Sawtooth Spire Your love will be safe with me.

He found another scent along the way: a man's, fresh and winding. One by the one the pieces clicked. Spring air, summer heat.

Maybe he should leave.

But Evander carried onward. The man's scent was wholly separate and did not dance with the woman's until this very end. He doubted they came here together. A hapless rogue, perhaps, like himself - though each lay intermingled with the undercurrent of others, distinctly different.

He saw what's what.

A fang greeted him from the lip of the swarthy man. Gilded eyes appraised him, and the woman beyond him, who was not exactly throwing herself the large man's way.

Did I interrupt something? he asked, casual.

His gaze flicked between the two.

He did not come any closer.