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"That's great news!" Alt smiled when Calsa told him about her mother being alive. Her eyes shined with joy and hope. "And now that the Torak Lakus are here, they will help reunite you. But don't let it make you lose sight of passing the final ritual."

"Are you kidding? Imagine how pleased she would be if I told her I was the first female Ha'trin in over a thousand years! I'm more determined now than ever!" Calsa grinned, overjoyed.

"Good. Now try to get some sleep. Tomorrow, we head back home. We have to tell Sanlis of our success. In a few days after we get home, we'll be contacting the others who do not live at the village, get them all organized and ready to coordinate attacks with the Torak Lakus. And maybe, in a few weeks, you can take the final ritual." He laid back into the cot.

Calsa stared at him in surprise. "You... you think I'm ready?"

"As ready as you'll ever be. You've trained hard. And you've proven yourself in this trip." He turned onto his side, facing the wall. "But I am tired. Getting ones face crushed by a giant gun wielding lizard isn't a relaxing experience. Good night."

Sitting back onto her cot, Calsa could barely contain herself. She would take the final ritual. It was very secret thing; it was never the same for any two people. It was designed individually to test each student, make sure they could handle themselves in true combat. It was possible to die in the final ritual. But for those who survived, they were stripped of their inherent magic, making them immune to the power of the Ha'tinre and any other magic wielder.

Calsa didn't know how long, or even if she really slept. Her mind was such abuzz. She followed Alt as he and Barkley finished discussing the plans for the war. Alt was given a small radio, one with a crypted frequency so that when the time came to start moving, the message could be sent without prying ears. When they emerged from the underground hideout, it was still dark, though the sky was starting to grey with the morning. They wanted to leave before the Templiks in the outpost began their duties. As they had discovered, the captain of the outpost guards was already dead, replaced effortlessly by a shadowshifter. As Barkley had said, "These shifters are experts at making themselves one of any creature they take the form of, blending effortlessly in with any society, any type of work, and any personalty they need to."

"Their organization is very impressive," Alt stated as they headed out of the small outpost. "It's hard to imagine that the Reds can even hold their own against them."

Calsa said nothing, the thought of seeing her mother again, hopefully soon, still on her mind. Alt spurred Marm into a swift trot, hoping to get home as soon as they could. The trip home was like a blur in Calsa's mind. She hardly paid any attention to what was going on. When Alt gave her food, she didn't taste it, barely slept. All she could think about was that there was the hope of seeing her mother again. That thought burned so brightly in her thoughts that she almost didn't even comprehend Alt saying he could feel something nearby, something menacing.

Only then did Calsa snap out of her trance. She glanced around, realizing that her instincts were tingling. Alt's hand slipped under his shirt where the pistol had been all along. His eyes darted about. Calsa whispered to him across the fire, "What...?"

Alt's hand came up, cutting her question off. The hiss of a blade was not lost on him though Calsa heard it only when she looked back on the event that was unfolding. A thin blade flashed in the fire light, Alt falling back onto his back to avoid it. He continued his momentum, flipping over, his legs out straight to make contact with the black clothed figure behind him. The man grunted as he fell back, Alt quickly gaining his feet. But that was no use.

An arm slipped around Calsa's throat, drawing her against a powerful body. She let out a quick scream before a hand was clamped against her mouth, holding her jaw shut. She squirmed and struggled, trying to get out of the person's grasp, but he was too powerful. She heard several more people hurrying into the fray, Alt snarling as he pulled out his pistol only to have his arms grabbed and held immobile. The men holding Alt managed to force him to his stomach, using their knees against his spine to keep him subdued.

At last, one of the men came into the firelight, his faint glowing green eyes making Calsa's heart pound. The Ha'tinre looked down at Alt. "To think we just happen to cross paths, my dear Ha'trin." Then those glowing eyes flicked to Calsa. The evil in there sent a shiver down her spine. "And you have an apprentice. A bit young to be out in the field with you. You Ha'trin like to keep your young out of harms way, where they can stay weak and ignorant." The Ha'tinre walked up to Calsa, peering down at her. He smiled behind the face wrapping. "I see this one is not so well trained. Hatred burns in his heart. I think he'd make a far better Ha'tinre."

Calsa jerked, trying to wrench free of the one holding her, growling in anger. But her efforts meerly made the obvious leader of them laugh. He then turned and looked back down to Alt. "It is, however, not our custom to kill the young. You, however, Ha'trin, are a different story."

"Since when do the Ha'tinre have any sense of honor or mercy?" Alt rumbled out from his position on the ground.

The Ha'tinre squatted down to Alt. He gestured to his kin to let Alt up to his knees. Alt glared at the Ha'tinre in those glowing eyes. It was then that the Ha'tinre leader leaned forward, speaking softly in Alt's ear. "Since the Clan of the Plains could ever remember."

Alt jerked back, looking at the man with surprise. "I thought the clan was dead."

"Not quite. What you see is all that is left. And best no one know. If we were any other clan, you would be dead. But after our 'brethren' tried to eradicate us, we got rather good at being out of sight, and out of mind. Time for hiding is past, though. You obviously know whether the rumors have more validity than we. We cannot hide amongst the masses like you, Ha'trin." The Ha'tinre was making an obvious effort to be diplomatic. Normally, his kind would kill any they had the fancy to kill, and Ha'trin were their favorite, but this clan was about just as hunted as their enemy.

"You want to know if the Torak Lakus are here?" Alt sneered. "What makes you think I have any inclination to tell you?"

The look of murder in the Ha'tinre's eyes almost made Alt regret his words. The man hissed out his next words as if trying with more effort than he ever had before to keep from slitting Alt's throat. "Because we do not ask where they are, only that they are here." And then as if he couldn't hold it back, he added, "And because I can kill you and ask your little apprentice here."

Alt let out a breath. He made himself calm, thinking about the options. It was obvious these Ha'tinre were after something other than the lives of a pair of Ha'trin. They knew nothing of true diplomacy, only the agent of fear. But for many years the Clan of the Plains had been peaceful, building their numbers, even refusing to take jobs that would mean they had to attack the Ha'trin on the planet. In a desperate attempt to keep the Templiks off their world, the clan had practically sacrificed itself to the far larger Ha'tinre clans, trying to appease them and prevent their coming.

Finally, Alt sighed. "For the sake of our histories, I will tell you they are here. We are in the service of the Torak Lakus. They have agents everywhere. They are well organized and well armed."

The Ha'tinre let out a breath. "So it is true. They have Shadowshifters among them?"

"Yes."

The Ha'tinre pulled a slip of paper from his sash, tucking it into Alt's shirt. "This is for them. Should you find them again, I think it will help them. I do not like our brethren on this world. I would rather them take their war elsewhere." He then stood, looking down at Alt. "And remember, Ha'trin, we could have killed you. You owe us."

********************************************************************************

Calsa groaned, the sunlight piercing her eyelids. She held up her hand to shade her eyes as they squinted open. She sat up, groaning again. The side of her head pounded. Then the events of the night flooded her and she glanced about rapidly, noticing Alt laying on his stomach in the leaves. She scrambled to her feet, kneeling beside him. "Master Alt? Master Alt?" She shook him. When he didn't respond, a spike of panic raced through her. "Alt? Please wake up! Alt?"

"That's 'Master Alt' to you." Slowly, he got up, sitting back on his ankles. He coughed, his throat dry from having had his face in the leaves all night. He looked around, finding his water canteen and gulping it down. Finally, when the bottle was empty, he looked to Calsa. "Are you alright?"

She looked around in suspicion. "Just a headache."

Alt grabbed her by the chin and turned her head, making her allow him to examine where the Ha'tinre had struck her. "Interesting they didn't just put you to sleep. They knew you hadn't gone through the ritual yet, you're still suseptible to their magic." He let out a sigh. "They must have some strong self honor code, treating you as a true Ha'trin rather than a normal person." Then Alt felt at his chest, reaching into his shirt to pull out the slip of paper the Ha'tinre had left him. He unfolded the paper, his brow furrowing. "What is this?"

Calsa peered at it. It was a crudely drawn device, with notes scribbled around it. It seemed as though whoever made this had been in a hurry. Alt turned the paper this way and that, trying to figure out what it was he looked at. Then he saw a few words that caught his eye. "Cal... I think... I think this is the device that the Templiks are using to make Shadowshifters solid!"

Calsa looked up at him. "Really? They would give anything to get their hands on this! That device is killing them!"

"Indeed." He quickly folded it back up, tucking it into a small pocket in his shirt, his eyes darting about. He noticed their weapons had been left behind. "The Clan of the Plains is as close to a fair and kind clan as the Ha'tinre can get," he muttered as he stood and picked up his pistol, tucking it away. He still glanced about cautiously.

Helping Calsa to her feet, Alt checked Marm over. He then covered the cold ashes of their fire. "We better get home now. The Ha'tinre were extremely uptight; I could see a couple in the trees, keeping a look out. They know they're being hunted, which means we're on the radar of whoever is after them. We need to be long gone from here in case the hunters are not far behind." He swung up onto Marm's back, hauling Calsa up behind him.

She slipped her arms around his waist as Alt dug his ankles into her side. With a grunt of protest, Marm took off in a gallop, all six legs extending gracefully in massive bounding strides. She covered the distance home in only a couple of hours.

As they rushed into town, Alt just barely slowed Marm long enough to call to the guards in the trees. "Sharp eyes, brothers, we may be followed!" He spurred Marm back to full gallop, finally pulling her to a sudden stop before the longhouse. Marm let out an angry caw, shuddering and snorting as she stood still while Alt hopped off her to hurry in. The quicker he could tell Sanlis, the better. Calsa held her reins as she, too, dismounted, offering them to another Ha'trin who had come forward to find out what was going on. He raised a brow, but took the reins without hesitation.

"What?" Calsa heard Sanlis exclaim as she rushed into the longhouse. "Quickly, then, we must get everyone ready. Who knows what manner of life might have been sent after the Clan of the Plains. Obviously, they took massive risk to get this, it is only fair we take the heat off them. Where is your apprentice?"

"Here!" Calsa came forward.

"Tell me, Cal, what happened?" As he spoke, he nodded to Alt, dismissing him to get the town ready for a possible attack.

"Well, sir, we found out the Torak Lakus has a few Alliance aliens among them. We met a few of them. And they have many Shadowshifters on their side. They've already killed and replaced several commanders and other high level officials." She fidgetted a bit which was not lost on Sanlis.

"Anything else?"

"Well, one of the Shadowshifters, I knew him when I was on the streets. He's with them."

Sanlis nodded slowly. "At least you know someone among them." He then patted Calsa on the shoulder. "You did well. Alt was smart to chose you as his apprentice."

Calsa smiled. "Thank you, sir."

"Now go, help Alt with the preparations. If indeed someone was chasing the Clan of the Plains, they will find out very quickly that the paperwork was handed off."

Calsa nodded and quickly slipped out of Sanlis' office, hurrying out to find Alt.

"Cal!"

Turning, Calsa smiled at Jerako. The boy ran up to her. "Hey, what's going on? Everyone's getting ready for battle. Were we found out? Did you get to meet the Torak Lakus?"

Calsa shrugged. "Master Alt thinks there is a threat. And yeah, we met them. They were weird and alien, nothing like us. The human thing looked similar. At first I thought he was a Ssalian." She smiled. "But that doesn't matter. I have much more interesting things to think and hope for."

"What do you mean?" Jerako followed Calsa as she went back to their house.

"I learned my mother is alive!" Calsa's voice almost strangulated itself in her excitement. "And a Shadowshifter is watching over her. I'll be able to see her soon!"

"Wow! Cal, that's amazing! You are so lucky. See, good things happen. The bad stuff is sad, but they make the good stuff so much sweeter and better." Jerako smiled at her.

As Calsa reached the door of their cabin, she stopped, her ears twitching slightly. She looked around them. "Hey, Jerako.... Do you hear that?"

"What? I just hear everyone talking and running around."

"Yeah. What happened to the birds?"

Jerako pointed up. "You mean them?"

Calsa looked up to where Jerako pointed. As she watched, the seemingly small birds circled, getting larger and larger. And then they vanished, scattering into the canopy. "That was odd," Jerako said, shrugging.

"No, that was deliberate." Calsa turned and ran toward where she could hear Alt's voice calling to his fellow Ha'trin. She came around the corner of one of the houses when a loud cawing sound stopped her dead in her tracks. From the trees around them, large dark forms dropped to the ground in a flurry of black feathers. The giant bird people tilted their heads, their bony hands pulling out long, cruelly curved and serrated weapons. With loud caws and screeches, they attacked the surprised Ha'trin.

For just a second, Calsa saw Alt through the flurry of feathers, the bird people lunging at him. "No!" Calsa cried out before a hand grabbed her around the mouth and jerked her back around the building. She was spun around to look at Jerako. He put his finger to his lips.

"What are you doing?" Calsa snarled, trying to get up once he'd let go of her mouth.

"Saving us! They don't notice us, which means we have the element of surprise! Let's go grab the others and we can attack from the flanks, they won't be expecting that!" He stood and started running away from the battle. With a scowl of contempt, Calsa quickly pushed herself up and ran after him.

Together, they burst into the student safehouse, where the apprentices knew to go if there was a threat of attack. "Guys! Grab your weapons! We gotta help them!" Jerako pushed a rug on the ground out of the way, jerking the hidden door open. Under the floorboards was hidden a stash of guns. He kneeled down, pulling them out one by one and tossing them at the other apprentices.

"What are you doing? We gotta stay in here! Let the Masters deal with it!" one of the boys yelled incredulously.

Calsa glared at him. "If we don't get out there and help then there won't be any Masters left to teach us! They're outnumbered and taken by surprise. We have a chance to even the odds. These aren't beasts of magic. Our guns will be enough to stop them!" She cocked hers, turning to head out the door.

Jerako was right behind her, placing a cartridge into the butt of the gun and cocking it. The other boys looked amongst themselves. Bezin abruptly leapt to his feet. "I'm not letting those two get away with all the glory!" He rushed out the door. In a sudden stampede, the other boys dashed after him, following Calsa and Jerako around the backs of the houses.

Reaching the longhouse where the main fighting was going on, Jerako and Calsa stopped, squatting down. They checked their weapons to ensure they wouldn't jam. Their eyes flicked up silently, knowing that they were ready. Calsa turned as the other boys quietly joined them. Using her hands, she pointed to a few of them and motioned for them to follow her. Together, they hurried around to the other side of the longhouse, making sure that they evenly flanked the intruders.

Calsa glanced back at Jerako. As one, the boys let their voices be heard, rushing forward. The bird people were startled, cawing loudly. They had managed to herd the mostly unarmed Ha'trin together, though even without weapons the Ha'trin were a handful, perfectly capable of defending themselves with their own bodies. Turning to see where this new threat was coming from, the tall, black feathered creatures squawked in pain and surprise. Sure enough, the guns were nearly completely silent with no kickback.

The Ha'trin pushed forward, grabbing the weapons out of the invaders' hands, using their own blades against them. Alt was among them, slashing out at the bird person in front of him. It cawed, flapping its arms to take off. With a growl, Alt leapt at it, wrapping his arms around the creature's neck. The bird person thrashed, shrilly screeching in surprise. Reaching up, Alt grabbed its beak, then twisted its neck. He let go of the bird person as it went ridged, falling to the ground.

Looking up, he noticed one of the bird people had taken to the air and was trying its best to make it to the clearing amongst the trees. He called to Calsa, pointing up at it. Turning, Calsa lifted her arms, laying the gun across her other arm for stability. It took less than a heartbeat after she'd pull the trigger for the bird person to flutter, falling to the ground dead.

It didn't take long for all the intruders to be slaughtered. When the battle was over, the boys held up their guns, cheering themselves. The Ha'trin laughed at their apprentices, praising them. Calsa and Jerako grinned at each other.

"Cal." She turned abruptly, looking up at Alt. He held out his hand. With a sigh, she handed him the gun. "You are insane. And you disobeyed me."

"But...." She stopped when he held up his hand.

He used that same hand to grab her head, pulling her against him suddenly, holding her close. Her eyes flicked over to Jerako. He shrugged, slowly moving away to stay out of the whole situation. Alt pulled back, looking into her eyes. "I think you're ready."

Her heart pounded in her chest, her eyes wide in disbelief. "What?"

"For your final ritual. I think you're ready. You've proven yourself time and again already. I have no doubt you can finish the final ritual." He smiled at her, patting her on the head. "Now c'mon, let's get this cleaned up. Gotta make sure none of them have a tracking device."

****************************************************************

Sanlis fixed Alt with a look that told him the old leader was not impressed with his desicion. "You said you would let her take the ritual if I felt she was ready." Alt was tense, pointing at his ex Master.

"I did. But are you sure she's ready? Remember, there is no going back once it starts. She either survives and passes or she will die. You sure you can live with yourself should the unthinkable happen?" Sanlis watched Alt's face carefully, searching for any doubt.

Alt was solid, his gaze steady. "I can because I know it won't happen. Get the area set up for her tomorrow. She'll survive. I have faith in that." With that, he turned on his heel and marched out of Sanlis' office.

******************************************************************

The morning dawned early. Calsa was dressed in loose clothes, standing before the large round house that no one ever went into, not until this moment. With a deep breath, she glanced behind her. Alt was leaned up against the corner of the nearest building, watching her intently. Building up her courage, Calsa entered the place, the door shutting behind her.

************************************************************

Alt went about his business. Whenever Calsa was done, he'd see her back at the house. He spent the rest of the day thinking about how he was going to praise Calsa for passing. Somehow, a pat on the back didn't seem adequate.

After the attack, extra guards had been pulled in from the outside, more of their brethren coming to defend their headquarters. If this place was ever found out, the last truly strong resistance against the Red Tide would be destroyed. The Torak Lakus would be alone in trying to win the war.

Alt thought about that and many other things, trying to keep himself occupied until the late afternoon. That was about average for most. He liked to imagine she'd be done faster, but he'd give her that time just so she could relax after she got finished. That's what he told himself.

Finally, the appropriate time had passed. With a deep breath, Alt headed home. He opened the door, hoping that she'd come running and hugging him, telling him she had passed the test. Instead, he was utterly surprised to find that she wasn't there. His heart skipped a few beats, making it hard for him to breathe.

Maybe she was in the bedroom sleeping?

He peered in there. The only sight to greet him were her emptied drawers. He blinked in surprise, noticing that her pack was missing. He spun on his heel, heading out of the house.

"Cal left!" a voice yelled.

Alt glanced up at Jerako as the boy ran up to him, bending over to pant. "What?"

Jerako stood up straight, pointing down the road that led out of town. "She survived the ritual, but apparently failed it!"

Alt glanced around, Jerako's use of words not lost on him. "Oh?"

Jerako shook his head. "I'm young, Master Alt, but not stupid. All the other boys don't know. But I figured it out. And I don't care. But the fact she survived but failed only makes it more obvious."

Alt frowned. "When did Cal leave?"

"Just an hour ago. I tried convincing her to come back. You might want to take a tabis. She walks really fast," he panted some more, leaning over to stretch his muscles.

Alt patted Jerako on the shoulder before jogging toward the long house. He threw the door open, marching into Sanlis' office. The old leader looked up Alt's sudden appearance.

"What the hell did you do? She survived! That means she passed! And yet you threw her out?" His fists were clenched, his jaw muscles twitching in his barely contained rage.

"Do you know why no woman has passed the final ritual in a thousand years?" Sanlis' voice was calm. He continued, knowing Alt wouldn't respond. "It's because their inherent magic can't be removed from them. If you remember from your own ritual, at the end, all your inherent magic was drained from you."

"You knew she wouldn't pass!" Alt couldn't hold his temper any longer, his lips peeled back in a feral snarl. "Why would you do that to her?"

"I did nothing. I told you not to put your faith in her," Sanlis turned away, unconcerned.

"You'll let her do it again."

"What?" Sanlis asked, not sure if he'd heard right, turning to stare incredously at Alt.

"You'll let her take it again," Alt repeated himself, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

Sanlis really didn't comprehend. He had to chuckle. "Why would I? You're lucky I'm letting her live."

"Because you owe my father your life, and I'm pulling that favor in."

Sanlis growled. "You really willing to pull that card just for a girl you found on the street?"

Alt abruptly went down on one knee, his head bowed, both hands held above his head, palms up and wrists together, a begging position. "I know she can do it. I know she can be the first. Please, Master Sanlis. Let her take the ritual again."

With a sigh, Sanlis reached down, laying his fingertips against Alt's palms. "Go get her. She has one more chance."

Alt leapt to his feet, rushing out the door. He ran to the field, finding Marm and getting her saddled as fast as he could. Swinging up into place, he spurred Marm into a trot. But once he'd cleared the trees, he kicked her into a gallop.

For the next few minutes, he was worried Calsa had moved off the road, heading off into the woods. He breathed a sigh of relief when he came around the bend and saw her walking away in the distance, her pack slung over her shoulder.

She didn't bother to turn when she heard Alt's voice calling to her. She stared ahead, continuing her steady pace. She still didn't look at Alt as he got Marm to stride beside her.

"Cal. I got Sanlis to let you try again...."

"You knew I wouldn't pass," she said, her voice cold. "I can't lose my magic, so I can't ever be a Ha'trin. You knew that. What a waste of my life."

"Is that what you think?" Alt felt oddly hollow. "You think all that time I took care of you was a waste of your life? Because I know it wasn't a waste of mine."

Calsa snorted, continuing her walk. She didn't bother to look at him. She didn't want to look at him. She might do something even more embarressing than taking a ritual she wouldn't have been able to pass anyways.

"Cal, come back with me. You can take it again. I know you'll pass this time." Alt's voice was gentle.

"You know that's a lie!" she snarled, trying to hide the fact that it hurt her.

"Calsa."

She stopped when he used her full name. He had stopped Marm a few paces behind her, looking at her, her tense body, knowing she didn't mean anything she said.

"Please, Calsa. Come back with me. Take the ritual again. It'll work this time. I just know it will."

Slowly, very slowly, Calsa turned, raising her eyes to him. He saw how much she didn't want to leave. He held out his hand for her.

**********************************************************

Alt sat on the couch. He tried closing his eyes, tried clearing his mind to meditate, keep himself calm. It didn't work. He stood up and paced around. That didn't work. He tried keeping busy. That didn't work.

He really didn't know why he was so nervous. He hadn't been this nervous for his own ritual. In fact, he couldn't remember a time he'd been this anxious. It didn't suit him, and he tried to banish the sensation. It wouldn't budge. So he stopped, studied it. It was like a knot in his stomach, a tightness in his chest. He hoped if he studied it deeply enough, with enough interest, finding where the sensation was coming from, it would go away. After a few minutes, though, he had to give up.

The minutes ticked by like eternity. He found himself unable to eat for the knot in his stomach taking up the space. So he kept pacing, trying not to look out the window to see if she was coming.

He didn't know how it had happened, but he found himself dozing on the couch. Probably his nerves draining so much from him.

He startled awake when he felt a cushion move beside him. "Cal!" He sat up, peering at her somber face. She didn't meet his gaze. He felt his heart sinking. "Cal?"

She slowly looked up at him, the tips of her mouth tugging up into a grin. She didn't have to say a thing.

Alt leapt to his feet, feeling the heavy knot in his stomach burst into elation. He drew her into his arms, hugging her in relief.

"You've gotta be the only person in history to survive the ritual twice!" he said with the same smile in his voice as was on his face.

"I told you I was tough!" she laughed.

She was surprised to find his lips against hers. For a moment, she couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He kissed her with a fierce passion, his arms wrapping around her. Without meaning to, she melted into him, finding herself reciprocating his kiss with the same vigor.

Her hands clenched on his shirt, holding him close to her. She could feel his hip press against hers, feel that he was growing hard. Without meaning to, a soft moan left her.

He abruptly stepped back, still attached to her lips. Together, they stumbled backwards. He grunted when they slammed up against the wall, missing the bedroom door entirely, though it didn't break their hold on each other, mouths still battling one another over which set of lips was the dominate. He turned them, staggering into the bedroom. Calsa gave a squeak when she felt herself falling backward onto a bed, whose didn't matter.

So lost in desire were they that they didn't even know how they were suddenly shirtless. It was then Alt pulled away, both of them dizzy and gasping for air. Calsa still wore the tight bandages that kept her breasts flattened. Alt's eyes rested on them hungrily. For so long he had wanted to see them bare before him, arching, perked, to his touch.

Calsa moved to unwrap the long piece of cloth, but there was a knife in Alt's hand. She lay back as he cut it from her, smiling as the fabric made a saitisfying ripping sound. "You won't ever need this again," he growled in arousal.

Her back arched up at his touch. So long she had longed, ached, to feel his rough hands cupping her small perked breasts. She moaned, a long, deep moan, when his teeth bit down on the top of her breast. Her hips grinded, her pants getting wet. Alt growled deeply like an animal, his hand reaching down to cup her gender, his thumb rubbing her hot slit through the cloth while his teeth nipped and bit over her chest, her shoulders, her throat. She leaned her head back, leaving herself open to him. He tenderly kissed the pulse that pounded next to her trachea.

Again he leaned over her, his lips fierce and punishing, almost making her melt under his dominance. But she was stubborn, intended to make him work for her submission. He knew her thought as if he could hear it, and it made him pulse hotly against his suddenly tight pants, the pressure in his groin an ache that could only be soothed in the heat of her body.

With an impatient snarl, he pulled her pants off her, throwing it across the room as if he never intended for her to ever wear clothing again. When her hands reached down to unbuckle his pants, he let out a sound of dominance that made Calsa quiver all over, letting out a moan though he didn't even touch her. He kicked off the offending clothing, grabbing Calsa's thin wrists, wrenching them above her head.

She squirmed, daring to growl back at him. It turned into a deep moan when he bit a tight little nipple in punishment. He put his knees between her thighs, jerking her effortlessly so that her rump rested on the very edge of the bed, her thighs spread wide around his hips, helpless, at his mercy.

She whimpered, feeling the engorged head of his member run up and down her burning, dripping opening, teasing her. He was going to make her submit, make her his forever, claim her as an animal claimed his mate.

With his feet on the ground, one hand holding her wriggling wrists over her head, the other raked his nails along her side, leaving red marks, trembling when he heard her wanton moan. He ran his hot tongue up her quivering, lean belly, feeling her whole body writhe under him.

Finally, unable to hold back any longer, Calsa's hip jerked against Alt's member, desperate to be filled. "Oh, Master Alt," she moaned, panting uncontrollably. Her back arched to the touch of his nails over her ribs.

It was what he was waiting for, the sensation of her body melting, relaxing, responding instinctually to his dominance. He pressed his length against her slit, feeling the muscles relax to let him slide into her heat. She let out a loud cry of ecstasy, her body writhing under him as he stretched her. It'd been so long. It was the most exquiste sensation, eliciting a shudder from both of them.

Groaning darkly, Alt wasted no time with setting a pace, his thrusts sharp and purposeful, leaving her breathless, lost in the spell the friction between their bodies created. She felt like she was drowning in the intense pleasure, every one of his cruel bites making her whole body gyrate and squirm. The sounds that came from her were uncontainable. She howled, moaned, sobbed, and whimpered like an animal, nothing but instinct in the place of logic.

He grunted and groaned and growled, his nails digging into her flesh. He finally released her wrists, both his hands taking advantage of her body, a hand cupping and squeezing a breast like he couldn't get enough of her flesh in his hands, the other slipping under her lower back and pulling her up higher to get deeper still into her with each powerful thrust.

He snarled, his teeth bared, when he felt her nails rake against his back, digging deep. Her thighs clenched tightly around his hips, making sure he slid his full length into her with each thrust. He could feel her body grow even hotter, her pale skin flushing brightly as climax ripped through every nerve in her body, violent shudders leaving her weak in the wake of their intensity. Her throat was hoarse from the sounds that exploded from her, her whole body clenching around Alt, her fingers curling like talons against his back. Even her toes curled and quivered.

Growling, Alt couldn't hold himself back. The tightness of her, the heat of her, the smell of her, sent his mind into a void, nothing but the hot pulsing sensation through his length. His head swelled deep inside her, not allowing him to withdraw even if he wanted to.

They were both panting, sweat making them slick. Alt had to blink it from his eyes as his mind slowly returned to his control. Calsa wiggled under him, letting out a whimper. Her eyes could barely stay open. A soft smile tugged the corners of his lips, his finger tips lightly caressing her flushed cheeks. It was a characteristic of their species. The female would usually fall asleep after climax, ensuring she stayed in one place for the male, particularly when they were tied.

"I've been waiting so long to see that look on your face," he rumbled huskily.

Calsa whimpered again, squirming. She smiled up at him, blinking lazily. "Wasn't that great...."

Alt growled, nipping her throat, making her giggle.

He used his strength to lift her a bit, getting himself on the bed so they could lay together until his body released hers. She curled up against him, feeling his arms hold her close as sleep took her.