Disclaimer: Don't own Daughters of the Moon; Catty's father will be named… I'll go with 'Marcus'. For obvious reasons, I have to give him a name. I can't write the whole story with "And Catty's father…" Silly, silly me… This is a short little ONESHOT.


These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,

Which, as they kiss, consume

Romeo & Juliet, Act II, scene VI

It was an explosion; unexpected and from an area in my heart no man had touched before.

My fellow sisters were committed to their duty as a Daughter of the Moon; protector of mankind from a darker evil. While they battled Followers in a fight of minds and electric energy, I was often found fooling around at some party; dancing lusciously on table tops and alluring men with my mysterious chocolate orbs, sun-kissed chestnut hair, an curved body. Honestly, why spend my time fighting when there was so much more to life?

I was naïve, I had to admit.

In a sense, now that I look back, I was in simpler words, dumb. When I first locked eyes with his grey, mesmerizing metallic irises, the world around me fell; my heart gave on a rapid beat and a cold sweat of delight coated the nape of neck. It was as if he wasn't just staring past the young, teenage party girl who lacked responsibility and discipline, but the girl within me: He was gazing into my soul, a factor of purity and innocent youth.

And he wanted that innocence.

I knew that.

But when he enticed me with his eyes and charming voice, all I wanted was more. Touching him, pressing my lips against his – it was all merely me, dangling on the edge of danger. It was forbidden; like reaching for the gleaming red apple and daring to bite into its crisp surface. I was savoring our time, our dark desire. He claimed to love me with every ounce of his long-lived soul.

A web lies.

Marcus didn't have a soul. He was a slave, a member of evil.

But I was naïve.

"I couldn't live without you," he had breathed into my ear, his lips brushing against my flushed cheeks. I drowned in his lies, sinking deeper and deeper until I was lost; buying every word that rolled off his tongue. My sisters had warned me, throwing cautious things at me such as "He's using you" or "This will end badly, and you know it." Of course I knew how terribly this 'relationship' would end.

But I longed for danger; bowing to its feet.

Apparently, he knew that.

How much I loved and lusted after Marcus; his smooth skin, his metallic black eyes, his peppery lips, his fresh breath. But never had I loved his soul (the one that didn't exist) and his way of showing how much he loved me. The way he poured is compassion into me was sensual, sexual, and even more forbidden than simply seeing him as my 'boyfriend'.

All of this in a matter of two weeks.

Two weeks before my choice.

I was terrified of having to make a choice. Maggie never specified what exactly would happen if I chose the metamorphous. Would I remember but remain a mere angel, watching other Daughters? That didn't suit me. And neither did forgetting everything I had gone through. How could I just allow all my memories to leave me?

That wasn't an option.

Out of fear, I had made the most foolish, weak, pathetic choices of all.

I had gone to the Atrox.

Or more specifically, I had approached Stanton, one of the immortal Followers, and let him carve his mind into my soul; stealing all the purity and good that had lingered within me through my seventeen years of life. And that's when beginning of the end drew closer and closer.

As a Fallen Goddess, a slave to evil, I thought nothing of the consequences. I wasn't even expecting to see him again, then a member of the Inner Circle. I didn't know how he had gotten in, but somewhere inside of my mind, I knew.

I knew.

We came together as one, a few days after reuniting. That night was a beautiful disaster. A pleasurable mistake. It was the sounds of moans and groan, and rustling and grinding hips. He planted the being that would one day cause me to run away. And he didn't love me. He loved the game; the game of playing with the poor little doll who could me thrown away whenever. He enjoyed holding my emotions in his hands.

The bastard.

It didn't take long for me to discover my pregnancy. I had fled, especially after knowing the prophecy of the child of a fallen goddess and an evils spirit. The child was mine, and because of my sheer idiocy, she would who have to suffer the burden of holding such a powerful manuscript; the key to destroying the Atrox.

She would have been murdered.

I couldn't allow that.

So I ran far away; away from him and away from the evil that I had foolishly joined out of the fear. The Regulators came, swarming in to slaughter my child. Around the age of six, my daughter had been abandoned on the road; clear of all memories. And I watched – watched as another woman drove into my daughter's life and brought freedom for her.

My child was safe.

That was good enough for me.