An unknown chapter lies ahead...

-Selene

***

The dull screech of the dying helicopter made Michael want to clap his hands over his ears, but he was too focused on the woman still perched atop the broken bridge; her eyes glowed fiercely, more frosty white than blue. A thump brought his attention back down to the ground, where Marcus’s head had landed just inches from William's. The Elder had worked so hard to be reunited with his brother. Well, now he was. Not caring for propriety or respect for the dead, Michael growled and kicked it farther away. The other hybrid had hurt Selene.

Selene.

She was still standing on top of the bridge, not moving, just breathing quiet, shallow breaths. Michael could smell her blood seeping through her ruined corset. Too concerned for her to question whether he even could, he quickly changed back into his human form and ran to find the steps that led to the bridge. He could have jumped it, gotten to her faster that way, but he feared what might happen were it to collapse with her on it.

By the time he was at the top of the stairs and could see her, Michael realized two things, and he stopped running. For one thing, she had already stopped bleeding. This was surprising, even after seeing her sunburns heal so quickly only a day before. Marcus had skewered her effortlessly with his razor-sharp wings. By all laws, she should have been dead. Her spine seemed undamaged. What about her organs? Her heart he could hear beating furiously but steadily; he could even vaguely see her pulse running its race through the veins of her neck. Her lungs expanded and shrank as breathed, hyperventilation returning to calm. She was fine. It was unbelievable. But the other realization was even more of a profound shock. Selene was standing beside a ray of sunlight, her back to him, her hand floating in the glow, and she was not burning, her skin not even turning red with irritation.

Michael stared, not believing that the winter morning light was not harming her fragile, translucent skin. But his confusion was replaced by much more solid wonder when she half-turned, exposing her face to the radiance as well.

And still, she did not burn.

Michael’s breath caught in his chest. She had tears building in her eyes. And even more, she looked even more stunning in the sunlight than she did in the moonlight. He couldn’t help but smile.

***

He walked towards her.

Selene’s breath came raggedly from her, heartbreaking fear mixed with the overwhelming joy that threatened to consume her instead of the harmless ultraviolet light streaming around her.

Joy that she was standing in the sunlight, that he was walking toward her.

Fear that it was all too good to be true, that she was moving in slow motion, and that at any moment, she would feel the familiar horrific pain that sunlight had always meant before, and that he would disappear, only an apparition in her mind to soothe her in her last moments.

But he still walked forward. Her skin felt nothing but warmth. The world around her seemed to stop breathing, as if waiting for a sign to either rejoice or crumble on her signal.

He was close enough now to touch, but she did not dare make contact. He stepped into the pool of sunlight that bathed her, his green eyes a shade she’d not seen before, that she might never have seen in any other light than this. Selene stood there, petrified that if she reached out, he would vanish, or fall to the ground, dead as when she had last seen him.

The dam finally broke. The tears that had been welling up now overflowed, and ran down her face. She stared at him with blurred vision, body unmoving and mind numb, pleading with him to touch her, to confirm that he was really there, alive and standing in front of her. He did so, gently touching the sides of her face and deeply kissing her. His fingers were cool and his mouth was warm. This was real. Relieved and shaking, she kissed him wholeheartedly back, her body losing all its tension as his arms moved down to clasp her waist.

He pulled away after a few moments, although his hands didn't leave her sides. “What happened?” He asked, his voice quavering.

“I don’t…” Selene started, but she had to start over again. “I thought he killed you. Marcus killed you. I thought you were dead.”

Michael pulled her back into another embrace, this time burying his face into her hair. “No,” he murmured into her ear. “I could hear everything, feel everything; I just...I couldn’t move. But I wasn’t gone. I promise.” She pressed her fingers into his shoulders, her arms feeling weak. “I didn't go anywhere,” he whispered.

Selene shut her eyes tightly, relief coursing through her like the blood in her veins. A few more tears fell off her face onto his shoulder. “You weren’t moving; you weren’t breathing…I couldn’t…” But she was unable finish the sentence.

He pulled away from her, just far enough to look at her expression. “Selene...”

She shut her eyes, frightened of the honest emotion in his. “You're alive. That's all that matters.”

“That’s not all that matters,” he insisted, shaking his head. “What about this?” He took her hand, and placed it in the morning illumination.

She stared, as if mesmerized, at the picture their joined hands made in the glow. Then she looked back up him.

“I think...I'm not sure,” she confessed. “Corvinus had me feed from him. He said there was no other way; he was dying. Marcus had attacked him.” She shook her head. “I asked him what would happen to me, but he...I honestly think he just didn’t know what could happen. But it worked. It gave me the strength I needed to do what had to be done. And it must be what gave me this.” She intertwined her fingers with his in the light.

“Do you feel different?” Michael asked, sounding concerned. If she could have smiled, she would have done it then, as his medical training kicked back in. “Do you feel sick or dizzy or...”

“I’m…fine,” she said, “I just feel... different, but not bad. Are you alright?”

“Tired.” His reply came out somewhere between a murmur and a chuckle. “I'm really tired. But I think I’m okay.”

She ran her hand down his chest, leaving it to rest where the horrific wound had been only hours before, where there was now clean, undamaged flesh over whole muscle. “Yes, you are.”

He smiled softly at her and pulled her into a tight hug. Selene shut her eyes, resting her head on his shoulder.

She was in Michael’s arms, under the shining sun. At that moment, there was nothing else, only skin and the sound of gently pumping blood, only breath and warmth and light.

***

Before leaving the castle ruins, they only made sure of one thing, that Marcus's remains had been scatted enough by the helicopter blades to ensure the vicious hybrid would not make his own miraculous regeneration. The head of the dismembered Elder was left where it fell, next to William’s damaged skull. If anyone should ever find this place again, the two Corvinus brothers’ heads would greet them, a testimony to the lengths they had gone to be together.

Michael stared at the grisly sight for a few moments, pondering the faces that were slowly reverting back to human in death. In their mortal forms, they had indeed been identical, with red hair and long hooked noses. It occurred to Michael that he had never seen Marcus in anything but his hybrid form. These men were my uncles, way back, a terrible voice said in the back of his head. But given all that he had been through in the past few days, this fact, although uncomfortable, was no more twisted than anything else. That he had met his ancient ancestor was just too strange to comprehend, much less the sons of that ancient ancestor. That he had killed one of them with his bare hands was just one strange thought lying on top of a pile of equally bizarre ones. These monsters may have shared some of the same blood, but they were not his family, and as he surveyed their faces, he felt no sense of kinship, no guilt as what he had done to protect himself and Selene.

He next went to the fallen helicopter. Inside, there were no weapons left, just the bodies of the two pilots. Neither had survived the fall when Marcus had so violently yanked them from the perch in the sky. The first had broken his neck; the second had been impaled on large splinters of metal. Their uniforms held no labels of their identities; Selene had never asked their names. The pilots could not be buried in this frozen, rocky place, but he wouldn't leave their bodies as they were. He collected some supplies from the aircraft, including jackets for himself and Selene, and then pulled the gas lines out and set the helicopter blazing. Michael dragged the lycans over to the fire as well, their bodies having also gone back to their original human states. In the end, the only corpses left in the dismal place were that of the Corvinus twins, and that was only because neither Selene nor he wanted to go near them.

Selene had explained what had transpired when he been out for the count, floating halfway somewhere between paralysis and death. She’d thought he’d been dead, she told him, though she had hardly needed to. Though not totally aware of what had gone on around him, Michael did have recollections of his two “dead” hours: he remembered being placed in a body bag, parts of the helicopter ride. He remembered hearing the gunfire.

And he remembered her begging him to not be dead. Pleading, crying, hitting him in grief and frustration. He had wanted to sit up, to say I’m alright, don’t worry, but a force even more powerful than his bone-aching exhaustion had gripped him, preventing him from even blinking or drawing breath to assure her he was still there, still with her. For a while, he had thought that he might truly be dead. It wasn’t until he had been in the sky above the castle that he had been able to force his eyes open, to be able to move at all.

But it was hearing the Cleaners say that she was being overwhelmed by the proto-lycans below that had gotten him moving. The new, strangely feral part of him, the same part that encouraged him to go for throats and spines with teeth and claws, had screamed at him to wake up, to protect her, his guide and defender and mate.

His mate.

This last concept hammered in his veins, as much a part of this awakening in his brain as was the drive for blood, but given all they had been through together in the last few days, what else was there? He wouldn’t have flattered himself at all with this thought of possession, of a relationship of any kind without a verbal affirmation from her, but hearing her reaction to his injuries had made him realize one distinctly important truth, and that was that he was not alone in this....pull, this attraction, whatever it was. Looking beyond the growing flames, he saw her walking along the walls, running her hand over the stone, her face unreadable. In her other hand, she held the pendant, its chain missing. She looked up and caught him watching her, and they stared at each other calmly for several long moments. Eventually, she walked over to him.

“Are you ready to go?” She asked, accepting the long jacket he handed to her.

“Are you?”

She looked at him solemnly, but did not respond.

“Come on,” he said gently, taking her hand in his and pulling her away from the fire. In the clearer, cooler air, she looked up and around once more, taking in the sight of the fortress her father had built, of how it was so degraded now, crumbling and damaged by war and far too much time, but also dripping with sunlight. She took a deep breath and nodded.

“Here,” she said softly, presenting the pendant to him. “It's still yours, I think.”

He reached out, taking what she offered with a smile. She nodded again, her eyes wide as she looked at him, and together they left the ruin.

***

The snow that had capped the peak had disappeared hours before; the descent to the base meant warmer temperatures. But the change in climate did nothing to alleviate Selene’s worries. The trek down the mountainside was so uneventful that she couldn’t help but feeling that something had to go wrong. She and Michael met up with no vengeful immortals, no human police, no one. Of course, the fact that they were traveling in open day, as opposed to the comforting darkness that even the light-tolerant lycans preferred, was possibly a contributing factor to this peace. But as the sun started to set, a realization hit her.

It was possible no one would come for them for some time.

The death toll of the past few days was astronomical, even with the history of a six hundred-year old war. The entire governing structure of the vampire nation had crumbled; the Elders were dead, Kraven was as well, and the Council had been destroyed. Almost every high-ranking member of the Death Dealers other than herself had most likely been slain in the fight in the underground. The lycans would be in a similar state of shock and chaos, their leaders also having been killed. All that was left of the legacy of the immortal authority that had ruled for so long was gone. The Cleaner Samuel had revealed to her that Marcus had destroyed the mansion and everyone in it. With Michael’s apparent death still hanging over her at the time, she had not given that fact more than a second’s thought. Now, however, she had time to think on it. So many people in the mansion had ridiculed her for her belligerent lifestyle, despised her for her antisocial behavior, so peculiar for their kind. So many of them had done nothing but swim in their own pleasures for decades, spending more time in hedonistic pursuits than mortals had in their entire lifetimes. But even so, the place that had been her home for centuries was gone. She had known as soon as she had killed Viktor that there never would be a place for her there again, but the knowledge that it was wrecked and empty of life was strange to think about.

There was still Amelia's coven in America to think about, but with the European infrastructure in tatters, it was possible that no one from that end would even know how closely Selene had been involved with the destruction. They might have thought that she herself had been killed in the chaos as nothing more than a minor character. They might not even have known that their sister cover was gone.

They might not have known about Michael, about his powers and abilities. But she couldn't help but suspect that was wishful thinking. Death Dealers had seen him, lycan soldiers had witnessed what he was capable of doing. Some of these onlookers might have survived.

Selene stepped over a large branch on the forest floor. Down near the foot of mountain, it was much warmer. Still, the late autumn air held the promise of winter coming on. The nightfall that had draped over them like a blanket meant a deep temperature drop. She was trained to ignore the cold but he was not.

“Michael, I—” She turned to look at him, and stopped. His eyes were blackened, and his breath was heavy. How had she not noticed it? He was probably starving. The change in him had never been properly sated, and the little bit of blood he had taken from her after the police had attacked him had certainly not been enough to quench a thirst probably tripled by heavy injury and massive regeneration.

She walked back towards him, slowed when his head snapped up in warning. “Michael, you can’t deny this anymore. You’re going to need to feed, and soon. Otherwise, the hunger will overtake you at anytime.”

Michael’s posture changed and his shoulders dropped. His black eyes searched her face, but she simply looked at him calmly, passively. After a long moment, he let out a breath. “What do I need to do?”

“Hunt,” she said simply. “Search for prey and feed. You have instincts. You need to learn to use them.”

“But what about—”

“—There aren’t humans around for kilometers,” she interrupted him. “We’re nowhere near a settlement. But places like these are full of animals.”

He shifted, looking uncomfortable.

“Michael,” she sighed, “you need to do this. You cannot ignore this part of you, much as you may wish to, for the sake of human scruples. You could hurt people if you don't do this. You might even try to hurt me, and in that state, I don't know if I could stop you.”

At last, she had found the right argument. The hybrid took a deep breath, and then slowly nodded.

***

Hands shaking, he shed his jacket, and shut his eyes. Hunger made helped him cross the threshold of transformation easier than ever before. Without the distraction of attack, he could for the first time be truly aware of the changes he was undergoing, feel his blood pump faster, his muscles twist and ripple underneath his tingling skin. His teeth shifted and nails lengthened into deadly points. He was barely ready to admit it even to himself, but there was pleasure in this shift, even though the power still scared him shitless. When he opened his eyes again, Selene was looking straight at him, a curious look on her face. He let out a soft grunt, ignoring the way something in his blood called for hers, and turned on his heel, bounding into the dense cluster of trees, her words echoing in his head, knowing she wouldn't go far without him. He twisted just for a moment and saw Selene set down his jacket on the pebbled shore of the stream they had been following down the mountain. Her hair fell into her face, caressing her beautiful, exposed neck as it swung forward. The sight made him salivate and frightened him more than even, and he turned again, and set off into the night, vowing to get as far away from her before he sated this bloody craving.

He had gone a good distance into the woods when he stopped. In the darkness, Michael felt his senses heighten. The trees around him teemed with nocturnal life. In the distance, wolves, real wolves, sang in their eerie harmony. An owl hunted not far from where he was, probably for voles or shrews in the dirt. Michael breathed through his elongated fangs, listening and smelling for a sign of desirable prey.

For the first time in his own existence, the first time since becoming an immortal, he let go. He felt prepared, ready to become the predator. His own impulses combined with what might have been Lucian's memories of hunting filled his head. He smelled the air, listened for signs…there. It was not far from him; something in him telling him it was what he was looking for. He turned left and quietly moved through the trees, careful not to disturb anything that could make noise; a difficult feat among fallen autumn leaves. And then he stopped in a space between the foliage.

The buck was alone in the clearing, grazing on the little bit of grass not yet destroyed by the oncoming seasonal chill. Michael held his breath, steeling himself for what he was about to do. The deer lifted its head, sniffed the air, and lowered again to continue to eat. Michael could hear its pulse running, fast and full of life, and the need to feed rose up in him. Against his will, a soft growl began to build in Michael’s throat. The deer’s head snapped up in alarm, its own senses telling it a predator was close, and it poised itself to run.

But it was too late. Michael lunged forward, far faster than even the four-legged animal, and in a split second, the deer lay at his feet, its neck snapped. After a second or two of twitching, the thing died. It had never made a sound. It had never stood a chance.

But Michael didn’t stop to think of what a piteous sight the dead animal made. He let the carnivore in him rise up and he fell upon his quarry with abandon, sinking fangs into its throat. Fresh, hot blood gushed around his mouth. This was what he had feared, to relish in the destruction of another living being. The doctor in him should have been horrified...do no harm...you swore to do no harm. Instead, the part of him that was human and conscious of what he was doing considered that this was nothing more than survival, nothing more than following instinct. There was no sin in this, no need for shame. This was far more natural than anything else. This was life, something that had been nearly snatched from him so recently.

When he was done, he sat up, feeling sated. The carcass he dragged to the side of the clearing, half-buried in fallen leaves. Other animals would find it and devour the rest. Nature would do the job.

Standing straight, Michael tried to force himself to breath slowly, but his energy level was too incredibly high. The lagging exhaustion he’d felt since waking up in the helicopter was gone, replaced by a vitality he’d not felt since...well, ever. He breathed for a few moments, taking in this new vigor. He changed back into his human form and wiped the excess blood from his face. Feeling exhilarated and almost high on it, Michael’s pulse raced. There was no need to ponder the source, when the answer was simple: his immortal nature had required the kill, the abandonment of his inhibitions, and his acceptance what he had become. He had done just that, and in doing so had fully become a predator, capable of giving in to his instincts.

Selene would understand. She had been a hunter for six centuries. He wondered if she had ever reacted to a kill the way he had. Making a point to ask her, he looked around. The most obvious way to get back the where he had left Selene was by following his own scent back to her. As he followed his trail back, he forced himself to calm down, breathing slowly and trying to rein in his energy. But he realized, as he quietly came upon her, that he needn’t have bothered. In the same moment, he caught sight and scent of her; instantly, he was overwhelmed. He had never seen a more exquisite or tantalizing vision in his life.

The beautiful woman knelt by the stream, absolutely naked. Her skin seemed to glow in the moonlight and in the cold, steam emanated from her body. Her battered, torn uniform lay abandoned at her side, and next to that, even closer, her gun. He smelled a small animal's freshly-spilled blood near her, her own prey. Water dripped from her hair, sliding down her flawless skin in tiny rivulets.

Michael had never seen anything so incredibly perfect.

His heart rate went up again, faster even than before. His mouth began to water. The growl in the back of his throat that had only stopped after the death of the stag came back, soft and so low that not even she with her enhanced hearing seemed to detect it. The need he had felt just before feeding on the deer was nothing compared to the desire he had to lick every inch of her pale, gleaming flesh, to feel her underneath him. He wanted to drive into her until the end of the world, to feel her writhe and pulse around him again, to hear her moan his name until her voice cracked. He had to force himself not to lunge at her like a beast. Instead, he stalked across the line of trees, waiting for the right moment to approach, dark eyes unblinkingly watching her in the shadows.

***

Selene crouched by the stream, feeling better herself for having fed. Her meal, a completely drained rabbit, lay next to her, curled into a sleep-like position, a clean cut across its throat. The vampire washed the fresh blood from her fingers. But bent over the water, she caught sight of herself. Blood, mostly which had belonged to the proto-lycanthropic Cleaners, matted her hair. More blood, probably her own, had dried across her forehead, leaving a rusty brown powder. Disgusted, she shed her heavy trench coat, the corset, her boots, and her wrist guards. Finally, she stripped off her leather suit and began to wash in the freezing mountain spring water; standing, the water only came up halfway her legs, but she didn’t care. Nor did the cold bother her half so much as the repulsive state in which she found herself. The crusted gore came off easily and floated away. When she was clean to her satisfaction, she stepped back onto the bank, grabbing her suit. She had started to don it, when—

Crack, she heard a twig snap. Startled, Selene sprang up to her full height, grabbing her gun, and knocking the rabbit’s body into the stream to float away. She stepped out of the shallow water onto the cold, pebbled ground. Her eyes sharpened; she could feel them turning blue. She certainly did not want to be stumbled upon in this state, either by mortal or immortal. Her recently increased strength be damned, her dignity protested a potential fight if she was going to be naked.

She held her breath, waiting for the invisible presence to appear. But nothing happened; nothing came out of the tree line. She strained to hear for anything, and heard only the breeze rustling through the leaves. Crack, to her left. She spun on her toe, pointing the gun to the source of the noise. A fox yipped and walked into view, then took one look at her and fled.

Sighing and shaking her head, Selene turned back to face the stream and looked down at her suit. There was no hope for it; the damage caused by Marcus’s wing was irreparable. She would need to get a new one. She considered that while picking it up. Am I even a Death Dealer anymore? Who am I, what am I, if I'm not? All the same, she turned it around in her hands, preparing to don it again.

A soft growl behind her left ear startled her, but not so much as what happened next. A head of blond hair appeared in her peripheral vision. Michael. She twisted to look at him, but found herself captured, strong hands grasping her shoulders. He was behind her, nuzzling her neck and growling her name possessively. Hot, blood-scented breath spread across her skin. He wrapped his arms around her fully, pulling her into a pocket of warmth despite the cold. She was engulfed in Michael’s comforting, distinctive, and undeniably sexy smell.

Selene’s breath caught in her throat. Her gun fell from her loose fingers and tumbled to the ground. Whatever feral part of him that he had tried for days to ignore was coming out, and he was allowing that part of him to initiate this contact. It was what they both needed, after the worry, pain, and hurt, after the temporary loss and maddening grief.

Michael stopped the gentle caress and began kissing her throat, from the base of her shoulder, slowly up to an especially sensitive spot behind her ear. She let out the softest of moans and closed her eyes, knowing that they were glowing bright blue no longer out of wariness but from something else that was just as instinctive. She dipped her head to the side, allowing him more access, but he twisted her whole body around and kissed her mouth, unhesitating and passionate. She opened her eyes, for only a second, and saw that his eyes were still his hybrid-form’s inky black, that he was watching her. He moved one incredibly strong hand down from her shoulder to her waist, stroking her lower back, while his fingers on his other hand ran lightly up and down her hip. Her cold skin welcomed the contact, nerves humming pleasantly wherever flesh met flesh.

Selene responded actively. This new, much more primal behavior of Michael’s was making her far more aroused than she had expected she would ever be. It could the blood on his breath, or even that he was the one initiating, the one being the aggressor. But she knew the truth. It was just him. His mere presence was having an aphrodisiacal affect on her; his smell, his eyes, and the way he paused for breath with every powerful kiss, breath that until recently she thought she would never feel again.

He was dead. This was the only thought that reached past her limbic system. I lost him; he was dead, right in front of me. She shuddered, but from something that was the complete opposite of revulsion. The body that had lain lifeless under her arms and tears only hours before was now powerfully dynamic. He was alive, and everything in her told her to celebrate that. He was alive, muscle and bone and blood all powerfully animated under her touch, his hands keeping her firmly pressed against him, his enthusiasm and desire for her evident. He's certainly not dead now. The wicked thought shot through her every nerve, along with the awareness that he was still partially clothed, a fact which suddenly did not suit her needs at all. Her hands moved between them to unbutton his pants, enjoying the noises he made as she deliberately touched him, relishing in his sharp intake of breath against her mouth as she moved to explore his newly-exposed skin with intentional, exquisite slowness.

His hands were at work too; they firmly grabbed her hips and forcibly shoved her backwards into a tree not a full meter away from them. The aggressive action did not anger or even hurt her. Her craving for him was too overwhelming for any other feeling.

Michael kept her pinned to the tree, strong arms preventing her from escape. She was completely at his mercy, even as he took a few seconds to kick off his shoes and trousers. His mouth traveled between her shoulders, leaving a cold trail in his wake. Selene shivered and took his face in her hands, kissing him deeply. Michael flattened himself against her, hinting one knee between hers, and dragged his lips down her neck, sucking lightly at her skin while he simultaneously palmed one of her breasts. She moaned harshly and pushed her hips insistently against his, snaking one hand around him to squeeze his backside and pull him closer.

Growling, Michael hooked his hand behind her knee and tugged upwards, so that her leg was half-wrapped around his. Selene crossed her arms behind his neck and lifted herself higher, hissing agreeably when Michael bent his head to nip at her collarbone. She all but climbed up him to kiss his mouth as he repeated his action with her other leg, pulling it around him. Her back scraped against the harsh surface of the tree as Michael moved her higher, but barely any sensation from it registered, much less pain; she was far too focused on the hands that gripped her thighs with vice-like strength and the lips that dragged across her mouth and down her neck. She didn't even feel the cold anymore, although she could see steam rising from both their bodies. Her skin felt like it was pleasantly on fire.

Finally satisfied with how high she was off the ground, Michael moved closer so that he was completely cradled between her legs, so that their bellies and hips were pressed tightly against each other. She whimpered quietly at the contact, and tried to push her pelvis harder against his, but his grip on her was so tight that the movement yielded nothing more than a frustrating twitch. His eyes snapped open, still ebony-black and predatorial, to stare at her. Immediately, Selene felt the air leave her lungs at the frank want in his face. Her mouth began to water in response to it.

“Michael...” she whispered, rolling her hips against his obstinate hold.

“Yeah,” he said simply, and pushed into her in one motion.

Because of the position they were in, this joining movement was anything but slow. Selene cried out at the welcome invasion, digging her fingers into Michael's shoulders. He grunted, his hot breath rattling against her neck, and then brought his mouth up to hers. As their lips met, Michael pushed into her again, and again, and again in a deliberate rhythm, all the time, holding her tightly against the rough surface of the tree, which was now shaking from their combined exertion, brown leaves raining around them. As the moments passed, his hands did allow more movement, which she used to raise her hips to every thrust. The sweat built up on his shoulders, but she held onto him as if for dear life. She pulled him in for a heated kiss, which was punctuated only by her gasp, as Michael half-growled and built speed, sucking on her lower lip before releasing her and violently shoving his hips against hers.

She let out a another cry and arched her back against the obliging tree, gripping his neck and shoulders as he buried his face in her hair. Their movements were becoming frenzied, the pressure that was building in both of them bringing them ever closer to complete desperation.

Selene by then had lost all ability to think of anything beyond the man who had defied several natural laws to be making love to her now. Barely remembering her own name, she repeatedly gasped his, her voice high and hectic, in tandem with his thrusts, half out of encouragement for him and half out of her own frantic need to say it. Michael, Michael, Michael. Part of her, despite the obvious and tangible proof to the opposite, was still unable to believe he was alive, incredulous to the flesh and sweat and breath and desire that now irrevocably mixed with her own. Somehow, somewhere in her fevered and ecstatic brain, the constant repetition helped.

Michael jerked her legs higher and his name dissolved on her tongue, dripping from her mouth instead as a fervent moan, the tension he drove into her increasing greatly. As his lips closed again on her collarbone, he pressed fiercely into her again, driving her completely over the edge and into blinding gratification. A strangled cry ripped its way from her throat as she arched her back and tightened her limbs around Michael in a way that might have been painful for them both under less intimate or impassioned circumstances, holding on for dear life as her body surrendered, burying her face in the curve of his shoulder. Thrusting into her once more, he followed her into orgasm, releasing a choked, gasping groan along with the explosion of warmth he left in her twitching belly.

They hyperventilated into each others necks for nearly a full minute, still joined, not speaking, taking in what had just happened with minds that were still too numb to think properly. Selene clung to Michael stubbornly, unable to fathom what else to do. As their breathing finally began to slow, although not yet to a normal pace, Michael separated their cooling skin and gently lowered her until her feet touched the ground.

Feeling weak, Selene rested back against the tree and stared at Michael. His eyes were green and human again, and they looked back at her unblinkingly. Then his gaze traveled to her shoulder, and his face fell.

"Selene,” he said hesitantly, “are you alri-”

Before he could finish his question, before he could truly begin to berate his blameless self, she grabbed him by the neck and pulled him in for another blisteringly heated kiss.

***

It was very difficult to think when Selene's tongue was in his mouth, but Michael was making a valiant effort. What the hell had he done? She was covered in bruises, on her thighs, shoulders, and neck, and he was scared to think what her back looked like, scraped as it had been against the tree. Her normally full lips looked even more swollen. But she had kissed him deeply enough to stop him from even asking if he had gone to far, enough to make him think she might would swallow him whole if she could, and by the time she pulled away, the reddish-purple marks he had left on her had faded to a vague pink, barely visible in the bright moonlight.

"See?” she asked.

He sighed. “I know,” he leaned his forehead against hers, his breath shallow and quick. “No need.”

Her teeth flashed briefly, and he realized with a shock that she had oh-so-quickly smiled. His stomach jolted. She was so fucking beautiful, standing there naked and disheveled, smelling of gunpowder and sex, her eyes ice-blue. Michael softly moved his hand down her side to caress her hip.

Selene brought a hand up to his jaw and dragged her thumb across his mouth. “You fed.” It wasn't a question.

Michael nodded. “Yeah.”

"Good.” She twined her fingers into his hair but said nothing else, breathing deeply and looking more relaxed than he had ever seen her. Even asleep in the warehouse, her brow had been tense and furrowed, her muscles tense. Now she seemed meditative, almost prayerfully peaceful. But what Michael felt wasn't peace; it wasn't even close.

God, he wanted her again. It was as undeniable as the taste of her that still lingered in his mouth. His skin burned wherever it made contact with hers. Already his pulse was picking up speed again. His voice hitched as he spoke.

"We should...are you..." He shook his head and started again. "God, I..."

Either Selene understood his garbled communication for what it had been meant to be or she just took pity on him. She crossed the few inches separating their lips. Immediately Michael felt something shift in himself. His uneasiness dissolved. He felt like he could have, in that moment, truly returned from death. He could have done anything. But he was perfectly content to stand naked in the middle of a freezing forest, not even sure of what country he was in, as long as he was able to touch her, this violent, vulnerable woman who shocked him by allowing him to follow her, much less this. His fingers traveled along her back, ghosting across her shoulder blades and the soft ridges of her spine, tracing her skin with lazy slowness. Selene sighed inaudibly against his mouth, one hand on his face, the other wrapping around his shoulder.

They remained this way for several minutes, standing in the cold, loosely entwined around each other. But as the moments passed, their hands and lips became more insistent, and they clung to each other as if attempting to fully occupy the same space. The need that had been temporarily sated was returning full force in both of them, although this time Michael made a point to savor the experience, without the rush or violent abandon that had so fiercely gripped him merely moments before. He gently lowered her to the cold, leaf-strewn ground. She responded by pulling at his arms to join her and lifting her mouth to meet his. Michael kissed her hungrily, pushing her into the earth, separate hands gently holding her face and moving over her body, exploring between her legs. She let her head fall back, squeezing her eyes shut, and he took this moment to press his lips to her completely exposed neck, reveling in the moment, in her shallow, pleasured breaths, even in the fingernails that dug into his back enough to cause pain. She was completely his at that moment, and he intended to make that last as long as possible, no matter how cold it got, no matter that all of nature was watching. Kissing him again, she pulled him to her, tightly wrapping her limbs around him, so close that he was sure she could his heart beating wildly in his chest as certainly as he could feel hers. When he slowly pressed into her, the outside world faded even more; the moonlight seemed to dim, the rustle of the wind in the leaves becoming subtle as a whisper. The only sounds came from them, his guttural groan muffled, Selene swallowing it whole, her own whine of pleasure completely lost except as a vibration against his tongue. They were so enfolded around each other, and it continued that way for a long time, muted moans and heavy breath and the smooth interplay of muscle, bone, and blood. For all that their bed was a pile of fallen leaves on frozen earth, it was existence that drove them, exulting in each other and in being alive.

It wouldn't last; this peace, this joy would soon be broken by reality. But in that moment, it was enough.