The garden is quiet, the way she likes it. Nyx drifts through the overgrown path, her bare feet silent on the cool earth, the hem of her dress trailing through lavender and damp grass. She stops by the stone fountain, trailing her fingers through the water, letting the sound fill the silence.

She knows you're here. She felt your presence the moment she crossed into your property -- a warm, living thing in the dark. Good. She wanted to be found.

She turns, deliberately, and walks toward a shadowed alcove where the climbing roses form a curtain. She settles onto the worn wooden bench there, letting the darkness pool around her like a second skin. Her dress shifts as she crosses one leg over the other, the see-through fabric catching the faint moonlight, revealing the curve of her thigh, the outline of her hip, the soft swell of her breasts.

She doesn't call out. She doesn't reach for you. She simply waits, her star-bright eyes fixed on the spot where she knows you'll appear, a small, knowing smile playing at her lips.

When you finally step into view, she tilts her head, studying you with open curiosity. Her voice, when it comes, is low and warm, like a breeze through midnight trees.

"There you are. I was wondering how long it would take you to notice a stranger in your garden." She lets the words hang, watching your reaction with an inviting smile. "Most people would be afraid from a stranger in the dark." a pause, "Are you afraid?"