“They… pushed me… into a duel… Barón… pushed me…” Marc said, his thoughts disjointed and incoherent.

“Wait? Coronel Rafael Arnáiz Barón?”

Marc did not realise he uttered that name. The one who expected him to roll over and die… He finally got his wish…

“Got what…(he)…deserved…” Marc whispered.

“What did I do to you?”

His invitation here is what threw him off. It was the dock attendant’s slip of that tongue that should have warned him it was purposeful… all of it planned to get me to this point…

“Personally?” Susanna replied. “Nothing, but you’ve made powerful enemies while making a name for yourself. Some of which angered my client…”

That confirmed his suspicions, which ought to make his heart sink. However, that did not account for him bleeding out, forcing his heart to beat harder to compensate.

That was followed by the sound of her spitting, accompanied by a wet plop. It looked like a piece of uncooked meat, with two neat puncture marks at the centre… She tore a chunk out of me?

“I was enjoying my meal,” Susanna said.

“What are you?” Marc managed to ask as it took all he had to fill his lungs again.

He hoped the question would momentarily distract her. However, the placement of her foot against his spine was precise and purposeful. Any movement filled his vision with crackling bolts of lightning.

“Not so easy, is it?” Susanna taunted.

Marc looked down over his lightly haired chest and saw Susanna’s lips pressed firmly against his thigh. It appeared to be little more than a kiss, although with more suction.

The effect of this kiss was starling, the colouring of her lips grew deeper, an effect that propagated all the way to her toes. If not for a thin rivulet of blood, originating from out of the corner of her lips, there was nothing to arouse suspicion… Is that my blood?

Without thought of consequence, Marc bent back his free leg and kicked her forehead. That wave of ecstasy ceased entirely. It was replaced by overwhelming pain that caused him to fall off the settee while holding onto his thigh. Before his body settled, her foot pushed his chest flat against the floor.

When she bit him, the sharp pain he experienced was immediately overridden by unbridled ecstasy. His entire body reacted positively, his penis throbbed, and heart tried to leap from his chest… —This isn’t right…

Before Émilie’s betrayal, their relationship elicited an occasional break in the cloud cover. However, that was after months of concerted effort to alter course, even then the rudder barely moved… —This makes no sense…

Somehow the Contessa managed to send him into the light with nothing more than a kiss? —This is all a lie!

Before meeting with the Contessa, there were few instances of Marc’s life where he was genuinely happy. On the other hand, he could rhyme off several notable examples of anguish, anger, and rage.

While generally content, his ship rarely sailed into the light. Instead, he maintained a steady course under a perpetually grey sky. On occasion a gale would veer him off course into the waters harbouring his darker side.

“Not here,” Susana said. “For that, we’ll need to retire to my quarters.”

“I’m not sure—”

She grabbed his sword quicker than a hungry seagull could swallow  fish and headed towards the stairs. Confusion fogged his mind, leaving him uncertain of what to do.

“Don’t worry, Monsieur,” the Contessa said. “We can rejoin the party later.”

There was no one else. If the bartender was right, then the regulars would show up around the witching hour. That gives us plenty of  time. He gulped, and kicked off towards her. He had to admit this certainly qualified as a change of pace… I’d love to know how she moves so fast…

“For a woman?”

“For any swordsman.”

Her smile grew in size, as though the response surprised her. However, her eyes were not focused on him, but the wound that ceased bleeding.

“How did you—” Marc said.

“I believe you owe me a kiss, Monsieur.”

Marc went to close the distance between them, but her outstretched arm kept him at bay. 

He winced and reached for the wound, feeling the all too familiar viscous liquid flowing… How’s that even—

“I believe that’s first blood, Monsieur.”

He took a step forward, did an about face, and found her in the corner. That impenetrable mask she wore during the fight was replaced by a warm smile, which left his jaw hanging loosely. Despite holding him at bay for the duration of the match, she was no worse for wear… not a single hair is out of place.

“That… was… impressive,” Marc said in between breaths. 

“For a woman?”

Since staying out in the open did him no favours, Marc had to restrict her avenues of advance. The next time she tapped him, he ran towards the corner. Seconds before slamming into the wall, he pivoted in the air and landed two paces away from the walls. To his left and right there were no signs of her, but when he took half-step back, there came the sound of crinkling fabric…

If not for the sound, he would have assumed that an amorous cat ran up against his leg. The Contessa was nowhere in sight, but something was missing from the equation… I can’t hear her breathing…

In fact, the only sound clear in his mind was the crackling fire. As the hairs rose up along the back of his neck, there came a sharp sting at the tip of his right ear.