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Author's Note: I had to do a few major revisions with this chapter. I personally don't think much of it, save the fact you (the reader) get to see some things build up even more. Yes, before you know it, this simple romance will turn out to be much, much more. On another note, excuse the last update; it was loaded with all sorts of errors that randomly incorporated themselves into the story. Hopefully this will turn out better. Now then, keep reading, my few loyal fans, and thee shall be rewarded!

Enjoy it now, ya' hear? :D

-The Artificial Harmony-

Morning arrived with a perfect rising sun, a fiery orb that lit the entire ocean as a cyan lamp, timid trims of teal riddling its edges. Malic, surprisingly enough, was the first to get up (so as to prevent Sapphire from making breakfast), calling in a recommended special, while giving himself a clean shave and shower. Hence this had been done, he eagerly went to his morning food and dug into it with a hasty greed, the night leaving him with an apparent emptiness in the stomach. As for his maidservant, Sapphire awoke at precisely 8:30, some strange type of organic clock that was as prevalent as instinct. She rose, groomed and cleaned herself, and clothed.This time, however, she was not in a maid uniform, but something more casual, befitting to her time off... and form, so it seemed.

A pair of darkly colored stockings drew over her legs, with a set of polished and shining stilettos, while she wore a short, red skirt, combined with a scarlet tank top that was cut above her stomach. As graceful as midnight pools slumbering peacefully in type of frozen perfection, she left her room, the scent of a warm breakfast intruding upon her nostrils in the main room. When Malic saw her, his eyebrows raised and eyes widened. It was the first time she used something for the identity of herself, and, as usual, it appeared a tad... exposing.

"Morning Sapphire. You look... stunning, to say the least. The red really compliments your, erm, uh, eyes." he offered, recovering from a near blurt out. Sapphire bowed her head in thanks (she would curtsy, though the skirt wasn't wide enough).

"My outfit pleases you, master?" came a rather rhetorical question, while Malic nodded, mouth stuffed with a steaming pile of eggs.

"Oh yah, y' lok gret" he said, muffled by the layers of food. Sapphire beamed with a sense of pride, and sat down next to Malic at the table, very efficiently fixing herself a meal, although there were snippets of a picky appetite in place. If he looked rather closely, Malic would be able to see the hint of disdain in Sapphire's eyes, her mind pointing out all the flaws of the breakfast "special". She would have been a five-star restaurant's critical nightmare.

When Malic had finished the last of his food, he loaded the dishwasher and scoured for the morning paper, which was left on the table. Sapphire, in her long months with him, noted this habit, or perhaps, hobby. His rituals always remained the same, a well oiled machine running smoothly all the time, like a gear. A gear and a cog. The morning paper, work from Asylum Majestic, and so on. And yet, through all that, he still thought of her, in dreams or in days, a flattering notion to be sure. She could not help it, but, she was growing very attached to him, and not by the tie of master and slave.

"It's an obviously gorgeous day outside, be a shame to waste it up here," he had suddenly stated amidst a face buried in newspaper. "I think we ought to go down to the beach for a few hours, nice way to enjoy the sun," the noblemen had stated a while later, when the time had reached around 10:15. Though, he knew himself this to be a command, one that was going to be there anyway. He could have asked Sapphire what she wanted, but he knew her feathery voice would only say the same thing: "whatever pleases my master." He regretted having to do so, but then again, she probably wanted to see the ocean in the first place. Come to think of it, Sapphire most likely had never even swam in a pool, much less the sea itself.

"It sounds delightful, master. Shall I gather our things?" her voice responded from the edge of the room couch, her hands putting down an old book (she'd taken quite a fancy to reading during her time with the Irish noblemen). The Majestic heir shrugged.

"Go ahead and get your things. I'll go get the towels and sun block and stuff. They have pre-set seats down there, so don't worry about an umbrella," he said, instinctually checking his watch for the time. For some reason, he felt he missed the Omni-Clock.

With a slight curtsy (one that revealed too much, the noblemen catching sight of her undergarments), the rabbit girl set to her task, Malic doing the same, somewhat bashfully putting on a generic pair of black swimming trunks, a white t-shirt, and flip flops, along with his sunglasses, sun block and so on. In his room, he gave a long, ponderous stare at the reflection of his body. Even though no one was there, the noblemen felt a little hot in the cheeks. He hadn't been much of an outside person, so his skin had paled too much, and his frame was out of shape, not fat at all, but not toned or very muscular. Average. An average man with a lot of money. Sensations of shame coursed through his dulled veins. Impulses of disgust racking at his thoughts, he left his quarters for Sapphire, disappointed by himself.

As he waited in the living room, Sapphire soon emerged, wearing basically the same outfit, except with satin strings noticeable at the shoulders, the sign she had on a bathing suit under her casual clothes. That, and a slender pair of flip flops. Softly, the rabbit hybrid took a pause to notice her master's form, the underexposed skin and lack of effort and workouts. It gave her an inner giggle; it was as though he needed to have someone taking care of him. A cute little boy with upper-class manners. Adorable. In retrospect, her flesh and composition was, interestingly enough, far superior to Malic's, sculpted with such intimate knowledge of symmetrical genetics she was the ideal and essence of a desired woman. Quicker, stronger, healthier, the pinnacle of renowned breeding. Another internal giggle.

They both then left the hotel room, down the same elevator, but this time to a floor that had a small syntax labeled on the button, with the word 'beach' on it. For convenience, the people at Paradise Momentum designed it so that their patrons wouldn't have to wander the resort in their swim clothes. It looked awfully... tacky, when men dressed in refined garments stood next to men without shirts on. Idle twisting dreams, like lost unthinking streams.

When they finally arrived, like skittering sand crabs, both were in awe at the sight of the beach, a beautiful line of pure white sand stretching to the blue-green waters, lulling and hushing noisy winds. Their exiting of the actual structure that was Paradise Momentum made an incredible transition from machine to nature. The sound was calming, in the midst of all of it, seagulls soaring through the net of the sky, people laughing and talking as they strolled on the beach, ocean waves crashing to moist ground, boats far out in water roaring by with crowds of citizens on it. The breath of God, the breathing, the beating, the mirror of the earth's heart, a diamond glass view to the soul of an infinite maternal creation. A very profound sensation, to be certain.

Sapphire was short of breath, gleams of wonder rolling through her eyes. She had never witnessed such a thing in her life, never knew the beauty the world could create, naturally, not artificially, and also felt as though a grace befell her, a rare opportunity for a servant, a slave. Senses of all kinds drenched her, the warmth of sunlight dousing her fur, the ambrosia of salt water wafting in clean air, the gentle touch of infinite sand grasping about her feet, over and through the flip-flops. Brashly, she kissed Malic on the cheek, without really thinking. Without really caring, actually. Sparks of her nerves exploded wildly, and little pops of giddy tingles wriggled beneath her skin and fur, for the feral side now sought to rejoin with nature, grasp hands with creation.

Malic himself was pleased as well. He liked the beach, a nice change in the stifling life of higher class prerequisites, and the fact his perky maid was happy. For once, neither had to do any work, just relax, enjoy a luxury, taste the fruit of life, so to speak. Paradise Momentum indeed.

They picked a spot not too far from the beach, a reclined locale on a sand hill with a pre-planted umbrella and chairs. Granted, this wasn't necessarily a reserved spot for them, but, who cared? They were on vacation.

Malic took a long gaze at the water, wondering if he should just jump right in or get a tan. Both seemed fitting, one to get him in shape, the other to work on his skin. Removing his sunglasses, Malic tossed off his shirt and beach-sandals, rummaging around the pile of items which contained the sun-block. Training taking over, Sapphire sought out the situation herself. Or was it desire?

"Master, allow me to put the sun-block on your back. You must keep all your skin protected, you know," she said, somewhat motherly. Malic didn't really respond. He thought about negating her offer, but, she was right, he would need help... He thought so, anyway.

Sitting down, picking at the sand as he waited, Malic distractedly watched Sapphire take out the plastic bottle full of skin-protection, watched as the rabbit girl rubbed the white liquid into her hands, and gently pressed them onto his bare flesh. A small part of him stiffened. Her touch was cool, soft, and methodic, an entrancing motion of delicate hands slowly rubbing his back, light and feathery, a physical high within itself. Primal urges swept into his mind. Primal urges gave way to thoughts, gave way to the idea of Sapphire slowly coming closer, pressing her body on him, rubbing him on the chest, the stomach, as she began to search lower, digging for the prize in his trunks.

He shook the thought off, and quickly, as he realized his member felt the rush of blood, hardening it. Just in time too, as she (to Malic's regret) finished up, handing the sun block to the noblemen, as he proceeded to coat his arms and legs. He noticed Sapphire didn't seem to use any.

"Sapphire? Shouldn't you put some on too?" he asked, afraid she might burn herself. Or afraid she wouldn't rub herself meticulously with the creamy liquid. The maid gave a small shake of the head.

"No, ma-, I mean, sir. I was designed to resist harmful solar waves with my fur. It would be a waste for a slave to need commodities such as those," she replied, beginning to remove her skirt and top. Malic was about to say something back, until he saw the girl... strip.

The red skirt was first to fall, save the shirt. The noblemen's eyes watched, without realization, as Sapphire removed the tether, bending over, buttocks appearing under the grasp of a very revealing g-string, a vague, red triangle blurring out her... goods. The top was next, Sapphire, as though she wanted to appear like an exotic stripper, taking it off, bouncing, firm breasts emerging under the same form of bathing suit: basic triangles covering her nipples and a tiny part of the bosom, that was practically it. A tight, steaming body stood in front of Malic, lavender hair flowing over angelic shoulders, with perfect curves and legs, magnificent breasts and so on. Malic lost his voice, if to ever retrieve it again.

"Woah! Sapphire! You look... I mean... isn't that, er... are you? Wow... those are... I mean! Isn't that too revealing?" he sputtered, like a child who just seen his first naked lady. Sapphire did a familiar tilt of the head, and her brows began to angle, as though shameful and sad.

"I'm sorry, sir. These are not suitable to you? Perhaps I should just return to the room," she said, sheepishly. Malic was quick to contradict her, and for what reason, he was never entirely certain.

"No! Stay out here, I don't mind, I just... er, I don't know, thought you might be uncomfortable..." he tagged, kind of desperately, hidden wishes wanting her to stay, so that she could continue to be there, delicious form and all.

"No sir, I am quite suited to this. As long as you are pleased, I am happy," was her melancholy drone, one that persisted for the tone of slave, servant, and so on. In ways, tidbits of her wanted Malic to command her more. Let's go back to the room, she would imagine him saying. Take it all off, everything... the imaginary Malic would command, as Sapphire eagerly saw herself stripping for him, completely naked. But, as her noble lord had done, she swiftly disregarded the thoughts, crushing them under her foot.

Don't think like that again! Came a mental shout. She looked back to Malic, waiting for him, as he saw the bits of pale skin in his face rush with red. She knew he was always trying to hide something. She could hear it, his heartbeat, the quickness of his breath. If only he would just disregard his nobility, and take her, somewhere, smoothly and warmly, as she had wanted... wanted for a while now.

Alas, the two turned away from such hormone driven actions. Malic, even though he desired it, was still more content on just having fun with her as she was, the two braving the rather dramatic chill of the ocean (Malic swore he was going to die from ammonia), taking deep dives and purposefully being bludgeoned by incoming waves, sparkling blue water flying everywhere. And even though Sapphire had never even been near a pool, or a massive body of water, her swimming was elegant, graceful. Malic, being pushed around by the water like a random leaf, stood no chance against the tides; Sapphire, however, swam through them as if the water were her home, her natural affinity.

It gave the noblemen a playful frustration. He didn't mind the fact that he wasn't much of a physical specimen, but to be showed up? By a girl? By his maid? Unthinkable. Standing knee deep in the billowing water, Malic stared on, seeing Sapphire slide and dive through the waters, only to re-emerge (in a ridiculously sexual pose as she rose from the water), water dripping off her in copious amounts. They repeated this, over and over, dive, dash, swim, explore, venturing through the deep of an ocean that held its own secrets and mysteries, caught up in actions they had no realization of, every second a breathing pulse to move, become part of the orchestra that was the water's symphony. And Sapphire... she was growing more delectable and taunting than ever before. Malic's body shook and quivered as he looked to her, and it wasn't from the cold.

This nonsense distracted him, however, from an immense wave forming ahead of him. Sooner than he could react, an enormous force of water pummeled him into the deep, sending him spinning and tumbling as he was caught in the force of a storm... 30 yards from the shore. He tried to get control of himself, but to no avail, until the rapid force piloted him face first into damp sand, back at square one. He groaned, outward and inward, rather ashamed, feeling weak. He imagined laughter. He imagined the world seeing just how feeble he was compared to the force of outside influences. For a time, he considered leaving his face engulfed by sand for the rest of eternity.

"You really suck at swimming, you know that Malic?" a voice abruptly said. A voice that was impossible to miss, one that was deep, rugged, and foreign. He raised his head, seeing hairy looking feet and legs, then a tall figure, a wily smirk caught on its face.

"V-vostrikov?" he coughed, the loan-shark holding out a hand to help him up. Standing, wobbling at the knees, Malic wore a face of perplexed confusion. Or idiocy. One or the other.

"Mr. Majestic," he answered, a mobster on a vacation, to say the least. Malic rubbed the sand crusting on his face off, trying to believe that the killer was actually... here.

"Vostrikov, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be, um, collecting?" he posed, quizzically, never thinking he'd see the day when Mr. Gustav decided to take a vacation.

"What am I doing here? What are you doing swimming like a paper bag? Jesus, Malic, I thought you were gonna' drown. Haven't you ever learned to swim?" he shot back, leering while Malic furrowed his brow, feeling a lot like a dunderhead. Instead of responding, he gave a shrug.

"Ahh, get over it, I know you're not that incompetent. And besides, can't I have a vacation once in a while, too? Wash the blood off my arms, you know," the German said with a chuckle, scratching his unusually hairy chest.

"I guess," the noblemen muttered. He didn't necessarily feel like racking his brains as to why Gustav was at Paradise Momentum, and the probability of running into him at the very same ocean locale. His own focus, though, was broken when loud splashes could be heard behind him, as Sapphire walked toward him, a soft touch of panic in her face, placing a hand on his shoulder. Again that wonderful feeling.

"Sir, are you all right? I saw you fall under the water, I thought you were drowning," Sapphire stated, earnest worry worn in her eyes. Malic squinched in a very sweltering embarrassment. Was he honestly that bad at swimming?

"I'm fine, Miss Sapphire." he said, stale toned, as he noticed the intrigued glance of Gustav from the interloper. Granted, the German watched her face, nothing more, perhaps respecting Sapphire as a woman. Or a piece of Malic's property.

"Eh, Sapphire, my dear, this is my good friend, Vostrikov Gustav. He and I have known each other for at least 11 years now," introduced the Majestic heir, Vostrikov reaching out his hand to shake hers.

"The pleasure is mine. And it was twelve, by the way, you don't have to not count the whole bus lane incident," said the foreigner, giving the rabbit hybrid an unprecedented firm shake. Only to find that her shake felt... stronger.

Sapphire bowed her head in respect. "A delight to meet you, Mr. Gustav. A friend of mas... Mr. Majestic, is a friend of mine," giving him a bright smile, upper level manners and all.

"Excuse me sir, may I dry off? my fur is beginning to grow over-saturated," Sapphire suddenly asked Malic. The question caught him a bit off guard (she hadn't really done that before), until he nodded in affirmation. When she set off toward the beach umbrella and chairs, Gustav let out a slight wolf-whistle.

"Quite a woman you've got there, Malic. Pretty, smart, and strong. Didn't know she was a Synthetic," the German mused, taking notes to watch her stance and walk. Utter perfection.

"A what?" Malic queried in response, slightly annoyed at Vostrikov's whistle.

"A Synthetic. You've never heard of them?" Malic shook his head, "hm. Well, bio-engineered servants like her were more than just maids and butlers, ya' know. Military kept a refined breed of these things, used em' as weapons. They looked innocent, but were strong as hell." he indulged, as the noblemen suddenly hung on to every word. Sapphire? A weapon? Can't be...

"When that department fell off, or so I'm told, they became open-market merchandise and research, eventually, intelligent pets that do whatever they're told. See now, this is why they have laws preventing someone from owning a large amount of slaves. Some of em' still have that Synthetic strength. Give that to a rich, violent bastard, a good amount of hybrids, and you've got a problem," Vostrikov explained, tilting his head as he continued to gaze at the rabbit hybrid, confirming the notion in his thoughts.

"Are you telling me she's a killer?" Malic questioned, almost spitting, as if from being insulted. He could not even begin to fathom the sweet girl of his dreams had the potential to hurt people. The German shrugged.

"Not really. She's definitely still with Synthetic strength, I can tell you that. Mostly because it's to protect the respective owner, not for hostile assassinations. I think their training overrides stuff like that. She'd do anything for ya', Malic, and that includes keeping you alive and well, and what better way than to be able to bend steel like a pillow?"

Most of the information left the noblemen stunned. He didn't necessarily know what to feel, a rain of mixed emotions dabbling his thoughts. She's stronger than I am. That means I have utterly no control over her. She could just decide to get up, strangle me, and I could do nothing to stop it. She wouldn't do that though... would she? Came mental questions, all of which felt a little too farfetched.

"Wait a minute. Vostrikov, how do you know she's a Synthetic, or is, or has whatever? How do you even know what a Synthetic is?" Malic asked intently, curiousness pushing him forward to learn more about his very interesting maid.

Vostrikov looked down at the sand a moment, face contorting into a grimace. "I know people in the right places. I was taught and told specifically how to deal with a Synthetic. Why? When people don't pay up their debts, they use the Synthetics like fodder. I had an instance..." he stopped, pausing, uncertain if he should continue. Malic patted him on the shoulder, noticing the strain in the German's face.

"I'm sorry, you don't have to go on, I'm asking enough as it is," apologized Malic, glancing at Sapphire from afar, noticing she was beginning to lay down on a towel.

"No, I'm fine. You should know. We're friends, after all. Anyway. I had this instance where a very portly fellow had gotten way behind on his gambling debts, and he completely refused to pay up. Said it was the cassino's fault. I was commissioned to do my... business, and tracked him to his manor. The Rob Sky fire, remember that?"

"That was you?" Malic said in a shattered surprised. Vostrikov hastily looked around and made a motion to keep his voice down. "Sorry," he whispered.

"I had him tied up in all, pretty much at the death sentence, he was begging for his life, ya' know, mercy and all that. You see, he did have manor slaves, not so far off from your little cutie over there, Malic. In order to get to him, I had to go through them. The stance, the walk, their motions, I knew it all. They had a very strict training implant and hybrid genetics that allowed for it. Sapphire? Same thing, big guy, she has it in her," Vostrikov concluded, scratching the chin of his ruff beard in pensive remembrance. The information was hitting Malic's head like a bag of steel bricks.

"Bad thing was, he talked about them as they were: property. It really made me feel sick, that these hybrids would give their life, their very soul, if they had to, to save their master, and this man wanted to trade them off as collateral. It's a sour memory," Vostrikov added, a strain of tenderness rushing about his eyes.

"Should I be worried?" blurted the noblemen, in a fashion that seemed completely foolish. The German snorted with a chuckle.

"What? Are you gonna' tell me you're afraid of that beach-beauty? She won't do it Malic, she can't, that servant will never attempt to hurt you. It's like a damn lock, ya' know, the word of the master." offered Mr. Gustav in condolence.

Nodding, feeling dumber than before, Malic pieced it in his head. No, he wasn't afraid, not of her. But why ask? Did he think it was empowering, having this dainty-little flower that could overpower him in a second under his control? Or maybe... it excited him. He really didn't have control over her. Yes, the command of the master, the control, the training, the genetics, but in all honestly, hidden deep in her subconscious, Sapphire made the decision to be a slave. It was the Chaos Theory. Nature refused to be shackled and chained, regardless of chemical design.

"So," Vostrikov broke in, noticing the silence, "have ya' pinched her ass lately? I tell ya' Malic, you've got something else on your hands," he said with a chortle. The noblemen glared at him, and the German proceeded to laugh, nudging Malic in the ribs.

"I'm kidding, fool, I'm kidding!" the German starting to cackle, his friend playfully shoving him away.

Eventually, Vostrikov made his departure, leaving Malic with baking skin as the sun swiftly dried him off. Most notably, he was burning up, and decided to head for the shade instead of the ocean again. Besides, what fun could really be had without Sapphire? Waltzing over, in a predominately careful sense, he could see she was in a light sleep, on her stomach, allowing sunlight to warm her fur, almost like a cat would. As he looked at her, he felt tempted to suddenly grab her buttocks, squeeze them tight, since they seemed so round and firm, a ridiculous tease that sent a familiar knotting inside his pants. Once again, though, he resisted, threatening to throw himself into cold water again. Or bury himself alive.

Unlike her, however, Malic threw himself onto the beach chair under the shade of the umbrella. He didn't mind getting some rays, but too much would be bad. He had heard some members of his family died of skin cancer, because of over exposure. Wouldn't want that to happen, not in this lifetime.

It was roughly an hour later before they made their leave, both awaking somewhat briskly out of a nap. When Malic had checked the time, it read 12:38, half past lunch, and they decided to eat back in their room. Of course, it was enticing and refreshing to be in an air-conditioned building again; regardless of the beautiful resort beach, it could get too hot if left to bake. Such as they had done. They showered off, dressed again, and ordered room service, though the noblemen still preferred Sapphire's cooking to the hotel's own.

"Well, did you have fun, dear?" Malic asked her, both eating a rich lunch of oven roasted fish and fresh salads. She nodded, forking down a clutter of lettuce, mentally noting how Malic commonly referred to her as Miss or dear. Were it not for the fact that this was his nature, she would have sworn he was flirting with her. If he all ready was, that is.

"It was incredible," she started, laying down her silverware, taking a gaze out the window. "I've never been to the ocean before. I was taught how to swim at Global-Sun, but I didn't think I'd actually use it for recreation. Safety purposes, really." Her eyes were resonating as though new life had been breathed into her, a signification she was happy. Which meant Malic was happy.

"I'm glad you did. To tell you the truth, I don't swim that often either, if ever. This is probably the third time I've been to a resort in my whole life. You can tell, cause, well... I looked pretty stupid out there," he admitted shyly, rather ashamed that the waters below could toss him around so easily.

"You did, master, but that's okay. It was cute," she challenged, a noticeable level of casualty in her voice. It was actually relaxing to Malic, for, more and more, bits of a real person began to show up within her. All he had to do was keep trying, layer at a time.

"Yeah right. You, on the other hand, look like you belong in the Olympics. Are you sure you've never swam before? It's like you lived out there. Maybe I should get us a nice house out on some private island so you can be in the water all you want," he mused, teasing her, revealing the impeccable skills she apparently had.

"That would be nice. You could get a decent tan, Master Malic, and work out a bit more. I cook all your food, you get as strong as you can. Wonder what you'd look like with a six-pack, master?" she coyly said, a seductive smirk crossing her muzzle, to which the young noble had never seen before. It was satirical, but at the same time, it may have been a subtle plea.

Hm. Maybe I should. Give her something to look at, by the very least, a hidden voice echoed within Malic's mind.

They carried on with conversing for the remainder of the hour, going over fantasy ideas about random mansions off in some private world where only they lived. Hardly realizing it, both of them spoke as if there was a deep, untouched relationship, that they planned to live together for the rest of their lives. In the end, though, neither of them cared. It was a vacation, they were away from the rules of the world, both wanted to enjoy themselves.

The rest of the day went on with the two mostly relaxing, not really going anywhere else. Malic, after skimming through the last of his newspaper, took his time to watch golf, the Golden Open at Scottsdale (his favorite course). There were a couple of new faces during the time, while some old veterans stood tied in a tedious, close edge face off at the 16th hole. It made Malic chuckle. His grandfather had told him about some of the best: Jack Nicholas, Arnold Palmer, Tiger Woods, Vijay Singh, miraculous men of their age. It was going to be a while before a new master rose to the front.

Sapphire (under her "orders" from Malic to relax) took the time to read, going through the popular magazines covering all the scandals, what to wear, best movies, best musical group and so on, siphoning information enthusiastically, interested in what it was like to live outside of an indentured servant. It fascinated her, because, well, she was under the part of slave, and to know and actually grip on current events was so very thrilling... breaking out of a mold, a shell. Of course, though, deep seeded training slapped her around when she got to deep. You're still a slave, Sapphire. You still have no rights. Remember your place; you belong to Master Malic, his property, nothing more. It was uncomfortable to know, but it was the truth. Besides, Malic didn't mind, and liberated her more so than usual, all she could ever ask for.

There would be a brief word between the two here and there, Sapphire politely asking what a hook or slice was, Malic wondering whom was arrested for another DUI and so on, small and idle chat. Sometimes the true paradise was living in the same room, sharing the company, unspoken friendship that needed no words or actions. The beach had worn them, and they both consented to the idea of just staying inside, which they did so until the beacon sun vanished behind the horizon, and night slowly took Paradise Momentum once again. It was 9:22 when Malic released a billowing yawn.

"Tired, master?" Sapphire queried in a rhetorical sense. Malic cracked his back a few times and gave a slow nod.

"I'm used to getting to sleep a little earlier than this. I might as well turn in." he announced hazily, rubbing his eyes from the moistness of approaching sleep. Sapphire stood from where she was sitting and gave Malic a gentle hug, one of thanks and appreciation.

"Then get some sleep. Thank you so much, Master Malic, you've been wonderful to me," she whispered, holding the embrace for a good moment. The noblemen gave her a squeezing hug back, and smiled inwardly.

"It's no problem. It's the least I can do, Miss Sapphire. Don't stay up too late, all right?" he said, releasing her to go to his room. Sapphire made her familiar curtsy (she was still in the red mini-skirt), and watched him go, until her lips parted, a strange thought crossing her mind.

"If the master pleases, I can give him a massage to help him relax," she proposed, either to tease, or truthful to the very core. Malic gave an amused smirk.

"That won't be necessary, but thank you for the offer. Another time, I think," he mused, rubbing his chin and winking at her, while Sapphire responded with a quick giggle.

When Malic returned to his room, his mind was screaming at him. Are you crazy!? Do it NOW!! It's right in front of you!! Take it!! Don't even ask her, just take it!! Rip her clothes off, force her down, you belligerent idiot!! What is wrong with you!?!? GO BACK THERE AND GET THAT ASS!!!

Malic nearly guffawed to himself in unfiltered laughter. His primal behavior could be so crude and repulsive, not to mention dribbling and funny. As much as wanted to, as sexually alluring as Sapphire was, he wouldn't do it. Not now. Not yet. He didn't even know if he ever was going to.

Alas, with a click of the lamp and the removal of his dress pants and shirt, Malic slid into bed and drifted to sleep not too long afterward, his mind pulsing with the rage of a hidden desire...