It works for her, and she loves it.

Because, as well as protecting her steel-clad heart from the fragile grip of love, and as well as ensuring she never weakens herself by fawning around for a man's affection, it also means her lovers can never be used against her. If she ever did piss off a God, or even a particularly vengeful mortal, she never has to worry about them seizing her mate to blackmail her with. She could march into battle with the same iron-hard determination that she always has, caring not a jot if her enemy harms her kidnapped lover because, after all, he is a sperm donor and nothing more. A dick, helpfully attached to a pair of legs and a beating heart. Sure, she would do her level best to free him, but it certainly wouldn't control her mind during the important business of war. Of course, they could take her children, and like any mother she would move heaven and earth to get them back, but she would also be safe in the knowledge that her offspring had the strongest bloodlines possible, due to her mate selection.

So, as well as being intrisically selfish in its origins, Nyx's methods also ensure her chosen lifestyle of a warrior is not adversely affected by matters of the heart.

It's all purely scientific.

He comes closer and, unbidden, she feels her heart rate increase tenfold. How could it not? He is attractive, and his willingness to fight - and perhaps join her way of life - is certainly appealing to a shallow creature like her. She isn't even in heat, so can't blame nature for the sudden blast of lust that billows through her body, a rampant wildfire that burns her alive. "It'd be rude not to," she says, her voice lowered to a husky purr. Crossing blades with a handsome beast of a stallion? She cannot think of anything she would enjoy more.

"Prepare yourself, my handsome Glazier."

That's all the warning he gets, because in a flash she rids herself of all emotion and becomes a soldier of living steel. Her stormy gaze flickers across him, not to admire the contour of each muscle and each sharp, masculine edge of him (or, at least, not just for that reason), but to hunt for weaknesses and strengths in him. He is bigger than her by a good two hands or so, which pretty much ensures he will be physically stronger than her. But will he be able to move that elephantine body fast enough to escape her lightning-quick flurry of blows?

She has fought larger men dozens of times before. She has a bit of a thing for big brutes, because they sire bigger, stronger children. Also, you need a big hammer for a big nail, if you get her drift, and she fights down a smirk at the thought. She remembers her tangle with Archibald, who was even bigger than this stallion. She'd lost that particular encounter, and since then she has ensured that she has worked on her mistakes, so as never to make them again when facing somebody who dwarfs her. Nor does she allow herself to think of the possible delicious, salacious consequences of losing.

Her assessment complete, she lunges forwards, neck tucking to joust her horn forwards. She aims to approach him head-on, with her muscled legs moving her in a steady canter. Not too out of control, because there's a pool of water nearby and it would be most embarassing if he sidestepped and sent her flying into the river - that isn't the kind of wet she has in mind. At the last possible second, her quick feet dart her body to her left, in an attempt to bring her running parallel to his right side. Her head twists to the right and she aims to run the tip of her horn along his right side, from ribcage to flank; she doesn't try and press too hard, so there's no chance of ripping him open, but she puts enough force behind the attack to make sure he'll feel it if she hits.