The sweat of his skin mingled with the blood in his veins, a salty concoction made Natasha's taste buds dance.

It meant hard work mixed with hard passion.

The man, who's name the Daeva would never know, had been on his late night run when Natasha had caught his eye.

The rest, as they say, was history.

He wasn't exactly Natasha's usual sort, his muscles not busting out of his shirt but his body was lean and devoid of fat and if there one thing the Daeva hated, it was a mortal who let himself go.

Sure, Eskimos need fat but we're in California, she thought as the precious fluid trickled down her throat and made the cat purr. Bodies are temples, after all, especially with Arnie in charge.

Finally sated, at least for another night, Natasha left the runner to continue his route, a lasting memory of a close encounter with a girl completely out of his league.

Maybe he'd try the same route again, just in case. Hell, maybe Natasha would indulge him his passion.