Her Father a weaponsmith so it brought many different men about the shop ordering this or that, testing the weights of the swords and knifes for balance. She liked the throwing daggers. Her Father had made her plenty and she learned quickly on how to smelt and pour out her own as well when she had gone through a few too many in practicing. She cared not for the larger weapons but a swift bit of steel thrown to zing through the air thrilled her to hear it land. She made some as small as leaves and others up to 8 inches in length and thin all sharp tipped to pierce the target. It got to be an obsession and she would hide them on her person, about her place, where she went she did it like second nature now never thinking too much about it. One habit it was that she never grew tired of.

Then there was another that struck a chord. It was the fall and the parks were turning the leaves such colors when she found Him, dark of hair, tall and shoulders wide, His whole body spoke of something untamed within the polite garb of a gentleman

The man was called Lucien a name that slid off the tongue the same weapon that probably let Him bed me that first night and so many after. That exquisite tongue the way He could set my body ablaze, making me arch and beg until He put out the flames His hands and kisses had started. He was by far the best lover He had a way of drawing out the very depths in one, calling them to be wild, to let down their hair and to roll into exquisite passion. He could be as gentle as a flower petal against the flesh or as striking as a lightening bolt hitting the earth and shaking the very ground one walked on. Such contrasts were probably what held my attention for so much longer on Him than any other had before. He was enticing and the cologne of His body drove me wild. I bit him one night when we made love in the park under the swaying of the dark leaves and I bit quite hard at His throat, over His shoulder I could not stop. Scratching at Him until I felt His body grow corded and taut and then He was nipping back then biting and I remember such an orgasm as the storm broke out overhead, the scent of blood in the air and for all the clawing and biting I never knew then it was my own. It was hot and I loved every moment of it.