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Sasja had been watching him for quite some time.

He had a darkness in him that called to her. They'd first dallied when they'd been younger and starry-eyed, and he'd changed since then. Then again, so had she. Such was life, Sasja supposed, but that didn't mean that she was finished with him.

She wasn't. Not by any means. He complimented her far too well.

He didn't know she watched him. There was something beautiful about the pride that gleamed bright in his eyes, the arrogant swagger with which he walked. It was something she should like to watch dim, something that she would enjoy crushing beneath her paw - for no reason other than she could.

Bruten hated feeling as though he was being watched. His hackles rose as he strode through the pride, and he flicked an ear as he paused to glance around. He knew she was out there, watching him - no matter how sneaky she thought she was being, how well she hid herself.

Sasja was out there. He could sense it.

Deep down Bruten knew they were bound to one another. Yakuti was the wise political move to make. Sasja was a merging of souls, an intimate and mutual destruction of one another. It was disgusting and thrilling at the same time.

He could smell her.

Ah, there it was. That falter in his step. He knew she was there. Those eyes of his, those strong muscles moving silkily beneath his midnight fur. He was not a handsome lion, not by any stretch of the imagination - but he was powerful and conniving and dark and ugly and Sasja loved it as much as one as broken and twisted as Sasja could love anything.

She moved towards him, skirting around a large family den before she paused to watch him again. His scent was strong on the breeze, and Sasja inhaled almost joyfully, teeth bared.

Cat and mouse.

Bruten saw a swift flash of pale white, and he turned just in time to miss it. Sasja. He did not approach her. This was the game. Predator and prey - except he was not certain who, exactly, was who. He liked to think of her as prey, but sometimes he wondered if he was merely fooling himself.

She was dangerous. Amorphous. A chameleon, able to shift herself to fit any given situation. Bruten knew he was one of the few in the pride who had seen the real lioness within, and he considered it a privilege.

He stood where he was, waiting. To do anything else - especially to give chase - would be foolish.

Bruten did not consider himself to be a foolish lion.

She did not move for a long time. Sasja merely watched him and thought how dearly she'd like to cast the stars from his eyes, to pull him open and tinker about, to see what he was really made of. The facade he presented to the pride was a lovely one, but she knew it for what it was. A monster knew a monster, and Bruten was not a kind lion.

Her thoughts flickered briefly to Sjurd, and Sasja smiled darkly to herself.

Slipping into view, Sasja paused and watched Bruten from afar, that same dark smile flickering across her muzzle.

Come to me, her posture demanded.

The game she proposed was dangerous, but Bruten felt anticipation curl in his stomach. He was betrothed, yes, but this was different. In this game, they were gods, and mere mortals could not touch them. It was freeing, in a strange sort of way, not to have to pretend for the sake of pretending. It was exciting to have a willing participant in someone that was ugly and broken wrapped in a pretty package.

The way she stood there, beautiful and silent, an unspoken demand in her eyes, on her body.

He did not move. Not yet. The battle of wills. Who would give in first?

Deep, deep down, Bruten knew it would be him.

Sasja's smile grew a little wicked, and she bared her teeth in something that could hardly be considered a smile. They'd yet to speak a word to one another, and that was the way that Sasja preferred it. It was simpler that way. Words complicated things that were easier spoken with tooth and claw and blood. There could be no misunderstanding when things were so simple.

Sasja lifted her chin a little higher and flicked her tail. She took a step back, shadows shrouding her. He would follow.

He always had. He always would.

She cared nothing for the female he was betrothed to.

Yakuti was nothing.

Sasja was everything.

Bruten gnashed his teeth, baring them in the direction that Sasja had disappeared. He took one step after her, and then another, and another. It was almost as if he couldn't help himself - and honestly, he couldn't.

There was no undoing the commitments he'd made, but he was not married yet. Soon, but not yet.

As the shadows swallowed him up, Bruten caught the glint of claws. He did not back away as they moved towards him; instead, he let them sink into his shoulder - exactly where Yakuti had bitten him days past.

Bruten watched Sasja carefully. He wasn't sure how she knew, but she did. A wrong step now meant that he'd lost. The precipice loomed, but Bruten was not afraid of death.

The scent of his blood was a cloyingly addictive scent. Bruten had already lost the game, not that he'd ever realize it. Her power over him was far too great, and he was too foolish to see it. Sasja didn't care, truthfully. When she tired of him, she would kill him one way or another. It was lucky for him that she was not yet bored, that he still thrilled her, that the scent of his blood still ignited a spark.

Words were unnecessary. She saw that he understood what she was doing. She was marking him where he'd been marked by another.

Digging her claws into his shoulder, Sasja did not stop until her paw was damp with blood. Only then did she pull away to lick her paw clean, pale blue eyes never leaving his.

Bruten did, indeed, know what Sasja was doing. It was thrilling, darkly so. The pain was sharp and intense. Stars blurred his vision, but he did not pull away. He would not give in, and he would not back down. Bruten knew he had to hold his own with the female. To do anything else meant to admit defeat.

Words were meaningless between them.

Bruten watched the lioness clean away his life's blood from her pale fur, and the meaning was not lost on him. She'd won. She'd always win. It both infuriated him and excited him.

Bruten did not move after Sasja when she moved away from him. There was a black smile on her pinkened muzzle, and she disappeared as quickly as she'd appeared. Bruten released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Sasja.