I impatiently wait a week. I am busy with the city, with the list of crimes and investigations and the new training regime, but my mind is never far from her. I have seen her only twice, both times from afar as she successfully manages to evade me each time.

I've sent her gifts. A necklace, a bracelet, a box of sweets, normal shit that my Recondites tell me females enjoy getting. She returned all but the sweets. So I keep sending those.

Unfortunately for the safety and security of the city, my brethren never asked me if planning was my strength. It's not.

So, it's a simple plan. Straightforward. Basically, I will enter the death temple and find my Sprite's rooms and wait for her there.

I suffer no guilt from committing a crime while the hawk tattoo sits on my throat for the entire city to see. I'm fucking desparate.

The first piece of my plan to capture my Fated falls into place as I knew it would. I stroll into the garden of the Temple of Nateos with confidence. I usually don't do simple patrol duty. As Captain I have had more serious, stressful duties.

I mumble some excuse to the two young recruits who normally do this patrol. "I will be taking this patrol. Investigation. More instruction later." They gaze back at me, uncertainty in their faces.

My brother in arms 'rescues' me from their regard. Belen, who won't stay at our barracks because he's determined to be a boil on my ass, grins madly at the two Recondites. Clapping them on the shoulders he practically shouts, "can't you see the male needs to go a'courtin?"

"Shut up, Bel," I mumble.

Astonishment lights the two recruits faces, before all three of them dissolve into laughter.

"Get lost," I growl. Pushing past them, I studiously avoid meeting their gazes. I imagine that by the time I return to the barracks every Recondite recruit and warrior will know all about Belen's joke. Gods, even the prostitutes and servants will know.

I push into the Temple proper, happy when the solid doors block out the chuckling idiots in the garden.

I heave out a breath. Well, that could have been worse, I suppose. Now, I just need to find my female's rooms and no amount of ribbing from my brother will stop me.

I walk in the general direction of the private temple. Recondites do not enter the sacred sites, but the hallways and private rooms of the priests are not off limits to us. Convenient, because eventually my sprite will have to join me in her rooms.

I follow the pull, the scent of her, into the catacombs. Interesting choice for rooms, my love. I know it's wrong, but I enter my female's private space, happy to not scent any male in her suite. There is no male in her life of any significance according to the gossip in the city. I don't give two fucks if she is or isn't virginal, but I would kill any male who tried to claim her as his.

A cold locker near a table, filled with half-melted ice, keeps a flagon of wine, a bite of cheese, and some pomegranates chilled for her. Good, she does not go hungry. I smile to myself, her generous curves told me that, but a male must make sure his female is safe and cared for, even if she is as precious and powerful as my sprite. Especially if she is my sprite.

I sneak the necklace and bracelet onto one of the shelves. I can be stubborn, too, sweet sprite, I smile to myself. I put the new box of sweets on her table.

I move out of the living quarters and into her bedroom. The soft grey blanket that the market lady claims matches my eyes perfectly I spread over her bed. Her clothes are tucked neatly in her wardrobe. On the floor near her bed is a soft woven rug. I'm glad that her feet are not cold first thing in the morning. She likes to read and sew, I see. A pile of darned male's socks lie in a basket near the rocking chair that smells strongly of her. I scowl, kicking the basket. Picking up the topmost socks I'm glad that they scent of one of the elder priests... the skinny, feminine one. I'm still a jealous bastard, but these old males are like her uncles, I imagine.

Turning away from the offending pile of socks I spot another basket. Wandering over I peer inside to see... grey rocks.

I blink, kneeling and getting closer. Definitely a pile of rocks, but with odd hairs sticking up in places. I can't figure it out. "What in the name of all the gods' is this?" I say out loud.

I poke the rocks with my finger, surprised that it is warm. Maybe they are for warming her feet? But why so misshapen?

I stand, totally unprepared for the hissing noise that emerges from the basket. In the next instant my hands go flying south to cover my jewels from the raging, spitting beastie that hurls itself out of the basket with tooth and claw aimed right between my legs.

"Fuck it all!" I bellow into the room as tiny daggers, sharp as blades and nearly a half-length of my own fingers, sink into the sensitive flesh of my thighs and the backs of my (thankfully) gloved hands.

I want to stab the thing, but now I recognize the damn thing as the little pet my sprite has following her about the temple. Ugly, little thing, I have apparently offended it judging by the determination it has to unmale me permanently.

"Get off, you little shit," I peel one clawed hand away, but there are three others still sunk into my flesh. Inanely, I try bargaining with the damn thing, "I'll get you mice if you let go of me. Do you like mice? What is your name again? Momi? Mimi?"

It stops clawing at me, but doesn't let go, to peer up at me with what I swear to the gods is a disdainful, mistrustful look. Then it howls like a deranged street cat and starts to climb towards my face.

"Fuck!" His daggers sink into every available piece of flesh it can reach past my leathers. I can't kill the damn thing, but it's starting to look tempting to just grab it's tail and bash its head into the wall.

I'm about to do it when I hear her voice, "Mushu!"

"Mushu, that's your name, you little shit! Get off!"

"Don't call him that!" my sprite snaps at me, but then she's in front of me, close enough to touch, and all I see and hear and smell is her.

"Mushu, let go right now. Mushu," she warns.

"You're going to make a wonderful mother," I rasp out like a lovelorn fool.

She tosses me a glare, but quickly returns her attention to the little imp cackling and clacking at her.

"Mushu, what are you thinking?" she scolds. He finally lets go, finding a better place to be curled up - in my fated arms. With a mocking grin at me he shoves his ugly face into the soft material of her dress just above her breasts.

"Bastard," I mumble.

"What are you doing here? In my private rooms? Bothering my gargoyle?"

"Is that what that beastie is?" I grin at her, ignoring the obvious frustration on her beautiful face.

She looks worried suddenly, "yes, and he... you... you can't touch him," she bites her lip.

I can't stop myself from touching her, softly running my thumb across her lower lip. "Don't bite," I murmur.

The hiss reminds me of her gargoyle's presence. "Shut up," I snap at it.

"Stop it!" my sprite snaps back.

I can't stop my smile from spreading again. I don't think I've smiled this much in my short memories. Mushu hisses again and she bops him on the nose gently, "no Mushu. You can see him?" she blurts out suddenly.

"Ah, Sprite," I ask her, wondering at the oddity of her question, "he nearly ended my ability to gift you with children. Hard to miss him, really."

Her face turns bright red. Fascinated, I reach out to touch her cheek. What a gorgeous color on her fair skin. "Will all of your porcelain skin blush for me?" I ask huskily.

Both she and the tail of her varmint smack my hand away. "Ouch," I grin again, shaking out the stinging feeling. I think the gargoyle's tail is barbed.

"You're touched in the head," she mutters.

My smile falls. "I will not lie to you, sprite. I am a hard male, a Recondite, a Captain. I have no memories of a life before this one, so it may not be easy to love me, but I will earn your love, anyway. This I swear to you."

She looks completely flabbergasted, her face losing all the pretty color at once.

"Sprite?" I reach out to her, afraid she about to pass out unconscious right in front of me. This time there is no slap, but she does step back, recovering herself.

Clearing her throat delicately she nods, "I see. Well, you seem... fine, now. Fine," her eyes dart over my form. They linger at the skin I know is revealed by her beastie's claws. I hold back my grin at the interest in her eyes. My sprite is a creature of fire, after all.

"Fine," she says again, nodding, "s-so, I think that you should leave. Go, um, go attend your duties."

I try to affect a pout. Not sure if it works, judging by the skeptical look on her face. "But I have been injured by your pet, sprite. Surely you won't send me off without taking a look?" I wink at her open-mouthed look of astonishment as I indicate my torn legs.

Color blooms again in her cheeks. "Out!" she shouts at me, shooing me toward her door.

I hold up my hands. "Sorry, sprite! Not yet, then? Soon?" I ask, backing out of the door.

She makes a sound of rage as she slams her door shut in my face. I laugh at the gargoyle, sticking his tongue out at me just before the door closes.

Still grinning, I stare at the closed door, picturing the fury my little sprite is probably feeling right now.

At least she saw me this time. Maybe this interaction was purely childish of me, but I think I'm beginning to feel sympathy for the little males who torment the ladies of their affection on the playground. Who wants to be ignored by their female?

Whistling, I turn and walk down the corridor. I am supposed to be patrolling. Not that I know where the regular patrol goes, exactly, but I have all night to figure it out.

I see her pet twenty minutes later, glaring at me from his perch in a stone cornice of the temple. "Were you grey before?" I ask it, absentmindedly. He hisses at me, fluffing what looks like brown pebbles as he moves out of the shadows into the light.

"Gods, there's more than one of you," I sigh. Mentally, I calculate how many treats I will have to bring with me next time. I have no desire to wrestle her pets every time I go near her.

---

I bury my face in Mushu's granite-like skin. My laughter is muffled in him.

No. I will not be amused by Thelios. Absolutely not.

My father is still chuckling long after my own smile fades. But, even the god's laughter stops when my tears start. They slid right off of Mushu, dripping onto the floor as he clucks in sympathy, his tiny hands patting my wet cheeks gently. My self-pity only lasts a moment as I turn the conversation I just had over and over in my head.

"Did you hear him, Moosh?" I whisper softly. "He said he has no memories. He calls himself Thelios with such... conviction. Gods, I think... I think someone, one of the gods, took his memories." I sink to the floor, petting Mushu absently. "He doesn't remember. He doesn't remember anything." I look into my gargoyle's orange, glowing eyes. "He doesn't remember me."

"His tattoos. They're the same as some of those drawings on the scrolls in the library. Remember? The... um... oh, what was it? A gano lizard? It spits poison and has a barbed tail, I think. Thelios has one on his arm."

Interesting is he not?

I do not need my father's input. Whatever happened to him not wanting any male to flirt with me?

Mushu wiggles out of my arms and walks to the table. Leaping on top, he opens the box of sweets and starts to devour them.

"You'll make yourself sick, Moosh. Again."

He just tosses me a disdainful look.

"You're not concerned at all that he can see you?"

Mushu looks at me, cheeks bulging with treats. He points to his chest, then shrugs. "Save some for your brothers." He scowls, gathering the box closer to his chest.

Momo chooses that moment to scamper over. They immediately start to squabble like children over the last few treats.

"Share, Moosh."

The scream catches me by surprise. It's been over a month since I last heard a cry as sharp and painful as this.

No! Why? Lady help me!

I rush out of my rooms. The cycle of grief doesn't end just because I have a stubborn, too-muscled, ridiculously attractive male chasing after me.

---

"Let me down and I will show you how a warrior fights," I sneer through my broken jaw. I tug, futilely, on the chains around my wrists dangling above my head.

The male, Patriarch Rimon, laughs croakily. "Are you threatening an old male, Lord Thane?" he asks me. He smiles. There is no threat, no smug amusement, no sarcasm, in his voice or manner. But then, he doesn't need to be arrogant, does he?

I walked here, through the desert sands, for a lifetime. All the while I felt them at my back, my warriors, following me into death just as I feared. When we reached the Crone River I knew we had been walking to our deaths. I don't remember anything of my death. Just the voice of the undead... then the unending desert.

But it did end, and I was apprehended and chained in this Underworld dungeon. Now my world is muted grey, pain and despair, but I'm still here. And one day...

"You are not Patriarch Rimon. You are... some sort of demon, some sort of Underworld dog sent to torment me."

"Ah, interesting observation," he says wryly, finally a little sarcasm slipping into his tone.

"Why not let me go? What is the purpose of this?" I ask.

A raking pain streaks through my body. I howl in pain, fighting the dizziness of this new injury. "Why is this happening again?" I gasp.

"The Lady Grief has healed an injury to a soul. And now her pain is yours."

"Who? Why the fuck is this bitch affecting me? Is this my eternal punishment?" I rasp out.

He sighs, like my father used to when I got a lesson wrong. I have been asking and asking, it seems like an eternity of my asking and this mirage of Patriarch Rimon tsking at my efforts.

"Please, Patriarch, tell me where my Fated is," I beg. This is the other topic of 'conversation' we have, him and I. My Parijan is here, somewhere in the Underworld. She will be in the fields of peace, nothing like this wretched pit. My innocent princess will have nothing but a glorious afterlife... but she's close. She must be close.

"If I could just see her," I whisper.

The clanging of swords drowns out my voice. The Patriarch moves past my line of vision towards the seven males that I am quickly coming to hate. Putrifying, unfair, loathing... because they are free of chains while I am not.

Gray is the first to come swinging back into my line of sight. Carnak is quick to follow, on the offensive. Carnak is a wolf, entirely shifted into a monstrous beast of fur and teeth. Gray is entirely different, a demon of stone. Fitting name, ay? I never knew what the male could shift into. We were so concerned during our lives to keep our beasts suppressed; look at us now.

Dark gray scales, muted in the dim light of the Underworld. Gray's skin is pulled tight over his body. His tail is a wicked thing, barbed on the end and whip-thin. His fangs curl over his bottom lip, frightening, but not the most effective canines. No, Carnak has the advantage there with incisors the length of my finger. Gray, despite the obvious advantage of being armed with the black blade, can't seem to reach Carnak through the thick wolf fur.

Here, in Death's kingdom, we can shift, Change entirely, without losing any part of ourselves.

Correction - they can shift, the males I unknowingly damned at my side - I am stuck here, hanging like a stinky carcass on a meat hook.

"How long did your Fated dangle in those chains, Thane?" Patriarch Rimon asks me.

I renew my struggles. "She's here. She's not in any pain, old male. She's happy. My Fated is safe and happy here."

My demon lurches with me, both of us straining helplessly to hurt this male who taunts us.

"Is she?" Patriarch Rimon shakes his head and walks away.

"I know she is!" I shout after him. She must be. Not even the god Nateos could be so cruel as to take her innocent heart and damn her here, too.

My attention shifts suddenly to the dark male across the cavernous pit. I snarl wordlessly. I know my hatred shows on my face.

Lier. The Captain of the Recondites. The male who is training my warriors in the Afterlife. I want to kill him... again. I want to kill him again.

He smirks at me. Then, he ignores my presence as if I don't matter to him at all.

One day I will be free of these chains, then I will make sure he knows who these warriors follow.