Patience refused to sleep in the next morning. She had asked Anax to wake her once dawn broke. A quick splash of water from the basin was enough to wash the sleep from her eyes. She haphazardly threw her nightgown atop the bed before fumbling with her chemise and corset, her nerves frustrating her coordination. Teeth snapping into a piece of sausage, Patience dressed into her smock and pantaloons.

“Where are you off to this morning?” asked Anax.

“I’ll be quick. I’m thinking of going to a bakery for some fresh bread,” lied the girl. Accepting this reason, Anax fell into silence. Patience removed him before he could detect her fiction and stowed the skull in the water closet. She flew down the stairs of the hotel and dove into her undercooked plan.

Outside, the streets were paved with fog. Patience’s heart began to flutter, spurring her to place a hand to her chest while she paced down the sidewalk. Cold droplets clung to her face. Having forgotten her jacket in her haste, the hairs on her arms rose. The mist parted ways as she swept through the soup. Her skin could not help but interpret it as Anax’s touch. It only fueled her resolve to keep the skull away from Valon.

Had it not been for the dolphin statue, Patience would have bypassed the plain wooden-clad facade of Valon’s inn. In the daylight, she noticed how small it was compared to her hotel. It was rather weathered on the outside and it seemed even more so inside the lobby: furniture sat dusty, wallpaper peeled, grime sullied the windows. Patience felt a little sorry for it as she approached the front desk. She greeted the lone attendant and gave him Valon’s description. A disinterested reply informed her that the man she sought had just stepped out.

“Did he say where he was going?”

“He mumbled something about presenting at the hunter’s association as he left,” said the desk clerk. He barely met her gaze as he busied himself organizing keys.

“Thank you! You wouldn’t happen to know where that is, would you?” Patience asked sweetly.

“It’ll be the forest green building at the end of Juniper street, walking left of the little Baptist church,” the clerk stated, hanging the keys onto a board. Patience thanked him once more and departed.

The hazy roads were still fairly empty by the time Patience found Juniper street. Dark, vacant windows stared at the girl cutting past them. A few bundled figures crept in the distance, the mist illusorily painting them translucent. On either side of her, Patience could only picture phantoms prowling. It was ethereal. The fog threatened to devour the town in gray purgatory.

The hunter’s association loomed at the end of the road. It sat between two tall trees a few hundred yards past the gambling house. Isolated and brooding in the fog, the edifice conjured a bit of dread in Patience’s heart. A stately lodge, the front doors boasted the pride of hunters. Lurking wild animals and monsters were roughly carved into the thick walnut panels. The windows on either side stood covered from the inside with dark green velvet, hiding the hall’s secrets from the girl.

The doors were locked. She stepped around the corner, searching for any trace of Valon. It was then that she heard the clatter of metal. At first Patience drew back, scared she might get caught skulking around. But the fear of another spasm racking the man was greater, so she ran straight toward the noise. The back of the lodge opened to a patio area in which she discovered Valon bent over a spilled tin dish, a splatter of oatmeal cast on the brick pavers.

“Damn it all to Hell,” Valon cursed, clenching a spoon in his mouth. His right arm trembled at his side.

“Valon …” Patience breathed.

The man shot his head up, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Looks like I caught you by surprise for once,” she said. Valon remained silent as he picked up the dish. Patience cautiously approached him as one would a cornered animal. The hunter ripped the spoon from his mouth and gripped it so tight it appeared he wished to strangle it.

“What are you doing here?” Valon grumbled.

“I wanted to talk,” Patience said. When she realized she was on the other side of the conversation, she could not help but laugh to herself. Valon stood for a moment, the shaking in his arm slowly subsiding.

“Well, the cold is no place to do it. You’re barely covered,” he said, nodding at Patience’s simple smock. “Come in.” He waved a hand his way and lurched inside, bringing the dish with him. Patience followed.

The interior of the lodge smelled of smoke and leather and was as dark as the curtains that hid it. Their footfalls triggered groaning creaks from the hardwood floors. Plush high-backed chairs circled the impressive stone fireplace rising from the center of the hall through the towering roof. Patience caught glimpses of many mounted beasts guarding the perimeter of the main floor while more graced the walls. Only vague shapes in the dim light, she could not identify their species. Valon led her to a back room, the hall’s communal kitchen.

A lone uncovered window lit the rustic kitchen with shaded light from the patio. Filling up the center of the room was a large work table with a few stools tucked underneath. Valon threw his dirty dish into the farm sink. A pot with crusted oatmeal sat atop a stove next to a wide, old fireplace. The hunter reached into a cupboard and produced a can of coffee. He began boiling some water. Patience seated herself on a stool near the kitchen door with the table between her and the man. She watched him work.

“You have a presentation here?” she asked.

Valon shot her a glance with an eyebrow raised. That was the highest she had ever seen one of his brows go in the brief time that she knew him.

“It was that loose-lipped clerk. He directed you here and told you my business. I ought to show him my knife,” he grumbled. Curses in a language unfamiliar to Patience passed over his tongue before he turned around to stir the coffee grounds in the water.

“This chapter of the hunter’s association asked me to speak, share some of my stories and advice. It’s why I came to this town,” he disclosed.

“When’s that?”

“This afternoon.”

“And you’re here so early?”

“I like to get my thoughts straight beforehand,” he replied. Minutes of silence passed as he tended to the pot and rummaged for clean cups. When he finally turned to face Patience again, a steaming cup of coffee slid over to her hand. Valon had his own in his burled fingers.

She took a sip. It was strong and bitter, just like its maker. She dared not ask for sugar. “I’m more of a tea person myself, but thank you,” said Patience

Valon chuckled, “I figured you would be. But this place is fresh out of tea.” He took a seat across from Patience.

Still, she could not meet his piercing eyes. She wondered where this conversation would go. It was as if she were meandering down a forest path between thick trees, her destination shrouded and unknown.

“What stories do you have to share?” Patience meekly queried.

Valon sniffed, flashing a glance at the girl from beneath his brow, his stare a nail prick on the skin of her chest. “Should I tell the story of my four month hunt through scorching deserts for the man-eating Yguain Devil? Or the time I spent eight months on the tracks of the beast of Wynossett Hills said to mimic the voices of your loved ones and lead you to madness?”

Patience recalled reading passages on these exotic beasts in her father’s books. As dangerous as they were, she could not help feeling sorry for them. Patience wondered if Valon would hesitate to take a life if he knew it was the last of its kind. Dragons, unicorns, gryphons, and so many other species were hunted to extinction in bygone eras: for their hides, for their organs, for sport. She wondered what could be next. The yaszaha. Anax never mentioned how many of his kind there were. There could not be that many; as far as they all knew, his kind only inhabited areas in Vyugary, a country that was not the largest to begin with.

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“I’ve got loads of tales from my adventures in the wilderness,” he boasted.

“But is that all there is to your life? Just looking for your next quarry?” Patience asked quietly.

“Well, not anymore. After so many years chasing the heels of so many creatures, I was finally ready to stop. But even in retirement, I can’t have peace,” Valon growled. “These tremors started as little twitches here and there, but with each passing year they’ve gotten worse.” He leaned toward Patience. “So I’m on my last hunt. For a cure.”

Patience reeled back slightly. She was not about ready to give up on her cause. “Anax may not be your answer.”

“You don’t know that!” Valon shouted, jumping to his feet. His nostrils flared. “I’ve sought the help from countless doctors, wizards, and even a few warlocks.”

Patience startled at the mention of warlocks. Any magical practitioner evidenced to practice dark artistry were deemed in violation of the Samhain Accord and posted on wanted lists internationally as warlocks. Valon had danced with the most dangerous beasts and people alive. He was truly desperate. She gazed at him in awe.

“None of their remedies helped,” he seethed, slamming his fist on the table. His back fell and rose with every breath. He glared into her eyes as he trudged closer. A snarl boiled from his mouth, “I need that skull!”

He charged.

But just a step away from Patience, the man froze. Another maelstrom of tremors struck his body. The girl hopped up to steady him. His solid body quaked underneath her fingers as an unearthly force shook him. She winced when he grabbed her upper arm. Despite his force, the fear subsided within her. Up close Patience noticed his muscled figure straining underneath his navy sweater, the slant of his jaw, the cords of his neck. She was inexplicably drawn to him. Her heart drummed.

Patience’s face softened. Meeting eyes with the man, she found herself falling into the icy pools. “No Anax … just me … I … I want to help you.”

“Help me?” growled Valon. The severe fissure carved into his jaw tightened into a frown. His cropped beard bristled, white hairs bright against tan olive skin. Valon’s fist seized at his side, his steel glare boring into Patience’s skull. Unwavering she stared back. Eyes locked he staggered forward, towering over the girl, forcing her back to the table. With a hard thump, his hand landed upon the wooden surface as he braced himself.

His stern face was only inches from Patience. The corners of his mouth twitched insubordinately. This man. He could command hundreds. Men fell silent whenever he entered a room, and they only continued to speak when he would allow them. Yet this man’s own body was beyond his control. The anger and fear shone in his eyes.

Patience clasped her hand around his. It ceased shaking. She brought her other hand to his stubbled cheek; bristles coarse against her palm. She thought they would almost pierce her skin. Touching him was as dangerous as consorting with him. But Patience felt lucky today. She brushed her thumb against his skin, and the wolf lunged.

His teeth flashed before his mouth wrapped around her lips. Sucking and nipping, a predator devouring his catch. Patience succumbed to him. She slipped her smock up and parted her chemise, exposing her breast. Valon licked and bit down her neck as he gripped her chest with rough hands. She placed her arms around his neck, ruffling the back of his hair with her fingers. The smell of sandalwood and macassar oil wafted to her nose. The warmth of his hold ensnared her. There was a strange, surprising comfort in the arms of the hunter.

Valon released her breast and pushed her down to lie on the table, taking care to slide their coffee cups to the far end. He undressed her, pulling off her shoes, smock, pants, and undergarments. Naked, Patience unfolded upon the table, exposing herself to him. Valon stood still for a moment, his expression unchanging. Patience began to wonder what he was thinking before he dove in again and took her mind to other places.

Between her own breathy moans, she could hear him growl. It was low, bestial. He peppered her body with sharp kisses, carnal hunger nearly driving him to draw blood. Patience pressed her back into the table, sparks flashing under her skin at each touch.

He jerked back and removed his sweater. Beneath the wool were muscles pulled taut under skin like worn, oiled leather marred with old scars. Veins rippled through his arms. His chest, hard and chiseled, heaved with aroused breath. Patience sensed a trickle of fluid at the base of her gap.

Valon kicked off his boots and unbuttoned his trousers, tossing them and his drawers aside. His cock sprang forth, released from restraint. At a certain age, most men wither, however the hunter standing before Patience appeared at his peak. She wriggled slightly. From the moment she first laid eyes on him, she knew he was a force to be reckoned with. It was a force that lured her toward its center, persuading her to abandon better judgement. Patience did not want to appear eager, but she silently begged him to enter.

He leaned over her, the head of his cock bouncing with each throb. He placed it between her bottom lips and slid it back and forth teasingly. She felt the heat from his groin and wished him inside already.

“Valon,” breathed Patience. Without a word, he bent into her, bracing his arms around her head. She gingerly pressed her fingers around his biceps. They were just as hard and tenacious as his personality, and the rest of his body for that matter.

Unlike Anax who would ease into her, Valon thrust without hesitation. Patience winced, seething between her teeth. The sting ebbed into pleasure as he pumped into her hole. She wrapped her legs around his middle, desiring to be closer. The way he took command inspired her to submit. She believed he would not leave her wanting for anything.

The man was relentless. He occupied her mouth with his. His hand groped all over her torso. His hips pounded against her bottom, the sound of flesh against flesh emphasized by liquid smacking. Patience flushed at how aroused she was. She tilted her head to the side in embarrassment. Her heart dropped to realize Valon was the first human man she had ever been with. Her mind flashed to Schuler and imagined disappointing him anew. Valon gripped her jaw to force her to his mouth again. His roiling tongue swept away all current thoughts of the musician.

Patience had almost lost her breath when Valon pulled away and stood once more. Saliva dripped between the hairs on his chin. Patience’s fluids glistened all over his length.

“Dirty girl,” he chastised.

He turned around and took the cups to the sink before he doubled back in a rush, pushing three fingers into Patience’s gap. She flinched and shrank into the swirling digits inside her. His thumb rolled around the wet hair surrounding her slit and pressed into her clit. Whimpers escaped her mouth.

With little exertion, he brought his arms around her body and flipped her around. Her chest pressed firmly against the table warmed from body heat. She felt a small puddle below her navel and realized it had all come from her. Valon took a finger and dragged it through the spill and over her sex.

“Look at this mess,” he grumbled. He slapped her ass, a resounding clap crashed into the walls. Heavy hands fell upon her wrists, pinning her to the table. Valon then entered her once more with renewed force, reviving the aching heat of her inner walls.

His length continued to push her toward the edge. It was not as girthy as Anax made himself to be at times, but its stiff heat was something Patience had not experienced before. It drove into her, urging her to come. She shifted her backside closer toward Valon every time he pushed her into the table’s edge with his greedy thrusts.

Ultimately she left the warmth of the wooden surface, whipping upward and arching her back into his chest. Her hands gripped the lip of the table, knuckles turning white. He clutched her hips, clamping onto the fat as a hawk would a soft rabbit. As Valon shoved into her depths, she could feel their juices slide down her thighs.

Patience could endure no longer. She bucked into his pelvis and flung her hand around to grab his ass, preventing him from pulling back too far. She wanted to ride his cock over the edge. Valon hissed and snatched her wrist in a death grip.

“You don’t dictate what I do with you,” he snarled by her ear.

A spark shot down her nerves.

He pulled out only to reinsert himself aggressively and repeated this several times, lingering on the moments he was outside, punishing Patience. Once inside again, he thrust in quick succession, relishing in her gasps. While constricting her chest with his left, he brought his right hand down and thrummed his fingers against her mound, still thrusting, bringing Patience to her climax.

She moaned, clenching down on his shaft. Her walls closed around him, pulsating, while waves of pleasure echoed through her body. She was determined not to let go, only bucking wildly in an attempt to induce his release. He tightened his grip on her breast to force her to stop.

“We’re doing this on my terms,” commanded Valon. With that he pushed Patience against the table again and latched onto her braid, pulling her head back. It was unfortunately the perfect handle. Her neck ached while he rode her into oblivion, his cock burying itself time and time again. It was not until Patience heard him utter a quiet grunt that Valon pressed into her hard and released.

His warm seed pumped wildly, filling her cavity. Patience had only felt the tepid fluid of Anax before. What Valon lacked in volume, he made up for in heat. It was satisfying. The man gave a couple more thrusts, making sure to completely empty himself before dislodging. A trail of slime extended from her gap to his cock while a splash of mixed fluids splattered onto the ground. Valon slapped her backside one last time.

“You wanted to help me? This was just fine,” he said. As he turned to seek out a clean cloth, Patience grabbed him and stared him in the eyes. He had on the same rigid look he always carried. She smiled beneath heavy eyelids. It may have been a residual twitch, but Valon seemed to soften his face for a second.

Wordlessly he pulled on his pants and left the room, feet thudding against the wood. Patience caught her breath, taking a minute to process her own temerity and the weight of what she had just done. She stood awkwardly by the table, very aware of the mess on its surface, on the floor, and creeping down her legs. She thought of his seed inside her.

“Oh Anax will have fun cleaning that out,” she said under her breath before she redressed and promptly left the kitchen. The hall was still as empty as it was when they entered. Patience hurried out of the building, back onto the streets of St. Phocas. She was unsure where Valon had gone, but she was quite certain she made an impression on the hunter.