Ok, this is my first foray into fanfiction. I've written some stuff over at fictionpress (under the same name), so I'd really like some feedback. However, flames will be used to heat my house this winter. Hope you like!

Rain pelted the windows of my loft apartment, beating an erratic rhythm into the stillness of the air. I threw down my coat and umbrella, peeling off layers of sodden wool and cotton from my skin. Today just hadn't been my day. First, I was laid off; next, I was mugged on the way home; and last, but not least, Mr. Cozy from down the hall had tried to feel me up in the elevator yet again. The rain pretty much matched my mood at this point.

I picked my way through my apartment, carefully avoiding the palettes of paint and drying canvases as I went, until I reached my bathroom. The light clicked on, and after a few sporadic bursts, settled into a lazy hum of florescence. My reflection in the mirror only served to further dim my mood. My hair was a riotous mess of waves and clumped curls, sticking to my face at odd angles. My mascara had run clear down my cheeks, leaving me looking like a panda, except not half as cute. And my lip was bleeding from the blow the muggers had given me earlier. I smirked a little, I'd hit the little bugger with my purse and spraying him with the pepper spray my mother had given me when I'd moved into the city.

Quickly, I stripped myself of the last vestiges of my clothing and turned on the taps to the bath. Steamy tendrils of warmth swirled endlessly throughout the bathroom, calming my frazzled nerves and allowing me to relax for the first time in what felt like forever.

As I soaked in the tub, washing away the grime of the day, I pushed all thoughts of my luck aside. I would find another job, get a better apartment, and eventually save enough money to buy a house out in the 'burbs. All I needed to do was keep a positive attitude. I sighed, it was better said than done. Life in the city was fast paced, and competitive—something I most definitely was not. I much preferred the slow and steady way of life, working with the grain instead of struggling against it.

Feeling myself begin to drift into sleep, I pulled the stopper and climbed out. Too tired to properly dress myself, I forwent my regular pajamas and slid between the sheets, reveling in the feel of my skin sliding against the fabric with no barrier to counteract the sensation.

I'm not sure how long I slept, it could have been minutes, or hours, but a sudden crashing noise brought me violently out of sleep and into the waking world. I shoved myself out of bed and onto the floor, tangling myself in the blankets. Wincing at the sharp pain in my knees and elbows, I righted myself. Standing as silently as I could muster and wrapping a sheet around my body, I gingerly made my way to my door and looked through the peephole. The hallway was dark, darker than I could ever remember it being. Whatever had caused the crash obviously had also knocked out the power supply.

I wrapped my hand around the deadbolt and turned it, the soft clicking sounding loud against the utter silence permeating from outside. The knob turned smoothly, the door opening without a squeak. I peered outwards to the left, then to the right. The hallway was vacant, and very dark. My stomach quivered, shaking with anticipation. What was that noise, and why had no one else heard it? It certainly seemed excruciatingly loud from where I was sleeping. And yet, none of my neighbors had ventured outside to investigate.

The whole situation seemed like a bad horror movie, and I definitely felt like the character people yelled at to get back inside. Shaking off the chill that had crept down my spine, settling in my lower back, I took a step backwards into my apartment. The door shut with a finality that echoed in the shaking of my hand. I turned the lock and used the chain-lock just in case. I sighed and leaned against the door. Everything was okay; there was nothing to be worried about.

Satisfied with my own safety, I turned to return to bed, only to be faced with the broad expanse of a body caging me against the wood of the door. I let out a half-startled scream and ducked to bolt around my obstacle. Arms much stronger than they looked wrapped firmly around my torso, locking me in place and preventing any further movement. A scream formed in my throat only to be blocked by a hand enclosing my mouth and jerking my head back to rest below the chin of my assailant. I wrestled with him—I could only assume he was male due to the shape of the body pressing against me—jerking my limbs without much success. As a last resort, I opened my mouth, clenching my teeth around two of his fingers, biting as hard as I could.

He yelped in pain, giving me a strange sense of satisfaction, but it was short lived. That same hand reached around and turned me to lean against the door, a rough forearm pressing against my clavicle. It was then that I got a clear look at my attacker. He stood almost a foot taller than me, his eyes gazing down at me with an eerie, orange glow. His pale skin almost shimmered in the moonlight, strange scars dancing across the bridge of his nose and over his forehead. Hair of the palest silver hung down past his shoulders, creating a curtain of white around our faces. He was breathing hard through his nose, obviously trying to control his temper. A clenched hand lay a little too close to my cheek.

I pressed away from him, trying to push through the wood of the door and into the hall behind me. The sheet I once wore was clenched desperately between my naked thighs. I couldn't reach it for fear of drawing his attention to my lack of clothing, instead, I held his gaze. Even that action was beginning to become troublesome. His face seemed to hold every possible emotion and none at all. It contorted this way and that, raging and passive, curious and irritable. This oscillation only seemed to unsettle my already shaking body, eventually forcing me to relinquish the task and stare idly at the ground. Absently, I wondered why he hadn't hit me yet, hadn't tried to force me into the bedroom, hadn't tried to do a thousand other evil things that ran through my mind.

I flinched when he released the pressure on my chest, sucking in a full breath of air as if it were my last. I flinched yet again when he knelt down and grasped the wrinkled edges of the sheet, pulling it from around my legs. Oh, God, he was going to rape me! Utterly still with fear, I waited with closed eyes for him to shove my legs apart.

He didn't touch my legs. In fact, he didn't touch any part that would have been obscene had I been wearing clothes. Hands that had held me so roughly in place were suddenly gentle, sliding behind my shoulder blades to wrap the sheet around my body, securing it with my own clenched hands. I opened my eyes, shocked, only to find him smiling—no, smirking—at me. So, he thought scaring the holy hell out of me was funny, did he? Well, I'd show him.

Remembering the dozens of self-defense classes I'd taken in preparation for moving to the city, I stomped on his toe, and shoved the heel of my palm into his diaphragm. It had the desired effect; he leaned forward and into my strike. As he was trying to catch his breath, I shuffled to the side and rushed around towards the bedroom.

He caught up with me, of course, but it was worth a shot nonetheless. The force of his body impacting with mine sent me to the floor, and into a puddle of miscellaneous paints. We rolled several times; I could feel the paint sticking to my legs, my hair. Eventually he pinned me, using the natural weight of his body to keep me in place. "You are a feisty one, aren't you?" He said, his lips settling next to my ear. A light shiver of fear and something I wasn't prepared to name traveled deftly throughout my body, causing me to shift uneasily against him. His silver-white hair was now dotted with red and blues, a smear of green darting across his cheek. I couldn't help it, really, I'm known for laughing in inappropriate situations—what I like to call the 'church giggles'. The laugh built in my chest until it pushed past my tightly pressed lips. He looked ridiculous, and I'm sure I did as well.

I could tell that my sporadic burst of mirth had unnerved him; he stared at me in puzzlement before a small smile glided across his face, transforming what was usually a stern countenance into something that could almost be called ethereal. My laugh died in my throat. Quite suddenly I was very aware of every point in which my body touched his, and that I was mostly naked beneath it. He seemed to come to the same realization, but instead of lifting off me, as any gentleman would do, he merely adjusted himself to sit more comfortably between my outstretched legs, resting on his elbows. "I am Nuada," he said softly.

Unable to truly come up with something to say, I merely nodded, "I'm Kara Sullivan, um, Sully for short." The expression must have confused him; a small wrinkle of concentration marred the smoothness of his forehead.

"For short?" He asked.

"It's a nickname. You know, something that people who are familiar with you say. My friends call me Sully." I mentally slapped myself for the breathiness of my voice, but who could blame me. Not only was Nuada unmistakably handsome, he was also cutting off my air supply.

A movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. Something large and lumbering made its way out of my bedroom, stepping slowly into the moonlight. A small gasp of fear jumped from my mouth, and I tried to skitter away. Only Nuada's firm grip on my shoulders held me in place. "Forgive me for not introducing you earlier. Kara, this is Wink. He is a good friend." Shifting onto his side, Nuada brought my to rest against his chest, facing the big thing called Wink. I struggled to keep the sheet covering the important parts, but only served in unclothing my back. "Wink, this is Kara… and I believe she is the other half of my, shall I say, heart?" He chuckled, the brushing of his clothing (it had to be silk) sending delightful little tickles down the length of my back all the way down to the balls of my feet. Wink made a series of grunts that I could only assume was his language. "Yes," Nuada said slowly, a hint of scorn surfacing in the undertones of his voice, "The irony is not lost on me, Wink. I am well aware of what she is."

After having had enough of this whole mess, I struggled to turn in Nuada's arms, fixing him with the fiercest glare I could muster, "Look, buddy, I don't know what your deal is, but you can't just break into someone's home, hold them against their will, and expect everything to be dandy, okay? Gosh, what the hell are you talking about anyways?" I lifted a finger to point towards Wink, "And don't even get me started on him."

Wink took a menacing step forward, lifting what looked like a metal arm high into the air. I squawked in fear, burrowing closer into Nuada's chest before thinking better of it and rolling outward, dragging the sheet along with me. I quickly secured the sheet around my chest and glared at the intruders. "Someone better tell me what the hell is going on, or I'm calling the cops! Matter of fact, I think I'll do that anyways." I stomped over to the phone and prepared to scream bloody murder until someone was forced to come out here. About halfway into 9-1-1, Nuada's hand covered my own, dwarfing it against the plastic of the phone. "I mean you no harm. In fact, I do not believe I could harm you even if I tried. You are the only human who can say that," his voice took on a steely edge that sliced through my resistance.

"What about him?" I asked, nodding to the strange creature now leaning against the support beam of my loft.

Nuada smiled, "He follows my command, he will not harm you." The sincerity in his voice rang through, putting my doubts to rest. I replaced the phone to its cradle.

"Okay, so… can you guys go now, I kind of have a big day of job-hunting to do tomorrow and it just wont look good if I show up half asleep." I tried to smile, but it felt forced, unnatural. I wound up backing away slowly, so as not to startle them.

Nuada crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, "You're afraid of me," he said, the orange sparkle in his eyes showing much more than mischief.

"Uh, yeah, its not everyday that a girl gets thrown around by a six-foot tall, pale man and his troll-like guard dog." By now, my temper had flared; causing the frustration that had been suppressed by shock to bubble over.

"I am not a man," Nuada said slowly, derisively. "I am Nuada Silverlance, Prince of the Unseen Kingdom, heir to its throne. You insult me by referring to me as something so low as Man." His stance hadn't changed but his aura seemed to emanate a vicious anger that flared off in waves, heating my skin and causing the hair of my neck to rise. Obviously, he had a few screws loose. Why are the hot ones always insane?

We stood in silence for a few minutes, examining each other as if preparing for a fight. His gaze flicked over my body, before resting on my face. His body jerked into action so quickly that I jumped back, almost tripping over one of my paintings. A pale hand grasped my chin, turning my head upwards, "I did not cause this wound," he said, anger seeping carefully into his voice. I jerked my chin away from him only to have it framed by two strong hands keeping me gently, but firmly, in place. "Who has done this?" The fierce glow of his unnatural gaze held me—a deer in headlights.

"Look," I said, both oddly pleased and kind of freaked out by his concern, "I don't know who hit me. I got mugged on the way home. They took my cash and cell, but I'm pretty sure they'll be washing out their eyes for days." Nuada's face was as stone, fixed in a look that drifted miles away, as if trying to remember something.

Golden strands of hair slid forward over his shoulder as he leaned towards me, "May I?" he whispered, and before I could answer he slid his lips along my own, gently encapsulating the wounds. Too shocked to do anything but gape, I felt his tongue probe gently along the wound, the sharp sting jetting quickly forward and then receding in sensation. A warmth that left me feeling like melted chocolate, drifting slowly in and out of a foggy haze, replaced it.

It wasn't until he pulled away that I realized that I'd involuntarily closed my eyes, wanting to savor the feel of his skin against my own. Nuada grazed my lip with his thumb, satisfaction showing clearly in his expression. "You are tired," he said, leaning down to lift me in his arms.

"No, duh," I replied sleepily, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and resting my cheek in the crook of his neck. I felt more than heard him chuckle as he laid my body on my bed. The wretched sheet I'd been wrestling with all night was adjusted to cover me securely, my comforter followed soon after.

"Rest well, dear heart, I will see you soon," was the last thing I heard as I drifted back to sleep.