Monday Maunderings.

[agilebrit]

Something horrible has happened to Ange. She has a ... unique way of dealing with it:

"You want to chase me around the room, catch me, and hold me down while you bite me."

"Basically. But you're allowed to make it difficult." She tried a smile. It felt lopsided. "The longer the chase, the sweeter the blood."

He swallowed, and she wondered what was going through his mind. "It's what you need?"

"'Need' is a strong word." She gave a tiny shrug. "It's a way I have of dealing. It helps."

"Then yes," he said instantly. "Yes, to all of it."

She crushed him to her. "Are you sure?"

His answer was slightly strangled. "As long as you let me breathe, yeah. Are there rules?"

"Only the ones you impose on yourself."

"Well, then." He twisted out of her arms and rolled off the bed. "Catch me if you can."

She'd give him this much--he made her work for it. He was fast and agile and sneaky, slippery as a bloody weasel, and just when she thought she had him, he'd pull some move that let him slither loose. He wasn't afraid of her nails, either, which left long scratches on him more than once. He'd not forgotten his Army training, and working for a private detective had only honed his skills.

She was stronger and faster than he was, though, and she finally tossed him face-first onto the bed. Before he could use the momentum to get more than halfway up, she landed on his back and captured his wrists, pinning them to either side of his head with more force than was strictly necessary. "Gotcha," she breathed into his ear.

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