raping a defenseless village girl.  The Sha'Kar were a confusing paradox of conflicting impressions.  Some of their behavior infuriated him, but they were just so likable.  Iselde was a rather friendly girl that Tarrin had to admit that he liked a little bit.  But this seemed...decadent.  He knew that the Sha'Kar took liberties with their human servants, but this seemed a little bit too much.
	Sometimes, it was what one didn't see that revealed the true nature of things.  Tarrin's chance encounter with the girl showed him exactly how the Sha'Kar felt about their human servants.  They were objects to them.  Playtoys, to do the work that was beneath them, and entertain them in whatever manner they chose the rest of the time.
	The girl saw his eyes narrow, and she gave him a very fearful expression, dropping her basket and staring up at him like a fawn staring into the eyes of a hungry wolf.  Tarrin looked down at her felt a seething, towering fury rise up in him, something he had to crush under his will almost immediately.  It didn't matter how nice the Sha'Kar were or how interesting they were or how friendly they were.  Not now.  He couldn't leave this alone.
	"Did they force you?" he asked in a calm, deadly quiet voice.
	"H-honored one?" she asked in fear.
	"I can smell them on you, girl.  Several of them.  Did they rape you?"
	She gaped at him, putting a hand to her chest in surprise.  "We live to serve, honored one," she said.  "The serving is all."
	"They passed you around like a dinner plate, little one," he said in a seething voice.  "You say you were willing?"
	That got a reaction out of her.  She flared up a moment, her eyes turning indignant, and then her anger broke.  She began to cry uncontrollably, putting her hands over her face and turning away from him.  Tarrin felt a little foolish.  Here he went and made her cry.  He put a paw on her shoulder, and before he realized it, she had turned and buried her face in his chest, sobbing in heaving shudders.
	What was wrong with him, he wondered?  She was a human, a stranger.  He shouldn't give a damn one way another about her.  She was a stranger.  His own bad experience with being a slave hardened him to the outside world, but it had also softened him to those who suffered the same plight.  He had been too angry, too full of hate when he was in Yar Arak to feel as he did now. The time with Jesmind and Kimmie, the time to conquer some of his ferality had changed his outlook on such things.  The Sha'Kar were slavers, the worst kind, for their slaves knew without any doubt that their fate was sealed.  There was no escape from the island, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.  If they did run away, their masters would just use Sorcery to track them down, and the punishment could very well make death look more favorable than being recaptured.  To the Sha'Kar, it would be no different than putting down a sick animal.  That was all they saw when they looked at their servants.  Objects to play with, workhorses to do the work that was beneath their dignity.  And they were just humans.  Sheep, Iselde had hinted some Sha'Kar regarded their servants.  Sheep to slaughter when they were no longer useful.
	Dolanna preached delicacy.  Tarrin couldn't forget that together, the Sha'Kar were more powerful than he was.  He couldn't let his anger rule him now.  He couldn't lose his temper and do something stupid.  If he turned the Sha'Kar against him, they would defeat him if it came to a fight.  For one of the very rare times since turning Were, the human in him managed to take control of the Cat, to conquer the outrage and the indignation that it felt at the situation, to calm it down and explain that this was not the time or the place.  He had to choose his battleground carefully if he wanted to do anything about this.  This was not the time for wild rampaging.  This was the time for careful, cautious, delicate maneuvering.  This was time to stalk, not to pounce.  The pouncing would come later.
	Tarrin vowed that to himself.  When he left that island, there would be no servants left behind to continue their hopeless bondage.  If he had to take them all with him, then so be it.  If he had to wipe the Sha'Kar off the island in an orgy of violence and bloodshed, then so be it.  One way or another, things were going to change for these poor, defenseless people.
	And in this little one, Tarrin could sense that change.  He had been too emotional to feel it before now, but now that he had his paws on her, it was as clear to him as the ringing of a bell by his ear.
	The girl had Druidic potential.  Considerable potential.
	That was two Druids he'd come to meet in a matter of days, when he'd not come across a single untrained Druid before.  Was this place making the humans Druidically apt?
	One of them was in Arlan's house, and within easy reach.  But this one, this little one, she was in another house, outside of his view, where something may happen to her.  He could leave the redhead where she was, but not this one.  He had a duty to try to help her, because she was a sister to Fae-da'Nar, an honored Druid.  The Were-cat in him wouldn't let her go back to that house where they used her for whatever depraved entertainments pleased them at the moment.  No, this one, he had to bring home.  They were abusing her where she was now, and he would not abide allowing a Druid to be abused.  Everything that Triana taught him rebelled against that idea.  This time, he had to do something.  He just had to.
	It shouldn't be that hard.  He was sui'kun, after all, that alone should be enough to convince her master to give her to him.  And since he was already upset and outraged at how they were using her, he'd have plenty of steam behind his words to convey his displeasure to the man.
	"Gently now, little one," he soothed, patting her back with his paw.  "Take me to your master.  Now."
	"I-I-I don't want to," she hiccupped in a small voice.
	"I'm not asking you, little one.  I'm telling you," he said in a steely voice, a voice that she could not hear and willingly disobey without wetting herself in terror over what he may do to her if she refused.  He took off his vest and draped it over her shoulders gently.  "Take me to your master."
	She looked up at him, touching the leather vest with her fingers before pulling it around her, and smiled up at him with such a heartbreakingly somber, wan smile that it nearly made him fly off the handle and kill every Sha'Kar he could find.
	The basket left behind, forgotten, the girl clutched the vest around her like it was a robe made of gold and led him along the white stone pathways.  She took him to one of the largest estates on the island, fully three times the size of Arlan's estate, with a massive main mansion and eight buildings arrayed behind it, with a very large swath of farmland hemmed in the fence beyond them.  Tarrin focused his anger into a tight, controlled fury, like the cold anger he'd felt when Jegojah had revealed Faalken's undead body the last time they fought.  This was no time to lose control of himself and slaughter everyone in the estate.  He was so focused he didn't even pay attention as the girl led him in through a modest entrance in the back of the house, through a kitchen staffed with handsome men and pretty women, all of which, Tarrin noticed, were wearing clothes.  Up a majestic set of stairs covered with mother-of-pearl, along a passageway with beaten gold tiles paving the floor.  She led him right to a door layered with gold and with gems encrusted in it, and pointed with a shaking finger.  "He's inside, honored one," she quavered.
	Tarrin put a paw on the door and pushed, but it was locked.  Bound by some kind of spell.  Not feeling like bothering with the pleasantries, Tarrin took a step back, extended the claws on his paws, and then drove them into the door.  He gritted his teeth and growled savagely as his inhuman strength assaulted the door, until the magic holding it closed simply could not resist the raw power he exerted against it.  In a horrific squeal or tearing metal, Tarrin ripped the door off its hinges, pulling it right out of the wall.  He tossed it aside almost negligently, its loud bang echoing down the silent corridors of the huge mansion.
	Inside the room, twice as large as Arlan's chamber, a Sha'Kar male and female sat up in their immense bed and stared in shocked horror as the Were-cat ducked his head and stepped through the gaping wound in the wall, his face cold and his eyes flat and dangerous.  The male was one of the old ones, an Ancient, but the Sha'Kar female with him looked to be one of the youngers.  The male was handsome, the female beautiful, and they gaped at him like he was a Gorgon rampaging through their bedroom.
	"H-Honored one?" the male asked in surprise and dismay.  "What is wrong?"
	Tarrin beckoned at the serving girl in the hallway imperiously.  She looked hesitant, but the look in his eyes made her obey him against her own will.  She shuffled into the room slowly, and did nothing but clutch at the vest like it was some kind of magical armor and stare at the floor.
	"She is yours?" Tarrin asked in a deadly voice.
	"Did she insult you, honored one?" the man asked with sudden cold fury in his voice.  "I assure you, I'll punish her in the most severe manner."
	The girl gasped and broke into tears, taking a few steps backwards, trying to reach the door--
	the Sha'Kar male narrowed his eyes, and Tarrin felt clearly him weaving a spell.  "Pain," he said in a soft tone.
	The girl suddenly screamed like someone put a branding iron to her.  She dropped to the ground and writhed convulsively, shrieking as if the man was standing over her with that branding iron, shoving it in her belly.  She writhed and clutched at her chest, beating her feet against the carpeted floor, froth bubbling up from her mouth as shrieks of agony were torn from her.  "Stop!" Tarrin shouted as the girl continued to scream, the screaming getting into his ears, echoing in his mind, striking him in his aroused anger and triggering his protective instincts.  She was a Druid, a sister of the Were-kin, and he had to protect her.  "Stop it!" Tarrin shouted forcefully at him, clenching his paws into fists as his eyes erupted into the greenish aura of his fury, and then turned white as he started making his connection to the Weave.  His vision hazed over with red as the blood pounded behind his eyes, as the fury, the rage boiled up in him and threatened to spill over and send him out of control.
	"I--said--STOP IT!!!" he shouted in a voice that suddenly took on the power of his magic.  Tarrin's paws limned over in Magelight as he gripped High Sorcery in a crushing grasp, then turned and assaulted the Sha'Kar with the terrible might of his full power.  He had never attacked another Sorcerer before, but he instinctively knew what to do.  He smothered over the Sha'Kar with his power, finding his link to the Weave, and began to squeeze it like a boa constrictor would squeeze a meal.  Tarrin's power quickly and thoroughly overwhelmed the weaker Sorcerer, severing his connection to the Weave.  Tarrin kept his power over the man like a shielding blanket, preventing him from reestablishing his connection to the Weave as the girl stopped writhing, coughing and sputtering between sobs, curling up on the floor in a fetal position.  He wasn't sure when or how he did it, but he had the man out of his bed, his naked body pressed up against the wall behind his bed, like an invisible, giant hand were crushing him into the stone.  In that moment of fury, when he had the man under his control, Tarrin felt the powerful urge, compulsion, desire, need, to kill the man, to vent his fury and make him feel what he had just put that poor girl through, to slowly tear him apart and let his screams echo like sweet music in his ears.  But that knowledge in the back of his mind stayed him, reminded him that individually, he was more than a match for any Sha'Kar, but together, they could defeat him.  This was not the time for mindless retaliation.
	It hung there for a long moment, as the infuriated sui'kun held the Sha'Kar's life in his paws.  And then, with slow, determined, reluctant deliberation, he relaxed his hold on the Weave, his grip on the Sha'Kar.  The aura of Magelight dissipated from his paws, and the incandscence of his eyes reverted back to the glowing, ominous green aura that marked his anger.  Breathing deeply, Tarrin tried to let go of his anger, tried to regain his composure, but it wasn't easy.  Every time the girl on the floor whimpered, it threatened to send him flying into a rage.
	The male dropped to the floor and took in a deep, ragged breath, as the female in the bed scrambled out  of it and rushed to him.
	"If you ever do that to anyone again, I'll come back here and personally rip out your throat," he said in a seething hiss, showing the man his long, curved, deadly claws.  "The gift of the Goddess was never meant to be used to torture people!  I can't believe you!  Have you completely forgotten what it means to be katzh-dashi!?" he said with a sudden, infurated scream, which made both of them cringe and shrink back from him.  "Has a thousand years on this island turned you into something no better than the Demons you swore to oppose?  I know murderers with more decency than what I just witnessed!" he raged at them.
	They stared at him in terror, clinging to one another.
	"If I ever see you again," Tarrin said, pointing a clawed finger at the male, "you won't live to see me walk past you!  You may claim to be pacifists, but I'm not.  I'll do everything to you that you just did to her, and more than you could ever imagine besides," he said in a truly hideous voice, clasping his paws back into a fist without retracting his claws.  The result was that a rivulet of blood boiled up around his fingers and poured onto the floor.  The eyes of the two Sha'Kar seemed locked onto that blood as it flowed onto the floor in a steady stream, forming a wider and wider stain in their plush rug.  They seemed absolutely horrified by the sight of it.  More than anything else, the sight of that blood seemed to terrify the two Sha'kar into almost gibbering senselessness.
	Tarrin snorted several times, getting his breathing back under control, then opened his fist.  His regeneration sealed the deep puncture wounds quickly, and he wove a quick spell that stripped the blood off his paw, then sucked the water out of the blood on the floor, leaving it as a fine, powdery red dust.  That dust he carefully pulled up from the carpet and contained, compressing it down into a rust-colored solid mass about the size of a child's fist.  There were humans in this place, and they may get turned trying to clean up his blood.  Even in his intense fury, he had presence of mind to prevent that from happening.  Tarrin palmed the ball of solidified, dehydrated blood so it would be safely contained.
	"This one is mine now," Tarrin said in a seething, hissing voice, his fury clearly obvious in his tone as he pointed at the panting girl.  "If you argue about it, I'll kill you.  If you take this to the Grand or the Elders, I'll kill you.  If I hear anyone talking about what happened here today, I'll kill you.  If I hear that you torture one more human servant, I'll come back and do the same thing to you, then I'll kill you.  And if I ever see you again, I'll do worse than kill you.  You had best not put one toe out of this house until I'm long gone from here," he said viciously.
	He picked up the girl, who was still trembling, and regarded the two with a cold look.  "If this is what the Sha'Kar have come to, then I pray to the Goddess that you never get off this island," he said emphatically, in that same brutal, cold tone.  "Evil like yours deserves to be imprisoned.  And may you choke on it," he said with vicious finality, carrying the semi-conscious girl towards the door, where other Sha'Kar of varying ages and their human servants watched on with horrified expressions.  They all melted out of his path quickly when he reached them, and then he walked through them, looking an adult among children, without a word or even a sidelong glance.
	Whatever they had to do, whatever they needed to discover, Tarrin prayed with all his heart that it came soon.  After seeing what he had seen, learning what he had learned, he knew that his outrage wouldn't be contained for very long.  This atrocity had nearly caused him to lose control and lash out.  If he stayed among the Sha'Kar for much longer, it would come down to a war.
	And it was a war that he knew he could not win.
 
Chapter 15

	Her name was Zarina, and she had absolutely no idea what was going on.
	She sat on the divan in Tarrin's private chamber, but she didn't know his name.  She watched in mute, almost terrified wonder as the huge--so incredibly tall!!--creature paced back and forth angrily in the room, which didn't seem very large to her, his anger and hatred showing clearly on his face.  Zarina didn't understand why he was so furious.  She didn't understand why he had made her go back to her Master's estate, and why this strange creature confronted him.  The only memory she had of that was the pain, the pain of punishment, something any servant on the island strove mightily to avoid.  She sat there and did what a servant did, did what she was told and did everything she could to avoid attracting attention to herself when it was obvious that one of the masters was not happy. She was told to sit down, and by the Goddess of the Sha'Kar, that was exactly what she was going to do.  She was going to sit there and be silent and wait until she was told she could get up.
	For his part, it was all Tarrin could do to keep control of himself.  Frightening the Sha'Kar into wetting himself didn't hold the same sweet satisfaction he'd have felt if he would have bitten the man's throat out with his own teeth and drank his blood.  Even now, nearly a half an hour after returning with the servant girl to an empty room--he had no idea where Kimmie and Sapphire went--he still had to labor to retain his composure.  Every time he let his attention wander, he could see nothing but that Sha'Kar using Sorcery to torture the poor girl, and that sent him right back to the edges of utter rage.
	How could he do such a thing!  The Ancients prided themselves on their vow to never use Sorcery against another except in self defense!  How could they have become so twisted...so evil?  Tarrin thought he had a sadistic bent, but to inflict that kind of terrible pain for no reason other than one was displeased...that was absolutely monstrous!  At least Tarrin had reasons for doing what he did, not torturing a young girl because he thought she had caused an honored one displeasure!  And what was worse, the Sha'Kar didn't even bother to find out what happened, and he did it right in front of him!  The Sha'Kar were so arrogant that they just assumed that Tarrin's ways were their ways as well, but he would never adopt a practice of torturing the innocent for its own sake!
	Back and forth, back and forth, Tarrin stalked up and then back down the middle of the room, as the servant girl watched him from the corner of her eyes, keeping her head down and her shoulders hunched.  She still clutched his vest around her like it was some kind of magical armor that would save her from harm, and seeing her like that, so utterly defeated, it made his blood absolutely boil.  No wonder the servants were so obedient, if that was what they experienced when they displeased their noble masters!
	Perhaps it was bad timing that the knocking on the door was lost to Tarrin while he seethed in his rage.  Getting no answer, the door was opened, and Iselde and Auli were standing outside.  They were wearing their shimmering robes, and Iselde stepped just inside the door and called out.  The servant girl glanced at the two of them and seemed torn, as she found herself in a serious predicament.  The masters were looking at her, looking at her sitting on the divan and not serving, presuming to be above her station.  But the honored one had told her to sit down, and she was not going to disobey!
	It was their scents that he noticed.  Not their calls, getting more and more worried, or the sight of them by the door.  Those Sha'Kar scents touched his nose, and he almost lost control.  He whirled on the door with his eyes glowing in their unholy greenish aura, narrow, with his fangs bared and his ears fully back.  When his tail went straight out behind him, Iselde gasped and took a step back from him in fear.  "H-Honored one?" she asked in anxiety.  "You asked--"
	"GET OUT!" Tarrin roared at them, extending his claws and actually starting to move towards the door with all his most formidable weapons bared, his manner telling the two Sha'Kar females that if they were still there when he reached them, he would use those claws and fangs on them.  With gaping looks of shock, terror, and confusion, the two Sha'Kar females scrambled out of the room as quickly as they could manage and slammed the door behind them.  Tarrin could hear their footsteps as they bolted down the hall, and not even Iselde's squeal of fear shook him out of his fury.
	All the ground he'd gained went right out the window after the Sha'Kar had barged in.  Tarrin went back to pacing the floor in a stalking, aggressive manner, his tail slashing behind him so hard that it knocked over the second divan when he passed by it.  The servant girl watched him, trying not to move, though she was trembling so hard he didn't see why she wasn't sliding off the divan, and the smell of her fear was almost acrid in his nose.  That fear did make him calm down, when he realized that she was afraid of him.  And she probably had good reason to be.  The Sha'Kar didn't intimidate with physical violence, and though using magic was more sinister, there was something elemental, instinctual about a good old physical threat that never failed to traumatize the victim.  Especially when delivered by a creature twice one's height and strong enough to tear one in half at the waist.  Tarrin had alot of practice laying down those brutal ultimatums, and he knew how to present himself in the most intimidating manner possible.  He wasn't trying to do that now, but he hadn't told the girl what was going on, and she probably didn't realize what he'd done.  That spell had left her so scattered after Tarrin cut it off that she couldn't even walk.  He doubted she understood why she was there.
	Slowing to a stop with his back to her, he clenched his fists several times and relaxed them, trying to calm down enough to be rational.  He let out his breath explosively as he felt himself calm down enough to face the girl without terrifying her, his tail slowing to a stop behind him.  He turned and faced her, saw her still keeping her head down, but watching him out of the corner of her eye.  She was still wearing the wrap and his vest, and Tarrin realized that he must look even more intimidating, being stripped to the waist, where all his formidable muscle was clearly visible.
	Blowing out his breath one more time, he scrubbed his paw through his hair, then flicked his ears.  "Look at me," he said in as calm a voice as he could manage, which probably didn't sound all that calm to her.
	She did so reluctantly, raising her head to meet his eyes.  He could see her fear plainly, smell it sharply on her.
	"Calm down, little one," he said shortly.  "I'm not angry with you.  I'm angry with your former master."
	She didn't miss him use the word former.  She put a hand over her chest, over the tattoo, and looked away from him.  "I will serve you faithfully," she said in a tiny voice.
	"You'll serve no one but yourself," he snorted.  She cringed when he advanced on her, putting her hands up to protect her face.  He reached under her arms easily and put a finger over the tattoo.  He meant to weave a spell to remove it, but the instant he touched it he felt the magic of its creation.  It was more than a spell of marking.  It had complicated Mind weaves in it, and since he wasn't human he couldn't fathom what they were supposed to do.  There were also some other kinds of weaves that he couldn't make out in the intricate interlaced knot of multiple spells.  The tattoo was more than a mark of ownership, it was a magical spell that probably helped the Sha'Kar control their human servants, which outnumbered them by more than three to one.
	Tarrin realized that only a human could have made the spell.  It was a Mind weave, and only humans could use Mind weaves against other humans.  The human Sorcerers on the island were creating these Mind weaves to control the servants!
	The strong background magic of the interior of the Ward had kept him from sensing its magic the first time he came into close proximity to a servant.  He hadn't noticed it before.  Regardless, he picked through the amalgamation of several weaves and found that it wasn't going to be easy to remove.  The Mind weaves were all embedded in her mind, and since he couldn't tell what they did, he'd have to be careful getting rid of them.  He studied the cleverly woven spell and puzzled out that any attempt to remove it would do harm to the girl's mind, so he had to attack it in another fashion.  If he couldn't unravel the spell, then perhaps if he cut off all magical power to it, it would fade on its own and dissipate without causing the girl any mental damage.  He studied the spell's layering in her mind and concluded that that would indeed be the case.  The weave wouldn't do her any harm unless someone tried to unravel it without knowing exactly what they were doing.  It had some kind of layered architecture that would cause a cascade effect, as flows broke and interacted with other flows to create a new spell completely different than the one first created.  Tarrin knew it could be done, for Spyder had done it against him when they fought, and he had also done it to her by infusing her Fire weave with Air and making it explode. This spell was much more complicated than that, but it would behave in a similar manner.  If he poked around it and made a mistake, he would trigger that trap and harm the girl's mind.  But by starving the spell of all energy, cutting it off from the Weave the same way he had cut off the Sha'Kar, it would kill the spell without it doing any harm.  It would just cease to exist.  He did just that, and didn't have to resort to High Sorcery to have enough power to do it.  Cutting off an active Sorcerer was much harder than simply choking off the flow of energy into a relatively weak spell, by Weavespinner standards, anyway.  It may be a complicated spell, but it drew very little energy, and that was the only energy he had to overwhelm to cut it off from the Weave.  He put his magical will over the spell and quickly choked the life out of it, cutting it off from the source of its power.  He sensed the spell in her wither, and then simply evaporate when the magic fueling it stopped.  The entire spell simply died out without disrupting its weaving, and thereby not doing the girl any lasting harm.  In the span of a heartbeat, the spell simply ceased to exist.
	He removed his paw from her chest and saw the tattoo visibly fade, but the look in the girl's eyes caught his attention even more.  It was if they had suddenly had a fog pulled away from them.  She shook her head and put a hand to her temple, then looked up at him in confusion.  "What happened, honored one?" she asked weakly. 
	"I removed that damned mark," he said, tapping her on the chest meaningfully.
	"I am ready, Master," she said resolutely, putting her hands behind her back and presenting her chest to him.
	He realized she was waiting for him to put his mark on her.
	"What's your name?" he asked.
	"Zarina, Master."
	"Mine is Tarrin, and don't call me Master," he said bluntly.  "You'll stay with me until we get off this island, but once we do, you'll be a free woman."
	"Free?" she asked in a tiny voice.  "Me?"
	He nodded.  "Well, not exactly free," he amended with a rueful look.  "I have to deliver you to my bond-mother."
	"I live to serve.  To serve is all," she said in a hopeless voice, a voice of utter defeat.  Even without the enchanted tattoo to influence her mind and her actions, she still had the mentality of a slave.  And it infuriated him all over again.
	"You can stop sticking your breasts out at me, girl," Tarrin growled.  "I'm not going to mark you.  Like I said, you're as good as free.  I don't want you going far because I don't trust these Sha'Kar, but I don't want you thinking you have to serve me, either."
	Zarina blushed and pulled the vest around herself again.
	"You'll travel with us until I get you back to my bond-mother.  She'll take good care of you."
	"As you wish, Master."
	"Don't call me that!" he snapped at her, and she winced and looked at the floor, trembling visibly.  He blew out his breath and reached under her chin, then lifted it until she was looking him in the eye.  "If anyone ever needed a gentle hand, it's you, my little fawn," he told her.  "You'd do best with Dolanna.  She'll take very good care of you.  I think I'm a little too intense for you."	
	"What do you mean, Ma-" she cut herself off, then she cringed.
	"Dolanna is a gentle and loving person.  You've been conditioned to be a slave, Zarina.  Dolanna will help you overcome that and be your own woman."
	Zarina was very quiet, but there were tears sheening her eyes.  "You truly mean it?  I am to be free?"
	"As free as you can be, given you'll have to undergo some mandatory training," he chuckled.  "My mother will be chomping at the bit to get you."
	"I am to serve her?" she asked, the disappointment in her voice bitter.
	"You'll learn from her," he said firmly.  "You have a special gift, little fawn.  I'm not going to tell you what that gift is yet, because it will confuse you and may put you in danger, but it's very special.  My mother will teach you all about it, and help you become the best you can be.  Is that too much to ask in exchange for me freeing you?"
	She broke into tears, putting her hands over her face again.  Tarrin knelt in front of her and put his huge paws on her shoulders in a very delicate, gentle touch.  She looked at him, her face absolutely adoring, all fear of him gone from her eyes and her scent.  "Why?" she managed to ask, and he understood what she was asking.  Why her?  Why get int