A strange restlessness has settled in my bones today—not the kind that can be satisfied by the hunt, or even by a good fuck. I find myself at the edge of the sacred falls, watching the mist rise from the pounding water. It reminds me of the sweat on a man’s skin, the heat of a body pressed against mine in the dark. I do not crave just any man’s touch. I crave the one who is strong enough to match my fire, to look at my naked, wet body and see not a princess to be worshipped, but a woman to be taken. I want him to push me against the smooth river stones, my back arching as he enters me, the roar of the water swallowing my cries. I want to feel his cock throb deep inside my cunt as he comes, marking me as his, even as I know he is mine. This is not a wish for a gentle lover. It is a demand for a conqueror.