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With a malicious smile, she dropped her weapons and snaked one hand around his neck to his shoulder. Her left knee traced a delicious line up his his leg, then slipped around his thigh. The female fighters closed their circle as their leader wrapped herself around the stranger. With her free hand, she untied a small knot at the small of her back and the golden loin patch fell to the ground.
“You are vrykolakas,” she whispered into his ear, nipping him once again, this time drawing a bead of blood. She leaned her head back, her graceful neck curving upward toward the rising sun.
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