I do apologize for my unexpected two month hiatus. March Madness turned out to be a bit insane, and I had to catch up on all the Lost Girl I missed. I sort of hate the Norn Rash story line from the series. So I'll probably ignore it. Thank you for still following the story, and hopefully I'll get back on a quicker post schedule.

Dyson has taken to avoiding Kenzi. It's the only way he knows to preserve his sanity. She's his friend, and he doesn't want to ruin that with errant lust.

He buries himself in work, but he's found it so hard to sleep. If Hale had still been around, he probably would've been confused, but Tamisin just smirks and hands him another coffee. He would say she understood, but he's not sure what there is to understand.

He hates being in the dark about his own body. He's a detective and a wolf, and he feels powerless to whatever is going on, to his sudden attraction to Kenzi. The mere thought of her skin, or her scent, is enough to drive him wild with need.

When Bo calls him one morning and asks him to come over to the clubhouse, he agrees, hoping that Kenzi has taken up with some bass player boyfriend and will be out of the house. Bo says' it's urgent, something about a murdered human in an underground boxing ring. Dyson rubs his eyes as he enters the building when he hears it.

It's a soft, lilting sound. He's unsure that he could hear it if he had only been human. The sound is sweet—innocent. It's as if it surrounds him, and all he can do is think about how beautiful it is. It reminds him of childhood, of a time he can no longer even remember, when his mother would braid their hair and sing to them in Gaelic, holding the youngest to her breast and softly soothing the others to sleep. It's a sound that is a memory, and it's full of life and hope.

He leaned back against the wall of the clubhouse entrance, unable to move.

It's singing, he realizes. But not like Hale's siren call. It's simply the power of the human voice, soft and sweet. He tries to catch the words in the song, tries to figure out why it sounds so familiar, but it's not a language he knows.

He shudders as Kenzi's scent wraps around him, and if he was any weaker, his control would've snapped there. He remembers the white softness of her skin, thick with her scent. He can imagine her kisses, the softness of her body against his, her sweet voice begging.

Bo's voice breaks his reverie, and he realizes that he's still slouched against the wall.

"Dyson, are you alright?" She asks.

"Yeah." He tries to brush her concern off. "I just haven't been sleeping." She leads him upstairs into the club house and into the kitchen. Kenzi is sitting on the couch with a magazine and perks up when Dyson walks in.

"D'man, how's it hanging?" She asks, and looks confused when he smiles weakly in reply.

"You sir, need the healing powers of coffee." Kenzi starts up a pot of coffee and leans against the counter watching as Bo lays out the case for Dyson.

He tries to concentrate, but Kenzi is wearing a low cut top that accents the top of her chest, and when her hair swings, her scent is so much stronger. He manages to get the gist of the case, and grabs the file so he can read it somewhere less distracting. Kenzi passes him a cup of coffee, which he downs quickly.

Dyson turns to leave, and he can feel their eyes on him. They're worried, but it's not their problem.

"Kenzi." He asks, his back still to them. "What were you singing?"

He can feel her embarrassment and wishes she didn't ask. It was clearly private, and he feels like he has intruded on something personal.

"Um, forgot about your wolf ears." She pauses. "It's some Russian lullaby my grandmother would sing to me when I was little and back in the home country."
"It was beautiful." Dyson whispered, leaving the clubhouse as quickly as he could manage.

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