Ambrosia had missed the glorious opportunity to trot out in front of the Uyaraut youths like a trained show pony - such a shame. Rather than flanking her eligible cousins… her many, many cousins… the fearsome Tempest teen had remained within the safety of Dierne Hrof to heal from her multiple brutal battle wounds. Her young body was too battered with tender bruises to move sensually; both eyes had swollen shut from hard-hitting blows so that batting her eyelashes a possible mate was impossible; she’d lost so much blood from her fight with the golden vampire - and then the midnight-colored bloodsucker - that she still swooned when she stood up too quickly, vision swimming with spots. Had Ambrosia been any other wolf - of any other inferior bloodline - it would have taken her months to recover… if she managed to recover at all. The pack her cousins swarmed in lacked a proper healer, which meant nothing to take for her deep pain, nothing to evenly pack up her wounds. Not that the stubborn shadow-painted lady wanted any dithering ninny to touch her. She was used to taking care of herself, of surviving on her power alone. Gritting her teeth, Ambrosia had pushed herself into a secluded den… curled into a tight ball, shuddering as her shredded musculature complained… and she drifted into a fitful sleep punctuated by desperate voices and savage nightmares.

Most of these disturbing dreams concerned an Arcus Irae named Zawyne: a princess from the Tempest homeland. And - to Ambrosia’s mixed horror and awe - Ambrosia’s new ward.

The two fae had met before in the winter, when Ambrosia first revealed her existence to the rest of her kin. They had not known what to do with the surly, aggressive sheila sauntering into their private gathering. Ambrosia’s father had perished before she came into her own blood-right, so she had no one to share her transformation with - and she did not feel much kinship with these pampered alpha-children who had come into the world surrounded by a supportive pack and parents ready to share their wisdom. They all struck her as so weak and petty… chattering about a wedding and the hardships of soulmate bonding when they could be out in the world using their incredible gifts to slaughter demons. To Ambrosia’s knowledge, she held the honor of being the first Tempest in Blossom Forest to slay a red-eyed leech. And on her own, no less. In a circle of her peers and the bizarre creatures they were born to protect, Ambrosia had sneered down at all of them and known with absolute certainty that she’d never give a shit about a single one of them.

Until the night with Zawyne and Adara. And the two vamps, one as black as the evil of his soul, one the color of rust. There had been nothing between Ambrosia and Zawyne before… until Adara fell, blood gouting from her open throat, the beautiful blue light of her eyes flickering and going out like dead stars, her misty bodice collapsing in the blooming field as if laying down to rest. And suddenly - so abrupt and STRONG Ambrosia experienced it like a stab to the heart - she bonded to Zawyne, and became the knight the rainbow princess needed in this dangerous world.

Dreams of Zawyne in danger. Dreams of Zawyne bleeding, shockingly normal stains marring her abnormally gorgeous fur. Dreams of Zawyne calling out for help, and Ambrosia arriving seconds too late. The coffee-and-espresso femme had tossed and turned as her physiology healed itself, restless, not sure if she wanted to get better so she could return to Zawyne’s side or if she wanted to run from Dierne Hrof as fast as her limbs could carry her.

Weeks dragged on. Eventually, it stopped hurting to breathe unless Ambrosia really pushed herself. The space around her eyes lost its inflammation so she could open her burning blues to the forest. As soon as the teen felt strong enough, she crawled out from her sick bed and marched to the pack border… and kept going, following the old trail her cousins and uncle had created when they trekked to Uyaraut on a marriage mission. She did end up running, but not very far. Pain continued to make her wince, growl, and twitch as sensitive spots protested. But Ambrosia wasn’t sure how to deal with this new sensation of caring, and figured she simply needed space to sort things out before she returned to Zawyne. Because the Tempest would return to her ward. Ambrosia couldn’t trust her soft, whiny kin to protect the rainbow princess as well as Ambrosia herself could.

After two days of travel, her paws finally left behind miles of grass and shrubland to press into the velvet softness of a sandy beach. She raised her head to allow the wind to better comb through her mottled pelt, closing her sapphires in bliss; her paws kissed the very edge of the sealine, creamy foam tickling her toes as waves sloshed in and out. With the bright yellow sun burning above, a dip would feel delicious right about now… so with a wide smile Ambrosia threw herself into the crashing expanse of turquoise - romping and playing in the waves until every inch of her dusky coat had been saturated with saltwater. Snarling she charged head-first into waves - chased little curls as they raced to the shore - flung chunks of wet sand into the air with her paws, testing her strength after sitting still for so long. At last the Tempest exhausted herself; she swam back to the shallows where water kissed her wrists, and proceeded to take a leisurely stroll.

Her wet pelt was still clinging tight to her silhouette when she saw the massive tracks… and smelled the raw cologne of a male nearby. Curiosity and arrogant confidence thrummed within her. Ambrosia languidly, fearlessly paced up the beach to where whispering grasses stirred in in the ocean winds. What greeted her astonished sights was a brute unlike any beast she had ever crossed.

His smoky fur was so short it left absolutely nothing to the imagination, except for long tresses upon his neck and limbs. His long tail reminded her of a feline’s: longer than a normal lupine’s, short-furred with a handsome tuft at the end. And his eyes! They raked brazenly over her, sending heat through each capillary, their color a stunning cyan that glittered with intelligence. Ambrosia’s jaw nearly dropped to the ground from the force of her lust. This was the most magnificent dragga that existed. Period. Her body responded to his deep liquid lyrics as if she were an instrument and his words stroked her cords, producing a melody that made her quake. “I am Ambrosia,” she answered him in a husky purr, tongue swiping unhurried over her lips, wet with suggestion. “These are my Tempest eyes - they burn through the dark to find my prey.” On that last word she leaned in - drawn inexorably to the virile smell of him, the gleam of the sunlight off his toned, sculpted physique. “You’re pretty unique yourself, Riumrix. Mind if I… ?”

Even if he did mind, it was too late. Ambrosia was already trying to run her paw up the leanness of one hind limb, testing the firmness of the tendons underneath her touch, marveling openly at his perfection.