Our time has passed, his and mine. He loves another now, and greets
the night with her name on his lips. I cannot begrudge him, for
she is fire,
courage, honor, and tempered steel. Devoted, loyal, dutiful, and
rebellious. All things I would delight in for a lover--if only
she were a
man.
And yes, sometimes I wish this, for I love her too, in my way.
She
could be so shaped, if she but asked. There are nights
when I am
sure it is only her sex--that, and my body's inability to respond
to women--that prevents me from pursuing her myself. The three
of us, together...
First, I loved her because he did, because she had saved
him, turned him
somewhat from his path of self-destruction. And she saved me,
gave me
sanctuary and peace, when she had just cause to hate my people.
Even now, she tolerates me, despite my arrogant blindness and
the blow I dealt her. Then, the night she fought beside us...
A fledgling telepath could have read her. To this night, I believe
she
had no idea how open she was. My Sire's pact, the kidnapping of
her
friend...these gave her the excuse. Her hatred for my Sire--whom
she
called The Maggot--rivaled our own. That night, she fought for
us, to
avenge the abuses heaped upon us, upon our Broodmates who she
had never known. And so much regret, that she hadn't known earlier,
that she hadn't been stronger, been able to free us. Regret, but
never the smallest scrap of pity. Honest wrath, because those
things were wrong and someone should have stepped in long
ago and had not.
I think I began to love her myself, then.
Her passion enflames, touching all who encounter her, friend or
foe. I
envy those who are blessed with such loving fire in their beds...I
envy
him at times.
If only she were a man...
~finis~