The Heartwood heart to heart

Their chance encounter was balanced on a needlepoint as Alya awaited the man's answer. She could be faster than him, she knew, but her body burned to be near him - near to any man, in fact, but especially to one like him. Vaati was strong and scarred, pale and battle-worn like her father. Hydra's mark was upon him, somehow more erotic than ugly in the gloomy half-light. And then he said those freeing words - unless you beat me to it.

Cold, blue eyes bored into his for a moment before they warmed, apparently accepting the words as truth. The dark woman closed the distance between them, still watchful and wary but unable to keep herself from trying to touch the strange young man. A dark, damp nose sought refuge in the uninjured sight of his shoulder, and unaccoutably, Alya felt a shiver rake itself down her spine.

The woman pulled back, feeling strangely threatened. "Alya," she replied.