Fire lashes me like a molten whip across my skin. I fight the urge to laugh at the pain. I'm always cold... always. Even training in the desert I didn't sweat rivers like Belen always did. I still mock him for that. He says it's his "manly, dark skin." I tell him it's the swamp beast in him.

Always cold, except when I held my Flame in my arms. My heart was racing with her in my embrace. Even the sight of red-hot flames licking my skin doesn't make my heart beat like that.

"Are you... are you thinking about her, right now?" Belen calls out, glaring at me as he helps me to collapse the building's wall into the flames to keep it from spreading.

"Yes," I reply in a grunt. The flames licking my scales may not really hurt, but inhaling the heat and smoke from the fire would. I'm careful to keep my breathing to a minimum.

"Really?" he asks. He leaps back from the inferno, swearing colorfully as the fire reignites in places.

I just grunt a reply. I haven't seen my beautiful Fated in nearly a week. The storm destroyed part of the Mother neighborhood. Families lost everything. Thank the gods the orphanages are in the temples and farther away from the riverbanks, or the storm would have been even more of a disaster.

Added to the clean-up efforts is the loss of some of the fields. Those who work in them or were part of the harvest efforts were left vulnerable to thieves. We've scarcely had time to sleep or eat since the storm.

Some of the city shifters are desperate. We have our hands full with not just rescues. Our presence deters looting and crime, but we can't be everywhere. There is still a list of crimes to investigate in my study that is too long. I don't see it shrinking any time soon.

After a while the fire heats up my scales, threatening to boil me in my own skin.

"Back off, let this one burn out." I step back, finding that my brethren have already retreated.

"Damn, Lios," Belen says quietly, as a bucket of cool water is thrown on me.

"What?" I ask him.

"You stood in flames higher than your head for nearly twenty minutes," he says slowly.

"Ah, it's knowing when to get out, Bel."

"Keep the debris as far away as possible from the fire. We want to prevent it spreading. I'm worried about the alley to the west. Won't take much effort for the fire to jump," Asan, a Recondite with flame tattoos and eyes that burn red all the time, tells me.

I direct the line of males pouring buckets on the flames to concentrate on those buildings in the alleyway. "If the fire starts to get higher, pull these buildings down."

Asan nods. "I think it's under control, Captain."

"Fuck," I sigh. "I'm not the Captain, yet, am I?" I'm a little morose. Not over my title, but because I haven't had the time to see my female and I don't want to take the time for the elemental tests.

"I miss her," I tell Belen. He gives me a pained smile. "Do you think you can reschedule those elemental tests soon?"

"You're done." Belen says quietly.

I frown, "Done?"

"Lios... you just battled a raging river, a hailstorm, and mudslides... just a few days ago. You haven't rested properly since. Fire was the only element you didn't prove yourself on... until this," he waves his hand at the sodden, grey ash around me and the flames in the distance.

"You are our Captain," Asan adds solemnly.

"Let's make it official," Belen says. "So you can chase your female," he rolls his eyes.

---

I smirk as Kahn stares at the hawk on my throat with a scowl etched on his face. He nearly punched me in the gut when he had to tattoo my throat. Most Recondites bear the hawk on their arm or chest. I had no space left on any skin.

"One slip and you're a dead fucker," he mutters. A bead of sweat drips down his forehead.

"Don't let your hands shake, Kahn," I tell him with a grin.

"Stop talking! Your throat moves!" he growls at me. With apprehension in his eyes he moves his sharp inking tool towards my skin. "Fucking joke, this is," he mutters.

The sting of the circlet of the Captain of the Recondites hurts less than the original hawk. I admit it's a bit unnerving to have a sharp tool right at my jugular, but I'm covered in tattoos. I must enjoy getting ink, right? Not that I can remember getting any of the others...

"Right, all set. Congratulations, Captain," Kahn snaps.

"Congratulations," echoes several of the onlookers.

I grin. "Drink up, males. I have a female to catch."

I leave the barracks at a jog. There's no speech necessary, thank the gods. I already took the oath of the Recondites when Belen and I came from the desert. No need to swear anything extra to be Captain. We all have each other's backs, regardless.

I could use some sleep and a solid meal, but I need to see my female, more.

---

I hug Tafia goodbye.

"You should wait for Sera to come back, to take you home," she tells me worriedly.

I smile and shake my head, "I'll be fine, Taff. Look," I nod my head towards the hulking shadows patrolling. Recondites have been out in the streets, making sure to secure the city as it recovers from the horrific storm.

Tafia manages to smile at me teasingly, "not your Recondite, though?"

I blush. I told her scant details of him, but of course she picked up on romance of being rescued from that shanty. Tafia is an unapologetic romantic.

She coughs a little. "Do you want me to stay until Sera returns?" I ask her. She looks a bit wan, though her cough has gotten better.

She shakes her head. Without her cat she is more vulnerable to illness and injury. Our mad dash through the streets during the storm made her terribly sick. She's recovering, but then Sera's family from the Fourth House sent a messenger that her father wished to speak with her.

That's where she is, now. Both Tafia and I are worried.

"Go back to the temple. I can see how exhausted you are. You need to bathe in your pool... or your father's pool. I have no idea how you can stand that much water right now, by the way."

I laugh. "It's not really water, is it?"

She wrinkles her nose at me, "all I know is that I hope to have seen the last of water for awhile."

"You still need to drink," I tease her.

"Wine," she says instantly.

My stomach grumbles. Tafia looks at me with a grin. "Alright, we both need to sleep. Be safe."

"You too, Taff."

I walk down the stairs carefully. The ice is long gone, but the steps are uneven and hard to see in the waning light of day.

I wrap the light grey robes of the temple around my body a little tighter to keep them away from my feet. They are simple and unadorned, but cling in a way that reveals every womanly curve I have. It always makes me happy to see that I have weight on me. Some vanity is allowed for the little girl deemed too ugly to be a bride.

I'm not that girl any longer, with the hint of cleavage and the skirt that sways as I walk down a quiet street in the neighborhood, listening to the whispers of the dead. They are solemn this evening. Too many died recently. Even the ghosts feel the sorrow, the weight of their ranks swelling too fast, too soon.

Some patrolling Recondites see me, nod in greeting, before continuing to walk their routes. Every time I see those leathers, the swords and dark tattoos, I get a hitch in my chest. But, it's never him.

It's interesting, being unescorted through the streets. My gargoyles are avoiding me, avoiding the grief that is too tempting for even Alnue. They're gluttonous, those fat little beasties. I tried to tell them to stop, but they didn't listen and now they're hiding, trying to sleep off the feast of the last few days.

"There you are, my Flame. You shouldn't be wandering the streets alone, Sprite," the drawl comes from the shadows.

There is a part of me, a large part, that wants to scream at him for the gross unfairness of it all. Nateos is my god. Mine. How dare this... this disgusting male become, of all things, a Recondite? Yes, they swear themselves to all the gods, but everyone knows that War and Death need them the most.

I know he was a warrior before, all of the major House's families train their sons to be warriors, but gods! Why here? When did this happen? How did this happen?

Another, smaller part of me warms to hear his voice, no matter how aggravating his presence is. Damn the gods.

"I'm perfectly safe here in Death, Recondite. Now, if you'll excuse me," I say coldly, greeting him and dismissing him all at once.

He eases out of the shadows. "Are you well, my Sprite? I'm sorry I didn't come see you for these past few days."

"That's fine," I say breezily. It's not fine. I lay awake just last night wondering why he didn't seek me out. Isn't it lovely how contradictory I am with myself? I really am driving myself crazy. I start to walk down the street, faster than usual.

"Are you running from me, my sweetheart?" he asks me softly.

I come to a screeching halt. "I run from no one," I reply coldly. Hah, get it? I run from no one, because he is no one to me and I am definitely running from him?

His grey eyes fixate on me with an intensity that I just isn't fair to my rapidly beating heart. "You are running from me, little sprite. Do you want me to chase you? I will surely oblige with your desire."

His massive form dwarfs me in a way that could either be menacing... or protective. I inhale him. I can't help myself. The desert, the spicy mix of male and demon. He scents of fire more than usual and a spurt of worry darts through me. Was he fighting the flames eating the Mother's neighborhoods?

Nateos help me, he is such a male. Not as pretty as I remember. I suppose the bond between us colored my vision of him before. Still, he cuts an impressive figure with a handsome face. Strong, aquiline nose, broad chin, taller than me by a mile, the body of a warrior. His dark hair is tied back unforgivingly and shorn tight to his scalp at the sides. I'm not sure why he chose the odd style, but I like it.

I hate that I like the changes. I hate that I find his tattoos as intriguing as the best scrolls in the library. He's a work of art in more than one way.

He has grown a slight beard, just on his chin and part of his cheeks, making him seem older and softer than before. Softer? Maybe that's not the word, he's hard as stone, but again, I like the changes.

"What are you thinking, little sprite?" he is examining me as much as I am him, I realize.

"Your beard," I reply without thinking.

He smiles at me. "Do you like it? I can grow it longer or rid myself of it easily enough if you wish it," he states.

I just keep staring at him. This is the second time in a mere heartbeat's-long conversation that he has mentioned my wishes.

I'm being haunted. The daughter of Nateos is being haunted in the mortal realm by her own Fated mate. How unfortunately ironic. He has returned with tattoos and a beard and the sweetest smile... No, no, Mara. Don't fall for his charm. He was charming before. It was all lies.

"If you'll excuse me," I tell him, "It's late."

His smile falls away.

"Sprite," he says in his gravel voice, "I will escort you to your temple."

Did I mention that his voice is... oof... perfect? Warm and dark but not liquid soft. No, he even sounds like a strong male.

I start to walk away without acknowledging him. Maybe he'll get the hint and leave me be.

Calloused hands brush the waist of my dress. Mushu hisses at Thelios before vanishing in a flurry of mad giggles and sharp spikes clattering against each other.

I suck in a deep breath that expands the robes too tightly around my ribcage. I suppose this means that, yes, he is following me. Why? Why is this male so hell-bent on pretending he is someone else? Is this some sort of trick? Some cruelty that Thane has decided I deserve?

He touches my waist again and I snap, "keep your distance, Captain."

Fingers skim my chin, tilting my head back. Awareness shoots to the skin that the merest touch has set to sparking. It shoots through my limbs, that small touch. He held me in his arms days ago, but I was frightened and unaware. This... this is shocking my whole existence.

Grey eyes stare down at me. "You are afraid of me. Don't be, my fire sprite."

Pain lashes at me. Sorrow and hatred flow as sluggishly deep as the Crone River in the Underworld. I have every reason to be afraid of him.

I pull away, hissing as vocally as Mushu, "how dare you touch me?"

The-warrior-who-isn't-Thane flinches visibly. "Apologies," he murmurs. He steps back, but when I try to skirt around him he follows. We walk down the streets like magnets, me attracting and him repelling, all the way to the temple doors.

"You are well, sprite?" he asks me just as I think I will get away without a deep conversation.

"Fine," I reply shortly.

"Why run from this, sprite? Run from us?"

I stop short. A normal male would run my over with my abrupt movement, but not this male. He eases to a stop, just a hands-breadth from me.

"Why do you insist on that ridiculous nickname?" I ask. I cringe immediately. Why did I ask that? All I was thinking was why a silly, childish nickname instead of something more grown-up, sexier? I want to slap myself for even thinking that I want this male to call me any endearment at all.

"Once, shortly after I met Belen, I saw a fire sprite in the desert. The sun was setting, and it lit up in flames of orange and red and yellow with purple. I thought it was the most beautiful sight.

Until I saw you. You are even more beautiful," he says softly. Despite me scolding him for touching me just a moment ago, his fingers brush through my hair gently. "Fiery and exquisite. Something precious and rare."

Spots dance in front of my eyes and I remember to breathe.

"You can't-" I lick my lips, "you mustn't say those things to me."

"They are the truth. I will always be honest with you, my fire sprite."

Something tingles in my fingertips. I feel an overwhelming desire to touch him, to brush my fingers against his beard, to curl my hand in his. Innocent touches, the touch of a child for her protector, more than the touch of lovers.

"I can't" I whisper. I can't be with Thane, no matter who he claims himself to be now.

"We are Fated," he says firmly, but in a soothing, low voice. "We belong to each other. You can do this. We can do this."

I shake my head. He is Thane, I remind myself over and over like an endless chant in my head.

"Please, Captain. Forget about me, about this. It will never happen." I slip through the door, letting it close behind me with a sharp click.

Taking a deep breath, I press my hand to my chest. I'm afraid of how my heart is beating. It's beating for him.

---

I flick my fingers through the yellow flame of the candle. There, in the center, it burns red. Quick fingers chase the red-hot heart, but fire is more nimble than I am.

"You haven't had enough of fire? Or is this a new training method? You're practicing for 'Burn the Trainees?'" Belen jokes as he sits next to me.

I ignore him, keeping my eyes on the fire. Maybe if I look away? If I only see the flame from my periphery can I capture it?

"Ah, Thelios?"

"I went to see her," I tell him abruptly.

"Who? Oh, the Priestess. How did that go..." Belen says slowly. He looks at the candle, then me. "You know that's a real flame you have your fingers in, right?"

I huff and give up on the candle. The heat in my fingers reminds me of how my heart felt when I looked at her. The rest of my body is as cold as death. She warms me.

"I will have her."

"Fuck, Thelios. You can't just say that shit here," Belen's voice drops, all teasing long gone.

"I will. I know it, Belen. She is my Fated."

Belen is expressionless, but I know my brother and he is simply hiding his shock. "That's not possible, Thelios, for you or her."

I nod. When we pledge ourselves to the gods we forsake all bonds. No longer can we find brides, no longer do Houses retain loyalty, even blood families lack the closeness they used to. The original gods we worshiped are replaced by the One vow and all of the deities have our sworn promise to serve. I am not supposed to be so blessed as to have a Fated. A female, a Bonded.

Yet, I know what I feel when I look at her. I have no House, no family, no life to be loyal to... but I have her. "I'm certain of this, Bel. She is mine." I look at the candle. My fingers rest near the wick as the flame dances merrily around it. "The gods have blessed me with this gift, Belen. I didn't ask for her, but now that the gods have deemed me worthy I'll keep her forever. She is my match, my perfect Fate."

"So the flame?" Belen nods towards the candle.

"She's refusing to acknowledge our bond."

"Ah," Belen nods again. "Do you think," he says tentatively, "that she doesn't feel what you do, Thelios?"

I shake my head, "she feels it. I can see it in her body, her eyes. My female feels our Bond but she will not admit it."

Belen releases a puff of air, "maybe she has her reasons, Lios."

"No," I reply, stubbornly. I refuse to believe that she will reject me. I am her gift and she is mine. It is the way of the gods. My demon stretches and yawns. He is ready to Claim his beautiful female and can't understand why we haven't mated her already. "It is my duty to be her male. She is mine and I am hers. I will figure out why she wants to deny me and I will change her mind."

Belen shakes his head, "your stubbornness will either win you your female or kill you, my friend."

I shake my head at him. "Without my female, I may as well be dead."