Abandoned Papers [Continued]

Evelaina's pen pauses above a fifth, blank page. After chewing her bottom lip in thought, she resumes writing once more.

Reader, I feel the need to digress on this particular page of my story. You see, despite all of the hard times I have endured in my life, I have fond memories as well. Memories that don't contribute to the actual main plot of the story, but memories that I wish to place onto paper for my own sake. I ask you, reader, to not read this page should you simply want to move ahead with the story. However, if you would like to stay, I invite you into my mind on, quite possibly, the most personal level I would allow an unknown reader to be.

I was 15 at the time, still a "girl" by many people's standards, but I was a woman in mind and body.

The rain came down in thick sheets that afternoon, creating tiny rivers that flowed through the narrow streets of Randol's slums. Mud, garbage, blood, spit, and urine mixed into this water, creating such a foul stench that could raise the dead. In fact, I think it might've been able to kill a man. Regardless, it was disgusting and yet the inhabitants of the filthy environment paid no mind to it as they sloshed their way through the mess, going on with their dead-end lives. I was among them.

Unlike many, I had enough gold to afford a thick, hunter green cloak to block the worst of the rain. It made me stand out from the rest of the crowd a bit and I knew there was some jealousy, but they wouldn't dare approach me. I attacked without thinking and killed without mercy. They might've been jealous, but they weren't stupid.

I made my way through the streets and entered the Dragon's Den, one of the few local taverns that Sov hadn't been banned from. My eyes rolled and I sighed as I took in the sight before me.

The few tables in the small tavern had been pushed to the sides, creating a space for a ring of shouting men, obviously being the spectators for a fight of some sort. Women were seated at the bar, glasses of alcohol in hand, cheering on the particpants with a bit more enthusiasm than was normal.

With an eyebrow raised, I slipped my way over to the bar, waving to Tek, the old barkeep. He gave me a toothless grin and shuffled over.

"Wut kan uh gitcha mish Eev?"

"The usual, Tek."

"Right-o mish Eev."

Tek turned and a moment later a glass of amber liquid was in my hand. I never asked what it was. I didn't want to spoil it unless it was something digusting.

I flipped a coin to Tek and looked at the ring of people, curious to know who was fighting and what the extra excitement was about.

"Dey'z fightin' in dere mish Eev," Tek shouted over the din, as if reading my mind.

"Weapons?" I asked casually, sipping my drink.

"Naw. Fishts on'y. In fac' deyz ain't eefin gut duh clooz' on dey backsh!"

I smirked and raised an eyebrow. No wonder why the female clientele was so eager to see who would emerge from the circle of men. I have to admit, my interest was piqued as well.

"Sov's in there?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"He sugeshtud eet mish Eev! An' o coursh e'sh oondeefeetud! Firteen roundsh now mish Eev!"

Now I was definately interested. The longest I'd ever seen Sov fight was eight rounds. He must've either met his match or he turned into a demi-god overnight. I sipped my drink and watched.

Another two rounds went by, which meant another six drinks for me. By the time the circle opened and Sov stepped from its center, roaring about his victory, I was definately beyond being a little drunk. My jaw dropped at the sight. It's not like I'd never seen him unclothed before, but that night was different. Dripping with sweat, muscles rippling, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. He was the definition of masculinity.

The women that were seated around the bar bolted upright as soon as he emerged from the circle, eager to get close to the sheer power and confidence he exuded. Something within me stirred. I growled softly, the sound coming from the back of my throat, low and threatening, but only I could hear it. I was a jaguar. I was a wolf. I was a lioness. I was the huntress and they were after my prey.

Looking purely predatorial and feeling completely unhuman, I slid from the bar stool, slipping through the crowds with ease. Whether it was the alcohol or my own feelings that propelled me forward are still unknown to me, but I captured him regardless. I was swift, eager, and hungry, and ready for a challenge should any of them be foolish enough to try. And as for my prey that I teased mercilessly into one of the rooms upstairs? There was no protest.

"No regrets?" Sov asked me sleepily that next morning, his hoarse voice cutting through the thick mental fog that my slight hangover created. Flashes and snippets of the previous night exploded in my mind. I grinned and laughed softly, a pleasant, wicked happiness settling over me.

"None at all," I replied.

"Again then?" he asked, grinning with his signature mischievous smile.

"Sixteen rounds..." I mumbled, laughing softly.

"You kill me..."

"It's a gift."

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