - a deep well, according to legend, had once sustained their nomadic ancestors of this land during the countless droughts in the wilderness. The men first tied the specially prepared basket to a rope and gently lowered it down while one of them murmured a silent prayer. When the basket reached the bottom of the well, the men had turned to the woman and brought her to the edge of the well to stand before Andre.

"Tell me," he said now in a low voice, as he drew knife from it's sheath throwing reflected moonlight into Nikita's eyes, "where have they taken the challis? Where is Section One?"

She still did not speak. But when her exhausted aquamarine eyes met his, he saw in them a glint of challenge.

Like her, he trembled, not from the cold but from a barely contained fury. He was the true leader of the Magi. But with the theft of the Challis and all it held, he knew his days of power were coming to an end. With its secret he knew he could challenge those who revolted from their god given path, and seize immortality for himself and those of his choosing. This woman possessed the information he needed to achieve to his goals.

The desert silence stretched on until finally he said, "So be it." He gestured to the men.

They turned to the young woman, laying coarse, rough hands on her white, flawless skin, greed and lust illuminating their faces as they threaded a rope under her arms and breasts, to lower her a gently as possible into the well.

"I do not want you to be too injured and therefore die quickly," Andre said to her. "I want you to know this dark prison for a long time. You will memorize every stone, every texture, and every shade of darkness. When the sun rises above and beats down on you, you will back alive, and at night the freezing wind will make your bones contract and snap. You will know a thirst that is beyond human comprehension, you will experience a loneliness that is emptier and more terrifying than the aloneness of death. You will call out for your precious Michael to save you, but no one will hear, only the vultures as they wait to pick the flesh from your bones." He stepped closer to her grasping her willowy hair in his hand, the hand that had struck fear and inspired awe in his followers for years which now had little effect thanks to the efforts of Nikita and her team from Section One.

"One last time," he said softly letting his breath cascade over her face. "Where is the Challis? If you tell me that I will release you. You will be free. "

She didn't speak.

"Then tell me only this: will they come and find you? Or are you just an object, a means to an end?"

And she spoke, for the first time since the race across the barren wasteland. It came out as a sigh: "No. I am lost to them now"

"Ah not only are you lost to them, but my pleasure is to know that you will be lost to him forever. You heart will ache knowing he will search the world for you. His heart will break, as it should upon losing such a treasure. Know this now, he will hurt because of you and your silence. You alone will cause him more pain then all that has come before."

His companions picked her up and lowered her into the well, inch by inch, the rough stones scraping her tender back, and as the darkness swallowed up her freshness and beauty, Andre kicked the stone rim of the ancient well and maniacal laughter came forth. "Let no man find you. Let none miss you. Ashes to ashes and hence dust to dust."

From the darkness as small voice utters the name of the one person who cared, the one person who could save her. "Michael"

************

A lone rider appeared on the shore, stopping a distance from the encampment so not to be heard. He jumped down and, running swiftly and silently, with a single knife slit the throats of the sleeping men whom were set to guard and listen to Nikita's suffering, one by one, so that they never cried an alarm. Then he went into the tent of Andre, and searched for her. "Nikita" But she was not there. He straddled him and held the knife to his throat with his eyes promising death. When he awoke, his eyes were full of sudden comprehension and resignation. He said, "You will never find her and you will never save her. She is lost to you. For if I can't have the sacred Challis, she will not be found."

In his anguish, Michael slit Andre's throat and watched the blood run crimson on his satin pillow.

Then he left he camp to look for his hearts desire. He searched along the shore, and the deep, dry crevices that came out of the jagged escarpments; he even threw back his head and looked up at the stars, searching for her presence there.

A chilling sound filled the night.

Stumbling through the darkness, he found the ancient well. He listened. He called down to her. He heard a whimper. Running to camp, he found a rope. He returned to the well, secured the rope around a boulder, and lowered himself down.

Then he felt in the darkness for Nikita. She was there and his mind cried out.

The he felt at her breast that there was a fluttering of a heartbeat so faint it would not be detected if the wind blew. She was still warm, and only moments ago she had whimpered his name.

"I'm here. Hang on. Don't you leave me now!" He felt her life slip away from him. His stretched to gain a stronger grip on her.

He bellowed his outrage, the cry echoing up the stone shaft and out into the blackened sky. Tears fell unbeknownst to him. He climbed back out of the well and activated his emergency beacon. They would be there soon to collect their emissaries. It might be too late. Bracing himself, he reached up and severed the rope with his knife, the rope dangling overhead beyond his reach. He fell into the darkness next to his sunlight. Draping his arm over her body, he wrapped his arms around her. His tears dampening her hair.

"You will not die." He whispered "They will come soon" Michael hoped that the tracking device would emit the necessary beams that could be received by the Section. It was a slim chance out in the wilderness reception would have to be a divine gift. He had to believe they would come. For if they did not, he would die here as well. For he would not leave Nikita, she was his life. Even in the darkness of death she illuminated his soul.

Thoughts drifted back to the beginning of this mission. Oh how things had taken a turn for the worse. Casualties abounded. Operatives had come upon their most fierce adversary. Michael only gave these cursory thoughts. Pictured in his mind was the tortured screams and broken body of his beloved. What could have gone wrong?

************

One Week Earlier

Dread filled her as well walked forth into the lioness' den. The auburn hair hung like waves crashing against some far away shore. Controlled presence yet underneath a force to be reckoned. The tawny eyes measuring movement like she was stalking prey. Unlike the queen of the cats prowling throughout the earth, this queen's prey was more often her own young. She nurtured them through their rebirth stroking their egos and hair as if protecting them from the evil that lurked so close. Deception in her gait lulling unsuspecting operatives into a safe haven only to feed them to the Lions of the world.

A solid and fraudulent voice came out of the one so intimidating. "Nikita, I will be doing your briefing for your first mission as team leader. You have worked under the best for so long, and that has given us the assurance that you can handle this upcoming situation. Now it is time to see if you can fly alone."

Shock radiated from Nikita's frame. She stood so stoically that a casual observer would have not picked up upon the upheaval residing under the surface. But nothing got passed the critical eye of Section's Queen.

This one is learning to not be so transparent. How wrong they were to believe she would be dissuaded from her scrutiny. The challenges were what she adored. Lucidity of the soul was like hunting fish in a bucket, far too easy a game.

"What is the profile, Madeline?" Her stomach dropping an inch every time she queried her leader's eyes. Her intuition told her this mission was to be far from simple. Failure was their expectation. Success would be her revenge.

"We have been monitoring a religious sect, The Magi, that is located outside of Cairo. Their actions haven't concerned us until recently. Their leader, Andre has recently stepped up his recruitment and indoctrination in preparation for the upcoming Millennium. In the past, they have simply moved on when recruits rejected their beliefs. That is until Andre decided to escalate their processes. The basic doctrine of the Magi is as such. They believe the upper echelons of their ruling body are the direct descendants of the "Magi" the godly appointed priests of the Hebrew Exodus from the tyranny of the Egyptian Pharaoh. They have only one artifact that is of any importance to them. This is the key to their downfall. This group possesses the Golden Challis of Moses. It is rumored that it was etched from the hand of God on Mount Sinai during the 40 years of wandering. The inscriptions found on this cup are supposed to hold the secrets of immortality. To achieve this, the Magi must convert or kill scores of followers. The more death and the more subjects they have the greater their life as an eternal being will be."

Madeline uncrossed her long legs and moved to stand behind Nikita. Running her willowy fingers through her silky mass, she breathed a sigh and continued in a hush voice.

"Their tactics have gotten out of control. The dead have been piling up. We have been requested to diffuse the situation. Their numbers are great. We in turn must approach this scenario with caution. We do not want to create Martyrs. The problem would then increase 10 fold. Remember we are dealing with religious zealots not terrorists for hire. How would you approach this situation?"

Ah the test. Always the test. "Take away the item that holds their power. Without it, their masses would dissipate quickly. There would be no cohesion." A smile slowly spread on Nikita's face. The queen hadn't suspected that she would actually come up with the resolution so quickly. "Take away the Challis."

Impressive Nikita, impressive.

"Get together with Birkhoff for intel. I would recommend researching this sect thoroughly. They could throw in a few surprises."

She had been summarily dismissed. While walking out the door, Nikita halted. "What about the team. Who do I have access to?"

"Only new recruits" was the response. The queen had no intention of making this easy.

The electronic door silently shut behind the retreating operative. The den was returned to the lioness once again. She would start anew with another prey. She wistfully hoped this one would be just as challenging.

************

Death surrounds the village. Blood flowing across the parched and caked soil, filling crevice after crevice melding with other pools. Crimson sand radiating a sickening smell as the sun arches across the celestial sky. A toddler wanders through the carnage as his pant cuffs soaking up life's liquid as a sponge does water. Bleak eyes peer out of his little head. Insanity has already found this one. Reason has left. Shock has incapacitated his young brain. He moves forward aimlessly sidestepping bodies in his wake. He numblessly searches for his father. Off in the distance a towering figure approaches.

"Anton, see what we must do. It is the great lord who we fight for. We are his soldiers. This blood is our offering. If they do not believe, we must release them from this earthly life. Think not little one of their pain. They have gone to God with our help." He leans down and cradles the child in his arms.

"But papa, why? They were my friends. You hurt mama. Why did you hurt mama?" He absently spoke focusing his gaze on the death toll.

Andre runs his hand slowly in front of his son's face. Nothing registers. His breath rushes in. He is lost him as well. Oh the sacrifices that he has made. Hot tears slide down his face as he leads his own child to God. The red fluid stains his hands as he collapses to the ground crying into his palms. An animalistic sound echoes throughout the devastated village as he mourns the loss of his beloved wife and child. The empty consolation resonates in his mind. They are where they are destined to be. God will protect them now. Little does that alter the pain and anguish he feels in his heart.

He shakes with the memories of the dreams that have visited him when the sun goes down. An aide is to be sent. She will help his cause. She will help him through this torment. She who is so used to death, yet whose soul still remains.

He will await her arrival tomorrow. Tonight is the time to mourn all he had lost at his own hand.

************

In panic, Nikita jerked awake. A light sheen of sweat covered her exposed flesh and dampened her bedclothes. Making sure to keep her eyes open, she extended her shaky hand to the lamp. Light flooded every corner of her bedroom, but it could not permeate the icy chill she still felt in her soul. She kept replaying the pictures in her mind. The bodies, the blood, the innocent children. What she couldn't shake was the eyes, his eyes. They haunted her every step, she had not seen that type of insane intensity in her entire life. Sleep would continue to elude her this night.

Glancing at the alarm clock, she muttered to herself. There was still planning to do. Since she couldn't sleep with the dreams, she might as well try dealing with them fully awake.

2:07am. "Hours to go before I sleep" how appropriate she muttered. It was going to be a long day.

The hot spray of the shower finally banished the chill if only temporarily. She allowed the pellets of water to tease her flesh, beating the blood to flow under her skin. Stretching her neck from side to side she shook away the silken threads of remembrance still remaining from her dream. Her thoughts drifted from the mission in front of her to the memories that always flashed back when she let herself succumb.

His hands on her flesh, rubbing the aches generated from her capture. The sway of the boat lulling them into each other's arms. Water trickling down her back as he lapped it up with his tongue. Hands encircling her stomach as she was pulled back against the wall of the shower so that she could feel his need.

Nikita's skin was slowly effusing with color. It had nothing to do with this shower, but the hot memory of one long ago. She groaned as a roughened cloth was moved over her chest. Her breasts ached for his touch. Her body ached for his hard presence. Her head fell back and smacked against the white tile wall startling her out of this reminiscence.

** Don't you have control? First you lose it in a dream. Now you want to live in another one ** Nikita finished her shower hastily. She dried off quickly as to not catch a chill. After putting her hair in a towel and her body into her favorite leggings and sweatshirt, Nikita started downstairs to continue with the task ahead.

6:58 am. 2 pots of coffee later, our statuesque blonde was studying the profile laid out in front of her. She would go in as a new convert. Angie would enter into the fold as well. Roger and Clay would backup her up. She would demand Birkhoff. She needed to be sure that the communications would be functional. She wished she could have Michael. They were a team. Two parts to one whole. She knew his every move and thought on a mission, and he knew hers. She was going in bare and a part of her was missing.

She knew that Madeline wanted her to admit she needed him. She wouldn't give the auburn trussed devil the satisfaction. He had taught her well. She would succeed.

A knock pulled her out of her thoughts. She made her way to the door knowing who it was. Her body was still acutely aware from her shower. Her nerves sensed his presence. As she cracked the door, the smell of Starbucks wafted into the room. Greedily, she grabbed the nearest cup and swallowed. With foam residing on her lip, she took in Michael. He was enough to take her breath away. He raised her hand and slowly wiped her top lip with her own forefinger. She watched mesmerized as he moved the finger into his mouth. The warmth, the heat. She shivered as the cool morning air enveloped her moist skin upon it's retreat.

The corners of Michael's mouth turned up slightly and his eyes reflected amusement. This however was not what he came here for. He knew about the mission. He knew he wasn't going along. He wanted to help her succeed in anyway he could even if it meant helping only in the planning stages.

"Morning. What have you come up with so far?"

If Nikita didn't know his motives, she might have been upset. But she did and she was silently touched. She walked him into the apartment, shut the door and began briefing him on the tactical.

************

A solitary figure stood aside from the group. He watched those in attendance with a keen eye searching for her. He knew not what shape, size or coloration she would be. He just knew she was here. He moved around the crowd taking in faces. Stopping every so often to glance at one that struck his attention. He searched for her. He could feel the dull heat that was emanating from her like a blind moth is drawn to a flame, never certain if he was close until he got burned.

Among the crowd, Nikita registered all that was occurring. Quietly she became a mockingbird repeating information to be captured on sensitive listening equipment. In mid-communication, a slight movement drew her attention. Jet black hair on a Grecian face, chiseled features accentuated his bearing. She turned trying to get a better look at the man she thought was Andre. She would be certain if she could glimpses his eyes. The look and tortured mind had stayed with her since she first saw the mission profile.

She withdrew in the crowd slowly unaware that another had noticed her movement. He moved behind her slowing her retreat. None were allowed to leave. Once they entered they either chose the way of the Lord or was shown there by force. Her black silk robe identified her as a new convert. As an owl would regard the mouse, their actions were to be watched at all times.

A hand touched her gently urging her to glance their way. Aquamarine melded with Violet, sensations roared through both. Struck dumbfounded for separate reasons, Nikita and Andre froze.

I found her. She is perfect. Such sweetness and beauty how could this not be her.

He came right to me. Now I won't have to attract his attention. Does he have the Challis?

The spinning of the world on its axis slowed. Sound was muffled. They watched each other with avid curiosity taking in each nuance, searching for the information they seek.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Her days followed the same routine. Listen, study, learn and discuss. Academia was the focus, or at least studying their doctrine was all they ever did. Andre never left her side. He arranged for accommodations in proximity to his. He watched and studied her. He let her into his inner sanctum.

Floating through the hall with the hem of her robe rustling the stones on the floor, Nikita made her way to Andre's side. He wanted to show her their "Training" grounds. Her face barely registered the shock she felt, before her was his army. Training in hand to hand combat and various armaments.

"Come my dear, let me show you the way to which you are destined." Andre seemed to sense her adeptness at the warrior skill. That skill held his belief that she was his Angel. She would need to be to live the life the fates had set for them.

His intentions had been clear. She knew what he thought her to be. The divine aide sent to assist him with obtaining eternal life. She was to be the sword, he the voice it sung. Together they would be the means to an the end. She stepped into the role knowing it was the only way to remain by his side. In the flurry of activity, this closeness would let her achieve her mission.

Andre's focus had shifted to a corner of the arena. He led Nikita by the hand to watch the games begin. The bile rose into her throat as she witnessed her worst fear. Two of her team had been caught. Not caught as Section Operatives and the enemy. Captured as unwilling participants in the Magi indoctrination.

Face drained of all blood while she watched Roger and Angie. Andre toyed with them. Batting them around, cutting their flesh until they both passed out. With his roughened hand, he sacrificed their lives to his blood thirsty God. As their necks were slashed and their blood spurted forth, Nikita forced herself to remain passive. She tore at the black robe and her consciousness. Fingers clenching and knuckles whitened. She wanted to stop this carnage. Warring with the feelings of protection, Nikita stood her ground. She looked forward to the day she could avenge those put into her trust.

She must escalate this mission, she would not lose another operative to this type of treatment. How? When?

Tonight…….Seduction

************

The candle flickered sending it's warm light across the opulent room. The sheer silk tapestries shimmered in tune with the light breeze. Nikita walked forth with sure steps entering Andre's domain. Surprise was her added advantage. He wanted her, but had not made any overtures. Transplendant in her choice of wardrobe, she had removed her normal black robe and donned the white threads of the chosen. Her ethereal beauty accentuated by the white webbing of her hair. Those who knew her knew the look on her face. She was stepping forth into battle, not the scene of seduction that lay in front of her.

Andre's breath held. Stunning she was to look at. Shocked he was to see her. Forbidden she was to him right now.

"My dear the pleasure is all mine, but I must ask what you are doing coming to a man's chambers so late into the night. You must know how moral reprehensible that act is." He chided her as he took in her appearance. Lying on her shoulders as if it had always been there was the cloak of the chosen. Swirling around her frame was the white glow of innocence. He was surer than ever before of his correctness is selecting her.

"I apologize teacher, I felt inexplicably drawn to you. I could not stand by and not heed the hand of God. He wanted me here. Surely this means were are to be together?" Bile was working up her throat. Such vile words and pictures these were. The thought of his hands on her and his breath mingling with her own, made her itch as though ants were walking across her skin. Reprehensible acts, but necessary to avenge the death of those she who were her responsibility.

Andre ushered her deeper into his domain. He seated her in front of a low table and rang for a light supper to be brought forth. She teased him with her luscious eyes, she toyed with her food putting him on the verge of losing his scruples. An internal war waged in his consciousness. He knew she was given to him, but the mourning period was not over. He could not go against the sacred rites. Oh but how he wanted to feel her under him, to touch her skin and make her his.

Patience…it will all come with time. In this instance, that virtue was hard to have.

Frustration seethed under Nikita's surface. She had once thought it was hard to entice her beloved Michael. That was nothing compared to this. She knew his attraction, the depth of his feelings for her. If it was any other, she knew she would have won this battle a long time ago. Ah but he was not another man, even in his maniacal zealousness his morals were his guides he would never veer off his course.

Her plans changed in that instance. Taking a vial from her bodice she pour a drop of it's liquid onto a piece of passion fruit. With her delicate hand she held it up for Andre to taken. Even in his scruples his mouth descended to take the succulent flesh into his mouth, he could not stop himself from this one act. Slowly he chewed the fruit amazed at its sweet and sticky texture. His eyes started to glaze and sleep overcame him immediately.

Nikita helped him to recline on the floor pillows while searching for the key. It was threaded into the seam of his gown. She gazed at the heavy cabinet in the corner. The only furniture of any weight in the room, all other items resembled the clouds in the heavens. She knew it held the Challis. In secret, Andre had allowed her a glimpse at the wonderful goblet. He felt it was her due as his future ruling partner.

Fitting the key into the lock, Nikita switched into machine mode. She carefully removed the golden Challis and placed it in its velvet bag. Stealthily she left this room of delicate taste and moved toward her meeting place located deep in the compound.

Placing the treasure into the hands of her last remaining team member, Nikita watched as she moved into the shadows. "Birkhoff, package has been delivered."

"Ahead of schedule Nikita. Proceed with extraction. We will pick you and the rest up at the rendezvous point in 6 hours."

Nikita shook as the visions overcame her sight. She knew he wouldn't know about Angie and Roger, he was out of Satellite range when it happened. "We've had casualties. I am the only one returning."

Birkhoff was quiet. Oh God, Section was not going to like this. "I'll inform Operations. Out"

She made her way back to her living quarters. She had to pick up the rest of her gear, then she would start her trek across the desert. She had to hurry the drug she gave Andre would only last a couple more hours. She had to use this time to distance herself from the upcoming volatile situation.

Those hours would have been useful, if Andre's private guard hadn't come upon him first. Nikita was taken from behind while moving down the last hall toward freedom. Darkness enveloped her as she heard them demand to know where the Challis was.

************

Pain ripped through Nikita's body as consciousness was regained. Her muscles were sore and she couldn't move. Opening her eyes she assessed her situation. Firmly secured to a wooden table in spread eagle fashion. Her throat was parched and her lips chapped.

This was the third time she had been awoken by this method. She saw the IV dripping into her arm. Each drop containing the fire that was spreading through her body. Fire that was meant to drive her insane but had only caused infuriation in her captors. She took the pain until she blacked out. They understood now the mettle of individual they were dealing with.

Andre had called in some favors with his brother. He always prayed for the soul of his brother and his terroristic ways, but it was him who shed light on this aborhent situation. He had heard of this one before. Courage, honor and a sick sense of loyalty radiated from his guest. That could only mean on thing, Section One. They had left him alone in the past, but his success with recruitment must have caught their attention.

"Ah I see we are awake" Nikita looked up into the fiery amethysts. She no longer saw sweet and attentive devotion. Now they beamed with the true righteous indignation of a wronged prophet.

She refused to speak. Silence was her only weapon.

"Shall I call for Michael?" Andre laughed at the flash in her eyes. "Yes dear, you talk in your sleep. At first I was willing to overlook this infatuation with another. For it was before you met me. Now I wouldn't have you if God commanded it from the heavens." He looked above and murmured a hastily spoken prayer that he would not be called to do such a task. "Does he love you? Know he will never come for you. He will never have you again."

Nikita slid her eyes closed. She welcomed the darkness knowing she had a long road ahead.

"There is a way to be with him Nikita. Where did they take the Challis? I have searched the compound as much as I can without alerting more of my flock. Where is it?"

Silence once again filled the room and Andre's fury doubled. He needed the icon, it was his hold on his people and this one was his key. Nikita's body shook as the fire slowly spread in her veins. She couldn't speak, her lungs burned. She welcomed the oblivion that beckoned her.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The rendezvous point was desolate. Not a soul moved. Birkhoff feared the worst. He knew that she must have been delay. Orders were to return. Nikita was to find her own way. His gut told him, she might need help.

Hastily he linked his computer into the Satellite net. A moment later a familiar face appeared on the screen."

"Michael…"

************

The Present

Michael's arms tightened around Nikita. His warmth suffused her bring her to the edge of death. Just teetering back and forth. He covered her naked body with his own. He vowed to protect her from the harsh elements. He couldn't lose her now.

Nikita as if sensing his presence with her subconscious, welcomed him. She dropped her guard and let her body be protected by him. Those acts alone felled Michael. Even with their past mistakes, she came to him and trusted him to the point of her death.

His tears fell against her face, washing way streaks of dust revealing the dark circles under her eyes. He carefully inspected her body. No bruises, no abrasions generated prior to her journey to the bottom of this forsaken and forgotten well. What was effecting her? He had seen her in worse condition and yet she survived. The light of the moon reveled the answer, needle marks. He shuddered while trying to comprehend the drugs she must have been given. Could he pull her back? Would they arrive in time?

He knew she had held true to this mission. For is she had not, she would not have been left to wither away to dust is such a demented grave. He looked up at the skylight to the surface. They were so close to the stars, but so far from the world.

Oblivion swallowed Michael as well. Nikita and Michael held each other in their dreams, and for the first time dreams become reality. Neither felt the arms that lifted them back in Section One's world. Neither would release the other even in unconsciousness.

"Madeline, we found them…They will make it back, but it's close"

The Lioness shut off the speaker in her office. She paced behind her desk showing an uncharacteristic nervousness. It was her intention to challenge her newest prey. Challenge, but not kill. This one had come too close. She had succeeded, but at a cost. They had a stronger connection now.

She shook her head and went in search of her own Lion. He mind racing with the future tests that she had lain in store. She hoped she received as much enjoyment with them as she had with this one.

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