Silverlight Terrace [M] Left and Leaving

There it went, that last tether to civility slipped away so easily, fleeing out of reach -- out of sight. Whip had made mistakes. He knew them well and held them close. The inevitable disappointment, the pain inflicted on those whom he had once held dear; he had sown a vast garden and had reaped its bitter harvest. Solitude being his only reward. 

Impulse, however, was nothing to fight. This invisible hand had guided him here.

"I survive," he hummed, noting the mischievous smile that spread along the stranger's face. There was a hunger in her gaze. Something natural. Instinctual. Taking a tentative step forward, Whip made his choice.

He took in her scent, nose trailing along the length of the stranger's neck. She carried the scent of others. 

"You don't even know my name," he whispered.