《KILLING SUNLIGHT》


 Chapter One -- Out of Darkness

    KILLING SUNLIGHT


    BOOK ONE of the MORNINGSTAR DUOLOGY


    <hr>


    CHAPTER ONE


    Out of Darkness


    ''When is this going to end?''


    Miles of asphalt had disappeared under the wheels of his rental car. Driving from Montana to the East Coast was always a laborious task, one that left him wishing he''d flown instead. Yet, the mere thought of crowds, confinement, baggage collection, and security, the whole experience''s tedium, made him lurch in displeasure. Air travel drew too much attention in the world''s current social climate, and he had a secret identity to keep. Driving solo was easier.


    The two-thousand-mile distance meant that he only paid visits to his final destination¡ªthe mythic Maine town of Lockwood¡ªif he was somewhat in the area, and such occasions only arose when he had business in New York City. His business had concluded two days prior, so now he was back on the road, making the seven-hour drive north through New England. Figuring he should make the best of it¡ªwith the radio turned up and driver''s seat adjusted for maximum comfort¡ªhe had settled in for the long haul.


    Scenes of picturesque wilderness passed by until the next urbanised area dominated the landscape. It was nearing midnight when a flourish of woodland came into view, and the dull ache behind his eyes coaxed him to take a break. Anticipating how fresh the air between the trees would feel, he diverted from his route, parked in a desolate roadside reservation and rolled down the window to smoke. The headlights still illuminated the treeline ahead while the engine idled. Between his fingertips, a lit match lingered before the cigarette clasped between his lips, though before the flame had ignited the tobacco, his cell phone rang.


    He answered with a customary greeting without registering the caller ID, only to hear a familiar, deep, and velvety voice asking, "?C¨®mo va, mi hijo?"


    "Oh, hi, Magnus." His tone was that of pleased recognition. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"


    "I''m just checking in. Are you still on your way?" He simply hummed confirmation, and Magnus continued, "Vale. So, where are you now?"


    "Uh¡ª" Paused for thought, pinching his thumb and index finger over his eyes, he recalled the place names on his map: "New Hampshire. Somewhere called¡­ Hanover."


    "You have some way to go yet. You sound tired."


    "I guess I''m taking the scenic route. I don''t often get the luxury of a vacation, so I figured, why not enjoy the commute." He emphasised slightly mockingly. Magnus had a vacation from his tireless work as the International Vampiric Governments'' Military Coordinator booked. Truth be told, he deserved it. He''d been worked into the ground lately, what with the Coven''s military''s special forces, ''The Black Winter'', being sent on deployments every other week.


    Lately, there had been so much death that the Vampiric community had become hyper-aware of the death toll, whereas most had become desensitised. Perhaps the apocalypse was indeed upon them if a race known for its violence had started to wince in reaction to the incessant slaughter. However, this wasn''t a ''war'' in any traditional sense. This wasn''t a country versus country conflict. No, this was a race war and not just one against another but against many.


    The revelation that Mythicals existed had turned neighbour upon neighbour overnight. There had quickly come the point where it felt beyond anyone''s control, especially now that racial divides felt wider than ever. It seemed that people had forgotten the meaning of peace, which made it seem even further out of reach. Nowadays, doing nothing in retaliation to the infectious hatred felt as unnatural as it was useless to stop the annihilation. Fundamentally, the IVG were grasping at straws, unsure of what to do to quell the global angst amongst its vampiric community. Honestly, any reaction seemed like a lost cause.


    The quiet rolling roar of the engine ceased when he stepped out into the night. The air was crisp and refreshing. For a moment he paused, to simply enjoy how the cold wrapped about the back of his neck and filled his nose, soothing the ache behind his eyes. Though it quickly occurred to him that even though he was on a desolate road, it was still public and there was a chance he might be seen.


    A Mortal reaction would''ve been to shiver, perhaps grasp one''s upper arms while complaining under one''s breath of the frigid temperature. To quickly disguise his nature, he grabbed his woollen overcoat from the backseat.


    While he shrugged it on, he awkwardly held his cell phone to his ear with a shoulder, and Magnus quipped, "My holiday doesn''t start for two weeks. I''ve work to do yet," before his voice warmed again, "but I look forward to seeing you."


    "Yes, so do I, old friend," he admitted, giving sound to his smile. "It''ll be good for you to see what I''ve been up to over here; it''s been quite the project. But ''The Compound'' is coming along great, and we''re almost at full capacity."


    "Si, we''re excited to see what you''ve accomplished in such a sh-"


    "We?" He disrupted bluntly, "Wait. You''re bringing Ellis with you?"


    "Of course. I don''t see this as a problem. Is it?" Magnus asked innocently. All the Spaniard got by way of a reply was a defeated groan, which made him chuckle. "I will call you when we land, so send a car for us. And let me know when you get to Lockwood, si?"


    "Alright, Mag'', see you in two weeks."


    Once the call terminated, he finally allowed himself the yawn that had been brewing at the back of his throat. His lungs barely warmed the air he exhaled. It wasn''t long before the faint grey condensation was soon joined by blue-hued smoke when he lit the cigarette he''d kept wedged between his fingers. Several steady drags stretched the minutes he idled, leaning on the car''s side and looking towards the treeline. Thoughts came and went with his breaths; none lingered, bar one. It was a chilly night, but not raining, pleasant enough for a stroll. Perhaps a bite to drink if he happened across an unfortunate soul.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Autumnal leaf litter crunched beneath his feet, and ferns brisked his calves. The fresh, dewy air beneath the canopy was a welcome change from the dry a/c he''d had blowing over his face all day, though there was barely a breeze to speak of. Only the distant humming flutter of moths'' wings disturbed the air. All else around him was deathly quiet¡ªa sign that daytime creatures were sleeping¡ªsave for the occasional faraway hoot of a barred owl. If he had closed his eyes, he could have homed in on the unique sounds and scents of the woodland fauna, but instead, he kept his eyes trained forward, satisfied that everything was plain, simple, and in its place. There was peace to be found in the mundane scent of the musty earth and the zesty perfume that burst from the foliage crushed underfoot. Peace, which was soon stolen by an unwelcome scent. Water. Wandering a few metres further, he found its source: a pond. Of course, he''d steer clear of it and lingered away from the shore, though he did admire how the ripples glimmered and disturbed the moonglade reflected over its surface.


    Out of the murky freshwater air came something not belonging to the water nor the woods¡ªan intensely sweet scent. It belonged to a someone rather than a something. Intense and edging on non-Mortal yet unlike any Mythical he''d ever encountered. Its peculiar placement was what piqued his curiosity the most.


    Light-footed and silent, he donned the familiar guise of a hunter to stealthily traverse the undergrowth and track the scent to its origin. The hunt was short-lived. The scent gathered in might, becoming so pungent that his throat burned despite the saliva that had welled beneath his tongue. That was when he saw her. Just a glimpse before recoiling, taking cover behind a girthy pine. For now, he didn''t want to reveal his position and spook the girl. Prey was always easier to catch when they were unaware.


    Once he''d regained some composure, he honed his predatory instinct and halted breathing to calm his bloodlust. How easy she''d be to subdue meant the diabolical was still only a misplaced breath away. Against the soles of his shoes, his toes curled, ready to sprint, in case she intuited she was being watched and decided to flee. Now, remaining inhumanly still, he surveyed her from cover. Beneath his brow, ridged in concentration, his blue eyes deepened, thirst transforming them to a shade as black as the night sky. Inside his mind, the futile war between man and monster began.


    ???


    In the summer, when the days were longer, her woodland strolls were part of her everyday routine. Between wandering around the water''s shore, she looked for a comfortable spot to stop and sketch or read. There, she would stay until the light was too faded to see the page or her pencil lead wore down so dull that there was no point carrying on. Fall nights had already begun to steal sunlight from her, but up until her sweater did nothing to stop her from shivering, she''d continue to retreat to the woods. Anything to escape home and pretend she had a different life, if only for a little while.


    On that particular evening, one week before she was due to start her senior year of high school, she came to be sat on a flat rock nestled between the trees. In her hands, she clutched two envelopes that she had received in her school mailbox that afternoon. The first she''d been dreaming of since the second grade. Some of her classmates'' parents had attended her school to discuss their careers. One of the adults left a lasting impression on the girl and incepted a dream into her ambitious mind. They were a professor of anthropology. The man, smartly dressed in a brown tweed jacket, an Aran pullover, and polished brown brogues, passionately told of his travels and all the wonderous people he''d encountered. The light in his eyes as he spoke of the rich and exotic cultures he''d immersed himself into in the pursuit of knowledge left her awestruck. To her, he''d appeared like some enigmatic travelling storyteller, a dream seller, arcane and not a real person.


    Upon questioning about what she''d like to be when she grew up by her homeroom teacher a few years later, her daring idea took life from the dreamlike memory she''d harboured. Perhaps, one day, she could become a travelling academic. From then until this moment, she had chased that dream and allowed nothing else to distract her from her studies. Truly, the pursuit of knowledge had filled her otherwise bleak existence. Yet now that the pinnacle moment had come, the crisp white envelope fluttered between her fingers though no breeze moved it; her hands trembled.


    It was addressed to herself. Typed onto the front: Miss K. I. Morgan and given the return address, it was from Harvard University''s Admissions Office.


    Years of niggling doubt bubbled up from the depths, where she continuously buried it. It threatened to spill over. Wicked internal whispers of her conflicted mind insisted that dreaming of becoming successful was too much for someone like her¡ªsomeone who had forgotten how to cry at the tender age of six. Someone who never shouted or lost their temper because it was no use. Someone with no memory of what it is to be read bedtime stories or family gatherings. Although she only played trees in school plays, she never met any familiar eyes when looking into the audience. There were no outings to buy new shoes or party dresses. There were no parties, no birthday cake or candles. No playdates or sleepovers, not that she had friends to invite. Christmas happened exclusively outside her front door. Gifts were short chore lists and leftovers of more than the burnt bits. No such girl deserved big dreams. Yes, it was highly likely a rejection letter.


    Postponing the shattering of her childhood dream and teenage purpose in one fell swoop, her eyes settled on the other envelope. Tilting her head in consideration, she inspected it, turning it over in her hands. It was folded from thick off-white paper, not your regular office stationery. It had no return address, and in what was clearly handwritten cursive was just her first name scrawled on the front. How casual it appeared had made her wary. Namely, because she couldn''t think of a single person who might write to her on a first-name basis. The longer she gazed upon the smooth and swirling calligraphy, the more convinced she became that rejection was better; at the very least, it was familiar.


    Inhale. Exhale. Braced for disappointment, she set the informal letter aside. Done clenching her fumbling fingers into a tight fist to gain composure, she reached to peel back the sealed ear to reveal her fate.


    "Please, please, please..." she whispered in prayer, slipped the letter from its envelope and directed her flashlight''s beam over the page.


    "Dear Miss Morgan," she read aloud, "Congratu¡ª"


    Her heart skipped a beat. But not for the right reason. The unmistakable sound of a branch snapping underfoot ricocheted through the trees. Her moment of joy fractured. Her breath caught. Her heart raced. Her mind begged the question: ''Whose foot?'' Wide-eyed against the darkness, she redirected her flashlight and scoped the vicinity for the creator of the disturbance.


    Out of reach of the yellow beam, a black silhouette loomed in the darkness just beyond the treeline. The conclusion she dreaded materialised¡ªa man.


    People walked through these woods all the time, but this time was different. Usually, people passed by without giving her a moment''s notice, but not this person. No, he was staring directly at her. Captivated and too alarmed to look away, she stared back. She didn''t even look down to see the snapped branch, as thick as a two-by-four, under his foot.


    The stranger emerged from the darkness into the light of a gibbous moon. Her first thought was proved: he was a man. A man with thick, dark hair, a neatly stubbled chin, and a black coat. The stranger looked immaculate and expensive in his clothes, especially against the rugged wilderness.


    Any moment now, he''ll walk away. Or so she thought, but he didn''t. The stranger did something stranger than stop and stare; he broke their silence.


    "Hello."

 Chapter Two -- Saved from Solitude

    CHAPTER TWO


    Saved from Solitude


    The basement office''s only windows sat at the top of one of its concrete walls. Grates barred the glass but allowed enough daylight to stave off cabin fever, though that was of no consequence; he was comfortable in his own company. He couldn''t deny that he sometimes got lonely, but the occasions were so rare that they weren''t noteworthy. He simply wasn''t sociable enough to rectify it. Besides, he kept himself busy with his one true passion: work.


    These days, he greeted the chill that came with complete isolation as an old friend. That day was no different. He was too consumed with paperwork to crave company. He hadn''t even noticed the time, yet he''d been awake for forty-odd hours. Work was only interrupted for moments of contemplation, cigarette breaks, and to refill the jug of water he kept on the corner of his desk. Without tearing his eyes from his laptop''s screen, he attempted to pour himself a fresh glass. He would listen to how the water trickled up the musical scale towards fullness, but when the final high notes never arrived, he glared at the empty jug in his hand, disappointed¡ªhis glass was half full.


    "Perhaps it''s time for whiskey instead, then," he grumbled, checking his wristwatch. Nearly eight P.M. was an acceptable time to start drinking the evening away.


    As the brown liquor sang its way into the rock glass, he pondered whether he ought to be concerned about his talking to himself becoming a more regular habit.


    "Maybe it''s madness? Perhaps I''m finally ''old'' and gone senile?" He took a swig of his liquor.


    "Maybe I should get a dog? At least then, I''d have something to talk to." Aloud thoughts continued to stream past his lips.


    Sucking his teeth, he replied, "No, I suppose you''re right. It''d just be something else to look after."


    His dark eyes surveyed the confined office of his living quarters. The small room was just the tip of the iceberg compared to the vast Compound beyond. As the facilities Overseer, he looked after a great deal of things already without complicating his life with daydreams of companionship. For one, the welfare of all its many residents and accompanying politics, and two, the management of the ground''s maintenance and logistics. Both were mammoth tasks that left him barely any time left on the clock to run his private company, REDford.


    The Compound was the last bid to save Vampires from slaughter by their current adversary: Mortals, a species by whom they were vastly outnumbered. After centuries of prevailing traditional predator/prey relations, the tables had turned¡ªthe mouse had finally bared its teeth to the cat.


    Vampires had once confidently infiltrated every sector of the Mortal world, but since the Mortal-Mythical-World War, which had raged since 2008, all Vampires that''d been in positions of influence had been strategically weeded out and eliminated. From politicians, military personnel, corporate businesspeople, and on down the economic chain, every ''threat'' had been neutralised by genocide.


    The generous sum of money he''d invested into the International Vampiric Government''s ''compassionate'' scheme had brought him his position. Still, the deal he''d struck with the IVG to oversee the project felt like he''d bargained away a piece of his soul. Money aside, though, as his race''s staple food provider, he was an extremely valuable asset to the Coven. If he failed, he''d end up with a lot of blood on his hands, and although that prospect sounded ironically delicious, he wanted the haven to prosper because, behind the scenes, the stakes were much higher. He was the keeper of a secret.


    His mentor was the only other person to be privy to the reason he''d wanted sole control over the Compound. He wasn''t running the Compound project as racially exclusive as his coven leader or council elders would''ve liked. If his deception were discovered, he''d undoubtedly be handed a death sentence. However, with the council''s eyes focused elsewhere and their trust in him greater than ever, they hadn''t sent anyone other than Magnus Va Rossa to conduct their audits. With Magnus in on the deal, all they had to do was keep their story straight and their reports tidy.


    He clicked his laptop closed as the clock struck quarter past. Gathering stray charts and reports from around his desk, he tapped them into a tidy pile to begin the day''s final task¡ªfiling away copious amounts of paperwork.


    Before collecting his beverage and leaving his office, the very last thing he did was slip a folder labelled ''South East Watchtower: Patrol Reports'' into a filing cabinet.


    ???


    "He''s jus'' bitter cuz he ain''t the top dog ''ere like he was back home, d''ya know whadda mean?" One said to the other, some brawny skinhead covered in tattoos with an attitude almost as colossal as he was.


    "Nah, I don''t see it! Nate isn''t that kinda guy. Besides, I bet he''d still win in a fight against Apollo." A Demonic Kin named Kenichi sniggered. He was shuffling a deck of cards one last time before dealing another hand to the table''s four occupants. They were sitting in the South East watchtower, gambling away what little money they had.


    An Elemental, the weedier of the bunch, scowled and threw his hand into the centre of the table; it was another bust. "Betting on a fight between those two sounds like a better way to win money than playing this lousy game with you punks."


    "Yeah, if only Apollo wasn''t just another ex-marine with a chip on his shoulder!" The first brutish guy sneered and rolled his eyes.


    "He''s a Onexus! ''Least he can grow it back!" Kenichi joked at the expense of a race best known for their ability to regenerate their bone matter, some even to the extent of forming solid calcium daggers from their joints¡ªa useful attribute in combat in Apollo''s case.


    They all laughed raucously, but that was quickly interrupted. Over the space heater''s buzzing and the static perverted radio music, a perimeter alarm sounded. It happened once or twice daily, and the frequency only amplified the monotony of the patrols, especially in such a cold climate.


    "Hey ladies, knitting circle''s over. It''s show-time." Nate, a Lycan and the topic of their gossip barked through the door on his way to the Compound wall''s South East gate. They''d have to go beyond to see what had set off the alarm.


    Nate and Apollo met before the hefty steel gates as they peeled open, allowing their troop to exit into the surrounding wilderness. Checking a console in his hand, Apollo silently directed the task force of seven towards the guilty sensor. A team of three, including the Onexian leader, flanked the right-hand side, and Nate steered the others left.


    "So, d''ya'' reckon it''s another deer?" The Elemental whispered to his comrades as they crept over the ground in stealth mode. Although he was the most feeble in appearance, he was the only one unarmed. What use was a firearm to a Pyromancer?


    "Most likely. Why d''you wanna bet on it, Danny-boy?" Kenichi snickered, pulling a black hood over his head.


    "Christ almighty, shut the fuck up. Don''t you guys have anything better to do?" Nate rolled his eyes, but just then, he spied movement in his peripherals. Rifle up and ready to fire, he hissed, "Movement at ten o''clock." Instinctively, his nostrils flared, sniffing the air to track the disturbance. Yet again, the group employed tactical silence and stalked over the snow.


    Out of the pitch-black, several beams of light illuminated her form. Raising her hand to shield her eyes, she squinted to make out three black silhouettes.


    Holy shit, that''s no deer. Nate identified the girl by her scent as immediately as his eyes homed in on her figure.


    People! Her internal voice screamed simultaneously.


    Her mind, void of reason or maybe fogged with it, couldn''t decipher any of the subliminal babble; her instincts took control. The presence of people meant that somewhere there was a settlement, and surely that was a good thing, but then why did her gut tell her feet to run? Yet, why couldn''t she move?


    From the guard''s point of view, the girl may not have been a doe, but her reaction to being caught was characteristic of a "deer in the headlights", especially when the flashlights attached to their weapons all homed in on her. First, she fawned, as frozen as the snow beneath her, but when they moved, she took off over the snow at full tilt.


    The effort was in vain. Quickly, her breathing laboured, and her lungs burned from panting cold air. Trudging through the snow was hard enough without them on her tail. Still foolishly convinced that she could get away, she tried to run faster, and for a while, she successfully evaded them. That was until a branch hooked itself over the instep of her foot and sent her tumbling into the powder. Its chilly embrace was a shock to the system but cleared her mind enough to gain focus on the voices of her apprehended. Men. More than three. Fear of the obvious empowered her to retake flight.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Meanwhile, watching the girl attempt an escape and fight to her feet when they inevitably closed in on her caused Nate to feel a significant amount of pity. When he''d muttered her description over his radio to Apollo, the hardened war veteran and tactician had ordered them to hang back and wait for her to tire; it would make her capture easier. Now that she was down, they moved in. Two strong arms hoisted her up while she attempted to scramble to her feet, and although she was flighty, ultimately, she was no match for the men who pursued her.


    "Take her in, guys," Apollo ordered. "Nate, you sure she''s alone?"


    "I can''t smell anyone else out here." The Lycan confirmed.


    Apollo took it as gospel; a lupine sense of smell wasn''t something to sniff at.


    Constrained by four muscular arms, first, her eyes darted about the darkness frantically, pointlessly, looking for an escape path. There was nowhere to run. Then she looked at her captors. They had guns! Along with all the deadly things that could mean, all she could do was stare helplessly into the chiselled face of the man to her left. Nate met her sad and pretty blue eyes with sympathy. Seven armed men against one tiny teenager seemed like overkill.


    Pulled from his thoughts, he heard Kenichi taunt. "Well, well, what d''we have here?" The devious-looking Kin on her other side grinned, showing off a silver canine while he ogled her petite frame.


    Nate rolled his eyes and interjected, "Sorry to ruin your woodland stroll, Miss." His kind hazel eyes meant the apology. "But you''re coming with us."


    "Look at that! We caught a person for once." The Demonic Kin wasn''t the only troop member with false teeth. Two golden canines glinted in the glare of the flashlights; little did she know that this fellow was a real-life, defanged Vampire.


    "What is she, anyway?" Someone asked as they escorted their catch away.


    Nate tensed.


    "She smells pretty and Mortal to me," the vampire said, giving her another thirsty evaluation. Nate bristled when he continued under his breath, "I bet she doesn''t last five minutes into interrogation," and chuckled darkly.


    The Elemental sucked his teeth. "Damn, that''s unlucky."


    At those words, her hope faltered, but her will to survive held fast. Regardless of the immovable arms hooked beneath hers, she had to fight harder if she wanted to live. She''d have to rely on adrenalin to get her through. Screw it, she psyched herself up. I won''t go down without a fight! Writhing this way and that, attempting to be as challenging to keep a hold of as possible despite her exhaustion, she was sure that her foot collided with someone, and now her forehead hurt too.


    "Ow fuck! Why the little bitch¡ª" Apollo cussed, wiping his bloody nose. "Call the Boss. He needs to see this one." Hissing, he cuffed her wrists behind her back.


    The cuffs didn''t dissuade her; they only fuelled her desperation, and she writhed again. An animalistic growl assaulted her ears, causing her to go ridged. Her violence caused the once-kind Lycan to flash her a deadly look that sent a chill up her spine. A warning not to try anything like that again.


    Before them, a tall concrete exterior wall, halloed by barbed wire, stretched skyward through the trees. The prison-like fa?ade was the ultimate threat to her freedom. It spiked her anxiety. Her mind worked overtime, going a million miles a minute, jumping from one scenario to a worse one, sprinting towards a panic attack; she felt her breath fluttering, the seconds between her inhales and exhales shrinking.


    The steel gates peeled open like the mouth of a breast, eager to swallow her. In the sight of the gaping chasm and the unknown beyond, her blood ran cold; her body squirmed to get away, and though her heels gouged into the ground below, they skidded through the snow uselessly.


    "Please! No! I just want to go home!"


    Harded to her struggle, her captors ignored her pleas and ushered her forward. There was no escape.


    ???


    Exiting the tomb of his office for the first time in days, he yawned and stretched his neck sideways, relieving the tension with a few satisfying cracks. Before his face, breath billowed, condensating in the cold air. When checking the thermostat, it figured the temperature was in the low twenties (Fahrenheit). Sure enough, the blanket of snow on the ground through the window had gotten thicker. Fall seemed to have lasted mere weeks, giving the illusion that winter had held the northern state for months longer than usual. It was a particularly frosty November.


    Unphased by the frigid temperature, he didn''t bother turning up the heat. His glass of scotch had warmed him a little, but it was empty far too quickly. Another might''ve left him with a headache, so he abandoned it on the coffee table.


    Knees bent, poised to fall back and recline into his leather couch, the ringing of his unit''s telecom cut through his calm silence. Grunting in annoyance, he found himself back upright and answering the call from the console by the front door.


    "Yes?" He inquired, impatience clipping the word.


    "Sorry to disturb you so late, Sir. There has been a security alert at the South East gate," the lilting feminine voice of the front desk''s receptionist, Ms. Finch, explained.


    "Aren''t the guards dealing with it?" Surely, he didn''t need to be disturbed for something like this. The sensors were always detecting something, but they worked¡ªthat was something to be grateful for.


    "Yes, Sir, they have the intruder in their custody." Initially, this pleased him, but she continued, "But that''s why I called, Sir. You see, the intruder? Well, they''re not the usual sort. I think this might require your personal attention, Sir."


    He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He''d been working for so long already, but it didn''t take him many seconds to deliberate¡ªthere was no rest for the wicked. "I suppose if you insist it requires me personally. I''ll be up in five minutes. Have the guards bring the intruder to the front desk." He instructed and disengaged the telecom, cutting off the receptionist before she could say anything more.


    The night before''s frost had hardened the top layer of snowflakes like sugar on cr¨¨me br?l¨¦e. The crisp snow gave way underfoot with a pleasing crunch as he marched towards the Compound''s main building. No matter how brief his venture over the courtyard was, he didn''t welcome Montana''s cutting wind as it whirled around the enclosure of walls.


    At his age, using his ''gift'' had become second nature. Sometimes, he pulled tricks without realising; closing and opening doors and turning book pages were just small ways he used his gift in everyday life. By reflex, he ''pushed'' the air away from his body, creating an insulating vacuum.


    Letting himself in through an inconspicuous side door, he ventured down a corridor until the penitentiary atmosphere of the outer halls disappeared and gave way to a homely lounge and bar area. Seeing as the room was a community space, someone was always there, no matter the hour. Tonight, a few youths lurked by the library, where the public computers were stationed. They were taking turns on some old PC game and ignored the Compound''s Overseer passing by.


    When he let himself in through the reception''s rear door, the feeling of home gave way to a spine-chillingly authoritarian atmosphere. Upon entry into the facility, everyone had to pass through the reception, which acted as the Compound''s border control. Over the front desk, the thick glass screen created a barrier between one side and the other. Gone were the warm-toned wallpaper, rugs, and blazing fireplace; instead, the white walls and fluorescent lights that flooded the office space felt clinical. In contrast, the receptionist had a pleasant face. Her welcomes were usually warm. The Overseer, who entered behind her, fit the bill of interrogator effortlessly; his aura was suitably aloof.


    "Good evening, Ms. Finch."


    The blond parted her glossy lips to smile adoringly. About to explain the situation when, Apollo barked, "Evening, Sir." with a respectful nod, and Ms. Finch''s otherwise pouty lips twisted into a scowl.


    "Good evening, Apollo. I hope this was worth disturbing me for?" Without allowing an answer, he gestured to the bloody remnants on the man''s upper lip. "It seems they''ve put up a fight?"


    "Erm, yes, Sir. She, uh- booted me, Sir," Apollo explained bashfully; apparently, his ego was as bruised as his nose.


    The Overseer''s brow furrowed. "She?"


    "Yes. We haven''t identified her yet, Sir," Apollo explained. "She has no obvious ID on her person."


    Stepping up to the glass, he peered past the Onexus to witness the anonymous adolescent, a petite female drowned in her raggedy and dirty sweatshirt and a mess of brown hair which obstructed her face, writhing violently. Despite being held under her arms by two of the South East gate''s strongest guards, Nathaniel Scott and Katou Kenichi, her head and shoulders thrashed, her body twisted erratically, still attempting to yank herself free.


    "Feisty."


    Abruptly, she ceased to struggle. Panting slowly, her nerve settled; then she lifted her head, and her hair fell aside to reveal her flushed face. Their eyes met, pupils dilating in recognition. Eyes like those were impossible to forget.


    Apollo was the first to notice all colour draining from the Overseer''s face, along with any expression his lips or eyes previously held.


    "Should-uh-should we take her down for interrogation, Sir?" He asked, bewildered by his boss''s peculiar reaction.


    "No. I''ll deal with this visitor personally," He stated plainly, and all while he spoke, his eyes never shifted from the girl.

 Chapter Three -- One August Night

    CHAPTER THREE


    One August Night


    Startled by his greeting, the stranger watched the letter sail from her trembling hands. Its resting place became the ground below her feet, never to be read in fullness.


    Since revealing himself under the moonlight, he''d also gotten a better look at her. Unremarkably, her complexion was pallid, save for her cheeks and the tip of her nose, which flushed due to cold. To evaluate her build as slight was to neglect that she edged on malnourished, and the tatty sweater she wore did nothing to disguise this. Odder still, she wore no coat despite the season. He veered towards the notion that she was a runaway.


    Undoubtedly, he''d found an easy snack. The timing of her solitude was altogether curious¡ªsuspiciously so¡ªalmost too easy. Pushing back his coat sleeve, he read the time; it was nearer morning than midnight.


    All oddities combined, the situation paralleled many a terrible crime, and no matter how commonplace misery was in her life, it did nothing to mellow her. One worst-case scenario played out in her fertile imagination. Perhaps a search party might comb through this exact spot, where all they''d find would be a crumpled envelope stained with her ''unusual'' blood. A quirk that had been explained as an anomaly or some rare, unknown disorder of which she was the unfortunate owner. This symptom bothered her the least: the migraines, muscle aches, amenorrhoea, and inconvenient allergies were also nothing but a nuisance. It was the alarmingly vivid dreams that kept her up at night that were her true tormentor. Such dreams often depicted events that later became reality. Even this moment felt familiar, somehow. Now, a vague sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu disturbed her. The foreboding churning in her gut caused her to reach into the pouch pocket of her sweatshirt, where her fingers gripped a folded pocketknife. She prayed she wouldn''t have to brandish the weapon because, frankly, she had no idea how to use it.


    Through rambling thoughts, she was still trying to piece together how the dream of this encounter had ended. Had it been sinister? Did she meet her demise? Did it happen here, or did it result in her being towed off to God knows where? Perhaps in the back of someone''s trunk? Try as she might, she couldn''t remember, but she couldn''t shake the feeling that they weren''t in the right place.


    Meanwhile, the stranger loitered not ten yards away, contemplating what she''d do if or when he closed the space between them. Fight or flight was the usual forecast. He didn''t mind which she chose.


    The girl instead displayed another reaction¡ªone of stunned silence and stillness elicited by unshakable fright and hoped that he would just go away. But when he didn''t, she frantically exclaimed, "I-I don''t have any money,"


    He stalled, perhaps a little spooked by her fawning. Centering, he quipped, "It''s a good thing I don''t want your money then."


    She cringed. The rich didn''t go about mugging people; she knew that! Yet even if she considered all manner of dark purposes he could''ve had in mind for her, drinking her blood would never have featured.


    When he drew nearer, his footfalls made little sound, but the closer he came, the more she sensed something quite disarming about his aura. Though his cursed Vampiric allure was working, it wasn''t quite convincing its victim. The girl mistrusted how compelled she felt to relax in his company; instead, instinct moved her to defend herself. From her pocket, she revealed the penknife as a warning.


    His lips tightened, fighting an amused smirk. The knife was of no consequence when she held it so haphazardly, so rather than chuckling, he asked, "Aren''t you asking for trouble being out so late and alone?"


    "I could say the same to you," the girl retorted.


    It was proving difficult to keep a grin from his stoic face. "Oh, I can take care of myself,"


    He hadn''t decided whether or not he''d make a lunge for her throat. There was a growing chance that he wouldn''t. Scaring the girl didn''t flatter his ego, certainly not when she was overwhelmingly meek, and besides, her feistiness was amusing.


    "Here¡ª" he started, crouching to pick up the letter at her feet. He caught a glimpse of the letterhead. Harvard? How curious. Perhaps she''s one of those geniuses with no common sense. "¡ªyou dropped this."


    One knee to the ground, their eyes met as he held the letter up to her. He flinched, taken aback. Despite the unflattering evaluation he''d taken of her appearance earlier, now her eyes earned all of his attention. They were truly stunning. Even in the low light, they were bright, round, and alert¡ªthe colour of polished kyanite¡ªrippled like the sea. He could easily drown in them, which stirred his fear. He would never forget such eyes.


    Although she returned his gaze, she couldn''t share in his fear, for once again, she was overcome with ease. The mystery of his dark eyes¡ªeyes with such depth it was impossible to discern their shade¡ªpeering up at her pulled her in. In that moment of weakness, somewhat beguiled, she supposed it wouldn''t be so bad to be kidnapped by him.


    Romanticising her possible abduction was a dangerous road to take. She straightened her posture, palpably snapping back into reality. She muttered, "Thanks," then promptly snatched away the letter and stuffed it into her pocket. In an attempt to present some modicum of confidence, she spluttered forth a question: "Are you lost or something? The path''s back that way." She pointed behind him to where a marked trail led back toward the water.


    To ask if he was lost was to assume a couple of things: one, that he''d had a destination in mind and hadn''t found his way there, or two, that he couldn''t find his way back to where he''d begun. He answered while a smirk still threatened to break out across his face. "No, I''m not lost."


    When he rose back upright, her pretty eyes panned upward, following his movement. All the while, he held her gaze with intrusive intensity.


    "Are you?" While it seemed harmless to ask, his undertone insinuated he hoped she might be and that no one would miss her if he had his fill and simply discarded her exsanguinated corpse amongst the undergrowth. He''d be gone before there could be any repercussions. Lost in his dark fantasy, he licked his lips.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    Not a moment after regaining composure, it was slipping away again. Her heart pounded in her ears. To calm herself, she breathed in deeply, swallowed, and exhaled slowly. Since the humour had left his voice, it had lowered, alluringly so. The subtle Southern twang that honey-coated his otherwise masculine husk was charming, and its calming timbre was inviting and gentle in contrast to the angles of his face. It offset the way his brow set over his eyes, involuntarily hostile. Looking at him was like looking at a secret. Here was someone who was obviously ''a somebody'', who most likely lived a life far removed from her own existence. She''d read many novels wherein some evil yet handsome stranger spirited away the defenceless female protagonist. There was either an unfathomable ''happily ever after'', or the woman met her demise. The courageous girl was hedging her bets, hoping this stranger would compromise and let her slip through a crack in the usual tropes to let her go on her way.


    Slowly, she shook her head. "I''m not either; I don''t live far from here." Her eyes darted in the direction of her house.


    More''s the pity.


    Discreetly scoping the darkness for signs of life, mostly to check if what she had said was true. He sniffed the air and instantly regretted it. Tightly, he clenched his jaw closed, lest his fangs bare, and the situation unravel into bloody chaos.


    Silently, considering the matter of her life and death, he looked back the way he came. Maybe he should just turn around, walk away, and leave her there to go about her life. But then he would wonder what happened to her; once he''d picked up a puzzle, he couldn''t put it down until its mysteries were known. Coming to his senses, he said, "If you''re not lost, maybe you should get on home." His voice diminished to a faint grumble. "Before I change my mind."


    He''d chosen a scenario¡ªone in which he didn''t lay a finger on her. Though he''d been burdened by a rather abhorrent appetite back in his youth, he had since passed many years battling its abhorrent nature, and right now, that meant not taking an innocent girl''s life on a whim. Notoriously stubborn, once he''d come to a conclusion, he wasn''t easily swayed from it. Now that her life no longer hung in the balance, his eyes found their way back to her face. He asked her a question; it would humanise her and make it more difficult for him to deviate. "What''s your name?"


    "My name?" her back straightened, startled. "My name, uh... My name''s Karou."


    "Hmm, that''s an unusual name. I''ve never heard that before."


    "What''s yours?" She asked in return, her head tilting like a curious bird.


    The mannerism caused a faint smile to twitch on his cheek, though he didn''t allow himself the full breadth of a grin. Politely, he held out his hand and made his introduction. "Warren Howard."


    As she considered whether to shake his hand, he could almost hear the cogs in her head ticking. Wondering: would it be rude not to? But maybe he''d understand her cautiousness. Perhaps it was a test. Perhaps he offered his hand to her, hoping she wouldn''t take it. Regardless, her final decision didn''t seem all that significant at the time, but it was as substantial a life decision as opening her Harvard acceptance letter.


    Karou extended her hand towards Warren. With her dainty hand in his, he felt that she wanted to flinch away the moment they''d made skin-to-skin contact. The crinkle that formed on her brow questioned his temperature without her having to open her mouth. He was deathly cold, so cold that she couldn''t rationally put it down to the fall weather. An innocuous greeting had now become another glimpse into who this stranger was. Reality blurred, and when he gave her hand a gentle shake to complete the greeting ritual, a suspicious voice whispered from the back of her mind.


    "It''s a pleasure to meet you." Karou heard herself say as her hand slipped from his.


    They''d spoken in socially awkward unison, and the moment and its comedic clich¨¦ wasn''t lost on either of them. For a split second, she thought she saw the handsome man smile. The way it touched his dark eyes and how they gleamed when she couldn''t help but grin back at him made her stomach flip summersaults and a blush burn her cold cheeks.


    Unfortunately, the innocence of her smile had only teased the stranger, and the look that had altered his eyes indicated that the risk of him biting her had momentarily returned. Clearing his thirsty throat, he persisted, "As I said, shouldn''t you be getting home, Karou?"


    "Yeah, probably." but she didn''t instantly move to leave.


    "Perhaps... you''d let me walk you home?" The words rolled out his mouth without first having put his brain in gear. Just being in her company while maintaining composure wasn''t the easiest of tasks, yet the tiny amount of human empathy that still dwelled within his bones made him want to ensure that she made it safely from the woods. What could be more deadly to a young girl in that wood than him? He doubted there was anything, but if the thing that could bring her the most harm kept her safe, she would get home alive.


    Dumbfounded, her head tilted again. This scenario in which her new acquaintance asked to remain in her company in such a gentlemanly manner didn''t align with any of the endings she''d envisaged. Subconsciously, she couldn''t shake off his magnetism, so quickly adjusting her plan, she agreed. She wouldn''t lead this Warren fellow straight to her front door. No, not even to the street on which she lived. As a safeguard, she''d only take him as far as the first road beyond the treeline. That way, he couldn''t follow her home so easily. If an unexpected chase took place, she knew the streets like the back of her hand; she''d be able to outwit and evade him.


    Sliding down from the rock, she lingered, directing her flashlight to illuminate the path.


    "Lead the way." Warren insisted.


    The first five minutes passed in silence, with the odd pair walking side by side and seemingly in no rush to make it back to suburbia in the ten minutes Karou had mentioned it should take. Often, she glanced up to check if he was still there. His footfalls were so quiet that she could''ve been forgiven for assuming he''d abandoned her.


    Most of the time, she found him looking ahead, but once every few glances, she caught him eyeing her in return. He didn''t seem embarrassed by her discovering him, but it made her feel a little shy. She swallowed the queasy feeling that bubbled up from her stomach and refocused on the path.


    In the quiet, she allowed her mind to wander.


    "You''re not from around here, are you?" The question seemed innocent enough, but it was loaded. It would''ve been easier on her nerves if he''d confirmed her niggling suspicion, even if she couldn''t form the thought into words because it seemed so far-fetched, her gut knew.


    "No, I''m just passing through."


    "Going... anywhere nice?" She pried shamelessly.


    "I''m heading East."


    The brevity and vagueness of his answer made him infuriatingly intriguing. Still, Karou accepted his explanation with a pout and decided to drop the subject with only a nod of acknowledgement.


    Another five minutes had ticked by, and sure enough, they left the treeline behind and came to a road. They stood silently, side by side, on the sidewalk; their meeting had come to an end. Goodbye was imminent, but no farewell came. Their parting was brief, and before her eyes focused on his face, Warren was no longer beside her. The dark and handsome stranger had already turned back. She watched him go until he became another part of the darkness, engulfed by the shadow of the trees.


    For what remained of the night, she lay awake, pondering, though fairly certain that this wasn''t how her dream had ended.

 Chapter Four -- Displacement

    CHAPTER FOUR


    Displacement


    All that was left to do was run.


    Thirty days¡ªa nightmarish month had passed since her rescue had spiralled into entrapment¡ªshe''d counted by the light that seeped under the door and splintered through the open stairs. If only she could escape that basement, she''d stand a chance. That mantra kept her going through the nights when she could feel her hipbone sinking through the mildewy and sagging mattress to the cold concrete beneath.


    The third step from the bottom was loose; it creaked, and its screws peeped out when it bore weight. That was her ticket out of there. She''d busted her fingernails, prying the screws out until her fingertips bled.


    Another day waned until her captor rattled the padlock on the door, checking it was secure, as they did every night before they went to bed. An hour or so later, she began screaming, yelling at the top of her lungs, until they burned with the need for air. She heaved another great lung full and continued until she heard footsteps thundering from down from the second floor.


    "If she knows what''s good for her, she''ll shut up." The woman snarled, "You idiot, you should have gagged her!" There was no reply from him, but someone kept fumbling to unlock the padlock.


    Thankfully, the strongest was coming to be eliminated first. It would make her getaway easier, but her heart was torn because she''d always liked her neighbour, Hassan Khoury. He''d seemed like such a nice man. However, that couldn''t stop her from doing what was necessary to free herself, not after he''d idly stood by and allowed his wife to butcher her. The barely healed wound on her back burned as a reminder of the first event in this series of horrors. Naively, she''d trusted the Khourys, believing that they''d meant to rescue her. Instead, they spirited her away, violently attacked her, and locked her up in a basement. The phone calls she''d overheard while imprisoned left her with the impression that they meant to traffic her; the bartering over her worth and cost made her stomach churn.


    When the door finally opened, she thrust him down the stairs, barking, "Deal with her properly this time, you coward! I''ve got her blood on my hands already. I''ve done more than my fair share, and we''re doing this for your family, remember?"


    Down he came, like a lamb, to the slaughter. Hassan inevitably lost his footing on the missing third step and went tumbling to the basement floor; that was when Karou revealed herself and pummelled his head with the plank. The yowling and cussing that followed meant the blow hadn''t killed him, but she''d already taken flight up the stairs, hurrying to maim Minisha.


    In all the time Karou had known the couple, that wretched woman had only pretended to be a docile housewife; she was truly a wolf in sheep''s clothing. So, when she caught up to her, she flogged her not once or twice but thrice for good measure. Imagining the bruise that would tarnish the vain woman''s face gave Karou gratification. She''d gotten a slice of vengeance, no matter how meagre. But there was nothing to smile about.


    Escaping the basement brought fresh panic. It wasn''t the basement she thought she''d been imprisoned in; she wasn''t at the Khourys'' house at all. Outside, Karou didn''t recognise the street as her hometown; it didn''t even look like New England. Panting, running, and high on adrenaline, her eyes flitted this way and that. The license plates of the cars on the driveways clued her in as to where she was¡ªtwo thousand miles from home in Montana.


    Diverting her getaway off-road, Karou trekked into the sleepy towns surrounding woodland. If she really was worth two million dollars, it stood to reason that the Khourys would be on her tail once they''d recovered from their battering. Through the trees, she saw the amber glow of streetlamps¡ªanother neighbourhood. Briefly, she pondered, knocking on a door and asking for help, but trusting a stranger was out of the question when she couldn''t even trust her neighbours. Without a steadfast plan, she followed the lights to a desolate road. She resigned to walking down the grassy verge because there was no sidewalk. The odd car that came past cast light over the road; the rumble of their engines felt ominous as they disturbed the quiet.


    A long expanse of time was wasted inventing positive outcomes, all in an effort to distract herself from the misery of having nowhere to go and no one to trust... until an opportunity she would never have considered had she not been so desperate presented itself.


    Up ahead, a tan station wagon pulled into a roadside reservation. Plumes of grey smoke billowed from the exhaust into the cold air as the vehicle idled. While still idling, a man vacated the driver''s side. A plan began to form, but if she was going to have a chance at pulling it off, she had no time to second-guess herself. Karou posied herself to make a dash as she watched him slink off toward the cover of the trees. Where the gravel met the undergrowth, with his back to the road and his car, he unzipped his fly and started to take a leak. His personal business was of no interest to Karou other than the fact that it left him perfectly distracted.


    As quiet as she could, she crept closer; whatever sound her sneakers made against the gravel underfoot was disguised by the engine turning over, beating a steady chugging rhythm. In harmony, her heart pounded. She could feel a familiar and warm flush of adrenalin rising to the occasion, granting her the gumption she needed to pull off her plan. Still cautious not to get caught, she peered through the window and tunnel of the car interior, keeping her eyes locked on her unwitting victim. One by one, her fingers gingerly coiled the cold door handle. The stream of steaming pee ceased, and she froze, expecting that any moment he''d return to his car. He coughed and grunted, and Karou held her breath. Never would she have thought that a trickle onto the leaves would be such a pleasing sound, but it was music to her ears. She sighed out the breath she''d been holding and eased open the passenger door. Crawling inside, first over the seat and then the centre console, she thrust the car into drive and peeled away from the reservation, blazing a trail of dust and the smell of burnt rubber.


    Flicking her eyes up to the rearview, she laughed as she watched the man waddling out onto the road behind her, all while trying to tuck himself back into his pants, huffed, probably cussing and waving an angry fist into the air. The rush of adrenalin made her feel warmer than she had in hours and dangerously invincible. The sound of her laughter filled the car. She was laughing! She''d almost forgotten what the sound of her own joy sounded like. Karou couldn''t remember the last time she''d felt this feeling that made her chest feel airy and light like her heart was soaring.


    She turned on the radio, and it played retro tunes until all around was piney woodland and nothing else¡ªno houses, people, or cars in sight. Yet, every so often, a mailbox appeared at the side of the road, insisting that there must be somewhere safe out there and that the road ahead meant there had to be a way back home.


    Maybe it had been ten miles. Maybe it had been four, but it hadn''t been long enough¡ªnot to get anywhere near the Dakotas, never mind New England, when a red warning light flashed on the dashboard. The small red dot spelt disaster and snuffed out any hopeful feeling Karou had been riding. Low Fuel. She hadn''t a dime on her, not that she imagined getting away with putting fuel into a stolen vehicle. She drove until the engine spluttered. Starved to death, it rolled to a halt on the roadside, where Karou abandoned it.


    She followed the road to its unfruitful end, a dirt track that snaked off into the trees. Thinking that if she hadn''t bad luck, she''d have no luck at all, Karou made another in the series of unfortunate decisions and followed the track in hopes that it might lead somewhere.


    The woods hadn''t looked so scary from the car, but now the long shadows cast by the towering trunks seemed to move all on their own, like spectres. It''s all in your imagination, she told herself to ward off the heebie-jeebies. Though Karou found no ghouls beyond the treeline, she didn''t find civilisation either. The further she wandered, the colder and more hostile the weather became. The pines were no shelter from the whipping wind biting her cheeks. Harshly, it blew straight through her sweatshirt, chilling her to the core. Cosy inside the car, she''d daydreamed, but now, she struggled to remember how the heater vents warmed her now that she was shivering violently, her teeth chattered. She wondered if she ought to have spent the night in the car; at least, it would have protected her from the elements. Thanks to her shoes being sodden with mud and snow slurry, her feet were numb and felt like lead weights, adding to how tiresome trudging onward was. But, even if she was hungry, cold, and tired, being out there in Montana''s wilderness was still better than being trapped in that basement. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Hours vanished underfoot; she was neither lost nor found but stumbling around, hoping she wasn''t walking in circles. Her only source of light had disappeared when the sun went down.


    There has to be another town coming up soon.


    Her heart quickened, hope sprung, and a smile brightened her eyes when, through the tree, a cabin appeared. The smoke churning out the chimney meant a warm, welcoming fire awaited her! Desperation compelled blind faith, so she bound toward the cabin''s porch with all the enthusiasm she could muster.


    The bridge of her nose met the sill as she peeped through a window. Her brow sunk, narrowing her eyes into focus to scope the interior. There didn''t appear to be anyone home. Not that it looked like a home, it was almost bare of furnishings, save for a long table in the centre of the main room. The log burner in the corner contained the fire she wished to get near and shared very little light by which she might see.


    Though there were no people inside, there was evidence there could be at least four or five. Mugs sat on the table amongst indistinguishable papers and a communications radio. On the walls were maps plotted with tacks and strings, but no taxidermy trophies denoting that this cabin was someone''s hunting lodge. Karou''s imagination easily went into overdrive; the fewer the clues, the worse the scenarios became. Fog from her breath slowly rose up the glass, but before her vision was obstructed entirely, her eyes settled on something tall in the corner¡ªa stack of cadet grey footlockers and a clutch of guns to accompany them. Swallowing the clot of fear in her throat, Karou''s shoulders hunkered down as she ducked away from the window. Pressing her back against the log walls and facing the lonely woods and their creeping darkness, she clamped her teeth onto her lower lip, which threatened to tremble. In the same vain, she clenched her shaking hands into fists. The tension or perhaps the cold caused her skin to burn. Her eyes stung, too, dry from the cold, now wetting with the disappointment that nowhere was safe. Her ears pricked at a chorus of voices and creaking footsteps as the cabin''s inhabitants returned indoors. Instinct moved her to flee into the cover of the trees; scrambling down the porch steps, she stumbled through the snow, a slow getaway if ever there was one.


    "Hey, you! Stop!" A man demanded behind her, but she didn''t look back. "Hey, girl! Get back here!"


    Determined and desperate to live, she wasn''t ready to give up. Running away was necessary for her survival, even if somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice whispered that this would be the death of her.


    If only she had listened, she might not have ended up here, staring hard at a vaguely familiar man through the segregating glass screen.


    Oh God... It is him. The intensity of his eyes brought forth memories, ones that took her back to August, back to the night she''d encountered a dark, handsome stranger in the woods. It has to be him.


    ???


    "Visitor?" Nate mouthed quizzically to Apollo, to which the Onexus merely shrugged nonchalantly. The Overseer couldn''t have expected her, could he? Usually, he had blood hosts delivered to the warehouse depot at the Compound''s West gate, but that sort of business was kept very ''hush-hush''.


    Fighting the urge to ask, ''What the hell are you doing here?'' pinched his furrowed brow deeper. It would''ve been uncharacteristic to talk to her casually in front of his staff, but his wide eyes begged the question for him. The other urge he fought back would win out because even though he couldn''t pick up her scent through the glass screen, his nose twitched, recalling it. How sweet it had been, how thirstily he''d followed it that August night. Warren clenched his jaw; he''d become very aware of his teeth. He couldn''t wait any longer. As if his hand had autonomy, he unlocked the reception entrance, inviting the intruder to "come inside."


    With her eyes focused on her path, he seized the moment to breathe her in. As discreet as he attempted to be, it was hard to stop his eyes from closing while savouring and deducing that she smelled the same. The bitter metallic notes of iron usually found in human blood were absent and replaced with a nectar-like fragrance. It made his throat sore, his nose itch, and his mouth well up. How it teased him to the edge of thirst was already becoming addictive.


    Nate cleared his throat, and Warren snapped back to reality with a suddenness that made his head throb.


    "Apollo," both guards stood up a little straighter at their boss''s curt tone. "I''ll need the keys to her cuffs." Merely raising his hand to grasp the small silver keys the Onexus threw his way, he dismissed them. "Thank you, gentleman. Please return to your post. We wouldn''t want anyone else sneaking in while you''re not looking, would we?"


    The moment the reception''s rear door closed behind them, and they were alone, he grumbled, "This is all highly irregular." Turning about, his eyes found hers, burning, and he quietly uttered, "But... if you do everything, I tell you for the next little while, we might make it out of this unscathed."


    Although his tone was as blunt and authoritative as his stature, the request insinuated that she had a chance of survival¡ªthe chance she''d prayed for. That would have been comforting if she could focus on anything other than his stipulation that she follow his every order, advertently demanding that she trust him. Was trusting a stranger what it would take for her to make it home in one piece?


    Leaning nearer, his gaze softened, urging her to play along. "Do you understand?" he challenged.


    An answer didn''t come easily. How could it? She was trapped again. Under the scrutiny of his inescapable eyes, she could barely breathe, never mind form words. Her teeth gnawed into her lower lip, the pressure whitening it. That caused his eyes to lose focus on hers. He stole a moment to notice how her lip flushed pink and fuller when she let it be. The colour of his eyes deepened, his thirst encroaching faster and thicker than before. Tipping his head slightly closer, he pushed her to answer him again. The beginnings of an impatient growl lowered his tone when he reiterated, "Do you under¡ª"


    "Yes." She gasped, insistent and nodding, "I understand."


    "Good." Quickly, he turned, marching off, and gave his next order, "Follow me."


    At last, the breath she''d been holding stuttered from her rounded lips. His pace spared her no time to centre herself or dawdle¡ªa distance was growing between them. Karou picked up her feet and hurried after him, internally cussing his long strides. Couldn''t he walk a little slower? It was hard not to lose balance with her hands cuffed behind her back.


    Although well aware that she was handcuffed, Warren had still dared to hope she might have even an ounce of trust in him. He hadn''t hurt her on their first encounter, and he would attempt not to this time, too. He knew himself well enough not to imagine that anything about his nature would calm her down, though. Not after his guards had manhandled her. She could only guess where she was being led... Yet, surprisingly, she was following him... Obediently. There was no need to glance behind; he could hear her. Namely, her squelching shoes, but also her rapid heart rate, indicative of her nervousness pounded in his ears. A reminder that having a Mortal in his Compound was a terrible idea.


    In truth, Karou''s ''obedience'' was just an illusion inside she was still in turmoil, but her guard was starting to waver due to her immense fatigue. She''d spent a month or so being thrown from one emotional extreme to the next. Now, as they passed through a vast living room, where three comfortable-looking leather sofas, complete with plump scatter cushions and cosy throws, bracketed the room''s focal point: a majestic stone fireplace, complete with a blaze that vanquished her memory of the winter''s cold, it was hard not to relax. The thought of curling up there and getting the rest that she was in dire need, was calming.


    Her blue eyes lingered on the couches, full of longing, as they left them behind. Once they stepped through a door to the rear of the room, the home comforts vanished, along with her calm. Almost cruelly, the fa?ade of home she''d been enjoying existed like a movie set. Behind the scenes, there was a very different world awaiting her. One of concrete and industrial fixtures. Open-air electrical cables and plumbing pipes that stretched down the walls and overhead. The doors that flanked them looked like prison cells, riveted sheet metal with square porthole windows.


    Down the dimly lit and narrow corridor, the metronomic and authoritative clacking of the man''s footfalls echoed, followed by her pathetic squelching. If he thought she looked pitiful and dishevelled during their first meeting, now, she was in a worse state and cold to boot. The extent of how freezing she had been was overwhelming; her limbs had started to burn, and under her clothes, chilblains covered her skin. Staring at the broad back in front of her¡ªclothed in a well-fitted dress shirt, tapered to a brown leather belt and dark, possibly black slacks, it became clear their divide was irrefutable; as resounding and absolute as the beat he marched toward the flickering light at the end of the corridor. He was the master of this place, and she was his prisoner. Was it too late to fall to her knees, grovel and beg for her freedom, for her life?

 Chapter Five -- Unprecedented Circumstances

    CHAPTER FIVE


    Unprecedented Circumstances


    Reintroductions would be held off if only to gain him some time to think. Resigned the couch, finally, he''d gotten the chance to sit down, but now it was impossible to relax. When he thought about how she would interrupt his life, he pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. "This is all I need."


    The circumstances in which he found himself were unprecedented, to say the least. How best to proceed was unclear. Perhaps allowing her into his home was misplaced compassion, but if Apollo had interrogated her, she''d have likely been dispatched by now. The mere contemplation caused the divot in his brow to deepen.


    A night of uncertainty befell him, but no matter how peculiar the night before, one thing remained predestined: the sun would rise.


    Warren woke early, sprawled on the couch, a forearm draped over his face. His first deep breath was bombarded by the honeyed aroma that filled his unit, reminding him: Ah, that''s right¡ªthe girl.


    Coughing the husk of sleep from his throat, Warren sat up and stretched but was instantly hit with the dizzy feeling of having risen too quickly. He groaned disgruntled. For one, he''d woken up from an ill night''s rest. Two, he was still dressed in yesterday''s clothes, and three, he was prematurely bloodthirsty. Slumped over his knees another series of displeased grumbles left him as he rubbed his fingers into the pits of his eyes where the early twinges of a headache already resided. It was all because of that heady scent of hers. It was one he couldn''t marry with any of nature''s perfumes. There wasn''t a simple way of describing it other than to say it was mouth-watering, a hindrance to this thirst, and apparently headache-inducing.


    On autopilot, Warren went through the motions of making his morning coffee. He would attempt to assimilate some form of normality, seeing that the girl''s fortuitous arrival would undoubtedly throw his schedule off-kilter.


    The trickling sound of the percolation was comforting in its familiarity.


    Recalling fragments of the night before, Warren remembered how his answers to any of the girl''s questions were deliberately vague. Before falling asleep, he''d only come up to dead ends regarding what would happen in the long term. There would have to be some sort of information exchange if she were to remain at the Compound in any capacity¡ªbut should she? Could she stay? If so, then he''d need to release a statement to the residents about her presence, which brought its own set of hurdles. The Compound was no place for Mortals, it was built to keep them out. Had he surreptitiously allowed the enemy in, betraying any trust his facilities residence had in his capacity to keep them safe? He could feel his headache getting worse.


    He was pouring and filling the mug to the brim when he emerged from his deep thought. Ah, there is a scent I can identify. Bitter like earth, nutty in texture, and flourished with sweet, citrusy, floral undertones¡ªtruly a balm to his angst¡ªColombian coffee, the perfect morning pick-me-up.


    ???


    In the wee hours, Karou awoke, post nightmare, on high alert. It wasn''t unusual. Once the cold sweat had subsided and her heart rate levelled, she flopped back into the pillows, hoping that she''d drift back to sleep. Between the sheets, there was an oddly comforting smell. It belonged to him. It reminded her where she was. It meant many things, and now, thanks to her restless mind, sleep was far, far away. So, quite unlike herself, she was awake bright and early.


    However comfortable the bed was, it couldn''t contain her, she began pacing the bedroom. On the nightstand, the red digits of an alarm clock said three-twenty-seven A.M. Outside, the trees quivered in the violent wind, yet she couldn''t hear the pitter-patter of the rainstorm through the thick floor-to-ceiling windowpane. Moonlight glinted off of the glossy black surface of a grand piano, and she thought it was an odd location for it, but this was his home, so he could furnish it how he liked. This is his home. That thought kept repeating. He''d taken her in. Brought her to his home. Gave up his bed to her. Clutching her skull, she groaned; all the whys and wherefores raged like the storm, and nothing made sense; one question only begot another and on and on.


    Regardless of her misgivings, Karou prized open the bedroom door a crack; her alert and steely-coloured eyes scoped her immediate vicinity. She could see down a hallway into the centre of an open-plan living space. Despite being wall-less, the ''rooms'' were organised in an obvious way, as indicated by the furniture''s arrangement. While her mind was foggy, harbouring a multitude of questions, one loomed in the forefront: Where is he?


    Beneath her feet, the hardwood floor didn''t feel as cold as it had the night before. Vigilantly, she crept towards the lounge, but he wasn''t there. The front door was tantalisingly close, but she knew it was locked and by a rather sophisticated-looking keypad at that. It was pointless to attempt an escape. On the doormat, she glimpsed her tatty shoes. How cooly he''d instructed her to "always take your shoes off inside" came to mind, yet conversely, watching him remove his alongside her had incepted the idea that her life wasn''t in immediate danger. She couldn''t settle for that, though, she had to find him and take control of the situation. So, the mission to locate him continued.


    Poking her head around a corner, she found the kitchen and, most importantly, him. She stepped back, having interrupted what looked to be a quiet, personal moment. What he was doing was perfectly innocuous, and the toasty smell of fresh coffee sounded delicious.


    This was only the second time she''d seen him fully illuminated. Admittedly, she''d recognised him at first sight and was equally sure that he recognised her, too. Though when he''d stood under the fluorescent lights, she''d been too taken aback by his presence to really look at him. Now though, while he was unaware she stared inquiringly and unashamedly, while the warm house lights made it possible to distinguish all his features.


    The coffee machine dripped the last of it''s bounty into the pot below. The digits on the microwave''s clock changed, and from somewhere in the house an anologue clock tic-toked, also counting the seconds.


    "Hi."


    Warren sleepily pulled the mug from his lips, swallowed, and lapped any residual taste from his lips, wishing the peace of drinking coffee in solitude could have lasted just a little longer. He laboured just long enough for Karou to consider repeating her greeting before he responded, "Good morning," the words left his lips like a purr. Braced for her millions of predictable questions, he first asked one of his own, "Sleep well?"


    "Uh, yeah..." In her befuddlement, her voice became mousey. It was a typical question, but given their situation, it wasn''t the most obvious one to open with. "W-Where am I?" There, that was an obvious question and one of many she had lined up.


    "I''m not sure it would be wise for me to answer that just now." Meeting her eyes, he leaned back against the granite countertop and folded his arms over his chest.


    The intensity of his gaze caused her to take a sharp intake of breath.


    "How about you tell me how you got here?"


    "I¡­ Walked," Karou answered, incredulity arranging her dainty features.


    "You walked?" Frustration twitched on his lips. "The nearest inhabited settlement from here is south by thirty miles or more. And you expect me to believe that you walked over thirty miles through the wilderness in November, in the snow, wearing a sweatshirt and tennis shoes?" Perhaps now she would see how unbelievable her explanation was.


    "I mean, I did¡­ drive some of the way, but it didn''t seem like thirty miles," she muttered, she wasn''t about to admit to being a car thief.


    "Why are you even in Montana? You''re from New Hampshire."


    A mix of emotions contorted her face: high-browed and twinkly-eyed in surprise and relief that he remembered her, yet when she mentioned, "My Mom¡­" all emotion bled from her face as she cast newly sullen eyes to her feet. "I... couldn''t stay," and that was all she offered in explanation. Even though there was so much more to say, she wasn''t ready to talk about what had happened.


    "You''re a runaway?" That wasn''t what he wanted to hear.


    "Wait¡ª" Karou''s head snapped up, new emotions flooding her face, making her eyes widened, anguished and pleading, while her voice took on a fraught pitch. "Are you going to take me home?"


    Warren growled and rolled his eyes in exasperation.


    Karou was left dumbfounded by her instinctive reaction. All this time, she had hung her hopes on getting home, but deep down; did she really want to go back? Did she even have a home to go back to? She hadn''t left her Mom on good terms. She wasn''t sure she would even be there to go back to.


    Meanwhile, Warren had taken a moment to process the mess and had turned his back to grasp the work surface, thinking aloud; "Her family are going to come looking for her. Terrific! Then I''ll have more Mortals on my hands,"If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Mortals?" Karou gulped, "As opposed to..?"


    It had been just over a year since news readers worldwide announced the conspiracy theories were credible. Supposed bona fide evidence, video footage, photographs and official government documents discussing their existence had surfaced online. The broadcasted Chinese whispers had gone viral, but initially, everyone felt safe, assuming it was a hoax, just more fake news to add to the twenty-four-hour media slurry. Behind the scenes, covert investigations started. Governments pooled funding and resources, desperate to separate truth from falsity. The fundamental question of ''Are we alone?'' was asked, and an unlikely answer echoed back. When ''the others'' had revealed themselves, a curtain fell, and behind it stood the cast of a secret world where myths were reality and magik wasn''t an illusion. The eighty-year benchmark for a lifetime stretched, and the new average sat nearer two hundred. The divide between people now went beyond culture, language, and nationality but species, too. Numerous races had healing capabilities beyond anything scientifically imaginable. Morality became distorted because, for some, murder was necessary to survive.


    No statement was truer: Mortals feared nothing more than the alien. It was a given, a universal truth was that aliens would arrive from space because no one expected them to rise from amongst them.


    Humanity''s collective minds were blown. Mythicals had always been there; a threat hidden in plain sight for as long as time memorial. To say that there was unease amongst the flock underestimated the widespread hysteria.


    "You''re one of them, aren''t you?" Karou''s anxious curiosity was painted all over her freckle-speckled face. "One of ''the others''?"


    She had asked exactly the right question.


    From over his shoulder, his eyes locked onto hers and there was no need for any further confirmation¡ªhis eyes were no longer the hypnotic and dazzling blue they had been the night before. They''d eclipsed, becoming impossibly dark. Not in the way of fury just black, hollow, devoid of feeling. Combined with the angles of his face, he looked malevolent. Impossibly human.


    The uncomfortable truth crashed over her like waves, one layer of realisation after another. That night, in August, she''d had the unshakable feeling, call it gut instinct, that he was different. Ultimately, she''d written it off and put it down to having been alone in the woods so late at night. It had been the atmosphere that made him seem so mysterious and ominous. However, it was true that he was unlike any person she''d ever encountered. He was subliminally peculiar in his external perfection.


    A shiver ran down her spine. Her heart stumbled over its rhythm. She stood a little straighter and swallowed her nerve hard. After all she''d been through, now was not the time to show fear. The longer and deeper she peered into the void of his eyes, the more she questioned who was most frightened. The rabbit hole they were circling was getting murkier but more thrilling by the minute.


    Effortlessly debonair, Warren swept a hand back through his brown hair to brush off the tension as he turned to face her head-on. "There are many breeds of other. But, I suppose the answer you''re looking for is ''Yes, I am.''" Concise and unapologetic, Warren waited for the hysterical screaming to begin, or perhaps she''d faint from shock.


    How her head tipped to the side like an inquisitive little sparrow unnerved him. It almost made him smile¡ªalmost.


    "Which "breed" of other are you then?"


    Surely, her bravery would falter the instant he revealed he was of the most wicked ilk. It was highly probable that she''d run for the door. And if she ran, there was no telling to what extent that would enflame his predatory instincts, but what he would do to her when he caught her was all too clear in his mind.


    Warren cleared his throat. "The good news is you won''t be seeing your parents again. I don''t know exactly why you''re here but now you have some idea of where ''we'' are; I can''t risk sending you back out into the world and revealing our location." He explained and poured himself another mug of black coffee.


    Shock spread across her face. The heap of brown sugar he added to his beverage was alarming. So distracted was she by learning of his sweet tooth that she''d almost forgotten his avoidance of her question. Her brow, which had risen in surprise, now sunk in disappointment; she considered reiterating, but he spoke first.


    "Would you like breakfast? Coffee?" He casually slid a mug over the counter, which formed an island in the centre of the square kitchen.


    "Sure..." The quick diversion their conversation had taken left her feeling¡­ apprehensive. Warren''s breed aside, he was a man she didn''t know, and even though she could usually trust her nerves of steel, Karou prayed that her hands wouldn''t shake when she reached for the coffee pot. If he felt the urge to try anything reckless, she''d be helpless to stop him, and she was certain no one would hear her scream, never mind come to her aid.


    Wielding the mug of scolding coffee close, supposing it might become her weapon, she rounded the kitchen island to distance herself again. Resolutely, and out of the blue, she asked, "Is this my last breakfast?"


    All the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and the furrow that creased his brow threatened to crack his perfect face. "What?"


    "You said I wouldn''t be seeing my Mom again, so I thought that might mean you''re going to ''dispose'' of me?"


    "I don''t know what gave you that impression, but if I''d wanted to kill you, I would''ve already." Warren assured.


    The dishevelled girl stood before him continued to be full of surprises. She faced the prospect of death nonchalantly. In truth, Karou hadn''t valued her existence for some time, but she couldn''t kick her strong sense of will to survive. After all, she kept running and surviving regardless of what life threw at her. No matter the damage or devastation she just endured, ultimately being too stubborn to die.


    "So, what are you going to do with me?"


    "I''m still considering my options..."


    Now seemed as good a time as any to make the breakfast he''d offered. Karou watched her host gather ingredients, and it became clear that he was making scrambled eggs and toast. Finally, a look of concern came over her face, not because he hadn''t decided her fate but because he had gotten butter from his well-stocked refrigerator. She watched as he cooked the eggs in that butter, placed the scrambled mixture atop two slices of toast and then slid the plate in her direction.


    "Uhm, can I have just toast, please?"


    "You don''t like eggs?"


    "I kinda like eggs, but the butter¡­ I''m dairy intolerant."


    To hide his irritated sneer, Warren sipped his coffee, and to appear accommodating he put the option of a jar of jelly onto the counter. Plucking the last two slices from the toaster he presented the dry offering to her and seating himself at the kitchen island, he picked up cutlery to eat the meal she''d refused. Little was said while they ate, but occasionally, they shared fleeting eye contact.


    Just as Karou had taken the measure of Warren, he sat sizing her up, too. The peculiarity of the situation was nothing compared to how he was struggling to read her¡ªshe didn''t react to anything the way he anticipated. His face remained stoic, sharp, and intimidating in all its edges as he contemplated the numerous courses of action. Karou wouldn''t be leaving the Compound, that much he had concluded. But what he''d do with her while she was there was the dilemma hardest to answer.


    To say that Warren wasn''t fond of people was perhaps the understatement of the century. People had never done him any great favours, so he generally went through life using them to gain whatever they could provide. Like a typical recluse, he never sought companionship and kept few friends; arguably, his only one was Magnus. He took refuge in solitude and savoured alone time because the inconsistencies in people''s personalities irritated him and inflamed his foul temper. At all costs, Warren avoided casual conversation. Still, here he found himself confronted with not only a person but a puzzle, and even if he couldn''t stand people, adolescents especially, his great passion in life was being a master of logic and reason.


    So far, the fragile Mortal girl had avoided becoming a casualty of the ongoing war, as well as her first encounter with him. So, it would''ve been a shame for her to meet her demise by accidentally stumbling upon the Compound. Coincidentally, she didn''t appear to have any obvious malintent towards Mythicals; he couldn''t make any such inclinations about his intentions toward her though.


    Without an obvious catalyst, a singular and deplorable thought reached from the dark recesses of his mind. The image of the girl''s frail body, pallid from exsanguination, splayed over the cold black leather of his living room couch, appeared before his mind''s eye. Her languid limbs had been left strewn where they''d fallen once her fight to be free of him had given out. Her neck had become the home to some dozen fang pits, though there was not a single crimson splatter on her skin. It was no stretch to imagine that, in such a scenario, he would lick every last drop of blood from her supple, soft, pale skin.


    The image had him fighting the reflex that moved his fangs to bear. Fortunately, all Karou would''ve noticed was how his upper lip twitched as he reached for his coffee. He''d hoped that the flavour would distract his mind from imagining the texture and taste of her blood. It did little to help because the sugar he''d put in spurred his imagination. Oh no, she''ll be so much sweeter than that. Mmm, but just as warm.


    His mind was insidious! His inner demons, each a reflection of the spectrum of his iniquity. There was no solace he could glean from his next unsavoury thought. It was an obvious one, fuelled by other basal urges.


    Pity the scene lacks her finer details...


    Before he could dissuade himself, he was staring over the kitchen island and taking in her form to fill in the gaps. The way the clothes she''d been wearing in his previous daydream gradually fell away until he could see every last inch of her supple, soft, and pale skin was evocative. He watched his hands peeling, no, tearing them from her body.


    Yes... Do that... Just like that... A voice whispered seductively, prompting him to grip the knife in his hand.


    Once she''s docile, you could touch her however you want. Another agreed.


    Only for another to retort something more egregious. But then you won''t be able to hear her scream and beg you not to do it. You won''t be able to watch her cry.


    Warren shuddered in his seat, aroused or disgusted¡ªhe didn''t dare enquire of himself.


    No! A fragment of his humane morality prevailed, much to the disappointment of his mind''s fiends; they whined and snarled as they slunk back into the filthy pits from whence they came. She''s too helpless to consider any of that.


    Yet the fact remained that she couldn''t leave with the knowledge of the Compound''s whereabouts, and he had very few choices of where to house a vulnerable Mortal girl.


    "You''re going to have to stay here."


    That''s not so bad, I guess. Karou supposed, for now, her ignorance was her protection. "What is here? A prison?"


    "No, it''s a gated community for Mythicals. But if I say you can stay, you won''t be challenged or harmed."


    "So, you''re the boss here, then?"


    "Something like that."

 Chapter Six -- Protocol

    CHAPTER SIX


    Protocol


    Once the toast and coffee were gone, Warren abruptly announced, "Excuse me, I''ve got work to do," and left the kitchen. Alone and unsure of what to do with herself, Karou collected up their dishes and set them into the sink. With no dish soap or obvious cleaning utensils in sight, she gave up on that idea and wandered into the living room. Down the hall, she spotted her host; he''d dressed in fresh clothes and was making his bed. Recalling how precisely the sheets had been tucked and folded the night before caused her a little embarrassment; she''d left them in disarray.


    Straightening the tie about his neck, Warren stopped by the front door and checked that it was locked, not-so-discreetly. Then, when passing, he said, "I''ll be gone for maybe an hour," and shut himself away behind a door on the far side of the room.


    The luxury of being left to her own devices was lost on her. Although it was better than being trapped in the Khoury''s basement, this was still confinement. So, for some time, she stood gazing about the house, adrift from reality. How she had come to be in this place seemed like make-believe.


    Twenty minutes were wasted scanning the titles and flicking through the books on the shelves surrounding the large, flatscreen TV. The factual, autobiographical, and historical titles didn''t interest her. What caught her attention the most were his trinkets. A ceramic jug, a scented candle, and a plastic potted plant gave her very few clues to his personality. Did his living quarters truly have no personal touches?


    Stepping back from the bookcase, she spotted something that looked more promising. Although Karou had been scolded as a child for looking with her fingers, that had never dissuaded her curiosity; instead, she glanced over her shoulder before pulling a handful of vinyl record sleeves from the shelf to inspect the album covers. It was another bust. She only recognised two of the artists, and so she placed them back with a huff.


    Turning away from the bookcase, her eyes wandered around the living room. On the coffee table sat a black glass ashtray, similar in size to the coasters that accompanied it. Next to them, placed as if to tempt her, were a packet of cigarettes and a book of matches. Karou wasn''t actually a smoker, but she had stolen a smoke or two from her mother throughout her adolescence¡ªshe stopped because she never noticed. Lighting up seemed like a good idea at the time, but the moment her mouth filled with the smoke of her first drag, she regretted her decision¡ªshe''d forgotten how rancid cigarettes tasted. Now, she was stuck with a barely smoked cigarette and a match to dispose of, and seeing that an ashy graveyard did not inhabit the ashtray, the lone stub would stand out.


    Karou was in the bathroom, flushing the cigarette and washing the bitter taste out of her mouth, when she heard Warren''s austere voice boom over the running water, inquiring where she was. Peeping out of the doorway and down the hall, she saw him waiting for her at the front door.


    "Follow me," he instructed, holding the door open for her. "And stay close."


    When she asked where they were going, he reasoned that even if the amount of time she had to stay was undetermined, she should know her way around. When she''d noted that several other similar-looking buildings surrounded his home, he sternly commanded her to steer clear of the ''nocturnal quarters'' and their residents. Warning her, "If you ever enter one of those units, you''ll never come out."


    While her new keeper led her around the labyrinthine corridors of the Compound, they inevitably found themselves back in the common room she''d briefly seen the evening before. Her eyes were drawn to the cosy Chesterfield sofas arranged before the open fireplace. Still, the way they lit up, captivated by the library, caused Warren to smile to himself secretly.


    On their walkabout, they passed people of all sorts, and each stared at Karou. Some were so bold as to turn their heads to look longer. She wondered how obvious it was that she didn''t belong there and that she was Mortal. Of course, she knew they weren''t. They were Mythicals of every Western species¡ªan eclectic community. Contrary to Karou''s assumptions, Warren knew their attention was likely due to her being with him¡ªno one had witnessed him keep any kind of company during the time he''d lived there.


    Warren eventually led Karou outside to tour the grounds. They bumped into one familiar face: the guard with the kind smile. Unlike the night before, he was dressed down because it was his day off, but what was the same was his smile. As they approached, he grinned at her, pleased to see that she''d made it through interrogation. Though, he couldn''t help but be curious as to how she''d managed to survive.


    Karou''s curiosity about the lupine was equally piqued, and Warren noticed her head tip to one side¡ªthe bird-like movement seemed to be one of the strange girls'' mannerisms. He also couldn''t help but notice that the Lycan''s eyes lingered on Karou''s neck¡ªhe knew what he was looking for, and it irked him. Fortunately, Nate was in the company of the West Gate''s head guard, which allowed them to pass by without being waylaid by chit-chat and pleasantries.


    Though the pair laboured a little way behind Karou and the Overseer, they all headed towards a tumbled-down section of a dry stone wall that the cobbled path led through. It subsequently diminished into nothing more than a rough dirt track once they were past the rubble. Despite the Compound grounds, gardens, and courtyard being open to the sky, it was never far from Karou''s mind that they were in the middle of the wilderness. Quickly, they were surrounded by trees. Trees of all genera circled the outer wall, standing as an extra layer of protection from the Mortal world''s seeking eyes. Karou could''ve been excused for assuming that they were now beyond the wall, but Warren assured that, in the distance, it still enclosed them.


    There was something nostalgic about being amidst the trees with him. Suddenly, she announced, "Uh¡ªI''m Karou, by the way,".


    "I know. I hadn''t forgotten. You have such an unusual name," he assured and almost smiled, much like he had done the first time she introduced herself.


    "You''re... Mr. Howard, right?"


    "Yes, that''s right." He nodded. "Warren Howard. But you can just call me Warren." And once again, as he briefly met her eyes while they walked, his lips twitched as if he might grin, but he didn''t. It was his eyes that harboured his smiles; they had returned to a stunning shade of blue that reminded her of the summer sky and all its calm vastness.


    Tucked between the maze of tree trunks and foliage, a building came into view. Karou watched the Lycan enter, and Warren explained that it was a tavern belonging to the community named The Brass Lantern. It was as quaint a building as its title, and just as the exterior promised, the interior wasn''t of the present age either. It felt as though they''d stepped back in time. Karou was awestruck, taking everything in, but they hadn''t been inside long when Warren was distracted by his cell phone ringing from his pocket. He answered it and immediately cussed under his breath.


    "Tour''s over. I have to take you back¡ª"


    "If duty calls Boss, I''ll take care of her while you''re gone." The Lycan, who hadn''t been far in front, interjected.


    Warren took a few moments to mull it over. While Karou looked between him and the Lycan, he looked between the Lycan and her.


    "Alright. Behave yourself." He warned Karou, "And Nate, bring her back to me before curfew."


    As Karou watched Warren leave, the stinking feeling that overcame her stomach felt ill-placed, but she couldn''t deny its presence. Fumbling with her fingers, she loitered in the lobby, cautious to enter the tavern through its inner double doors.


    "Don''t look so worried. I''m not half as scary as the Boss." The Lycan said, pushing open one of the doors to welcome her inside. "Would you like a drink?"


    Karou stepped up to the threshold and said, "Uh, no, I think I''m okay, thanks. Actually, I just wanted to look around." Peering inside, she imagined she could come to feel comfortable there. The building had the kind of cosy vibe she appreciated, but she couldn''t help feeling out of place while wearing the dirty clothes and soggy tennis shoes she''d arrived in.


    "Well, would you like to go explore someplace else then?" Undeterred, the Lycan flashed her his kindest smile, which she eagerly returned.


    With no money to pay for a drink anyway, what was the point of remaining in the public house? Exploring somewhere less crowded could help ease her self-consciousness, so she agreed; "Sure. That''d be great."


    Back out, under the trees, Nate introduced himself and suggested they walk northward a little; there, he showed her the West Gate''s delivery depot and where he lived in the Compound''s ''alternative'' living quarters¡ªhe lived with the Faefolk. He pointed out that the Lycan Village was just a little way further into the trees. Being that he was a Lycan, she wondered why he didn''t live there, too, but figured she didn''t know him well enough to ask yet.


    They chit-chatted, sharing the usual introductory information, such as how old they were, where they were from, hobbies, musical tastes and the like. Nate was doing a good job steering himself away from the questions he was dying to ask, but Karou had noticed that every so often, he''d sniff her, however discrete he attempted to be. His eyes also kept finding their way back to her neck time and time again. Gradually, she began to wonder whether his friendly demeanour was genuine since his odd behaviour was a little off-putting.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Before long, they crossed a bridge over a stream that ran through the grounds. It returned them to the main building. Once again, the books in the library called out to her like a homing beacon. Wandering the aisles, she figured that if she was going to stay here, wherever here was, she might as well make the most of it and read as much as possible.


    "There hasn''t been a new arrival in about three years," Nate commented as he reached an arm over Karou''s head to retrieve the book she was grasping for. As he placed it into her hands, he smiled toothlessly; he had such a friendly face and kind eyes. "No, Mort¡ªOne makes it through interrogation, ''especially not with the Boss..."


    "You want to know how I¡ªa Mortal¡ªmanaged to then?"


    Scratching the back of his neck, he shrugged and admitted, "Well... Yeah."


    "I don''t know. He didn''t really interrogate me," Karou answered, lifting her shoulders in a shrug.


    The growl from a grumbly, hungry tummy cut through the quiet pause between them. Karou''s brows shot up in surprise, which quickly gave way to embarrassment as a flush rushed into her cheeks.


    "Ha-ha¡ªC''mon, it''s about time I got you back anyway." They shared a chuckle, and then a new quest to take her back to the semi-underground apartment her host lived in began. "Say, he does eat, right?"


    ???


    It was almost sundown¡ªdiurnal curfew¡ªwhen Karou returned. Only the lounge''s standard lamp illuminated the place in subtle, yellow light. She wasn''t three steps inside when a deep voice called to her from over the room.


    "Always take off your shoes,"


    Startled by the sudden order, Karou''s head whipped around. There, she spied him, sitting ominously in the corner of the couch, half in shadow.


    "Please." He added more gently.


    "Yeah. Sorry." Her voice came out as a mutter. Feeling scolded, she obediently slipped off her dishevelled shoes and set them down beside his polished brown brogues. The two pairs of shoes could not have been more contrasting. As if matters couldn''t have been worse, her stomach growled loudly.


    "Huff. I guess you didn''t eat at the tavern, then," Warren hadn''t planned to eat that night; he''d consumed all the sustenance he needed that morning in the privacy of his office, but now it looked like he''d have to make an effort toward the girl''s wellbeing. He''d hoped she''d take the initiative and care for herself while keeping out of his way, but she was already a nuisance. Regardless, he offered, "Would you like something to eat?"


    "Uh, yes, please." As she answered, she wiggled her toes in her stained socks with a hole in the heel. "D-do you want me to make dinner? You made breakfast."


    "Are you a good cook?" Warren asked, straight to the point.


    Karou merely shook her head in reply. It would have been embarrassing to admit that all of her culinary attempts had ended in disaster, but it was the thought that counted, right?


    "Then, no, I don''t want you to cook for me," Warren stated in a tone that made her no longer feel polite for offering but stupid. When he stood from the couch to go to the kitchen, Warren noticed how Karou held herself and also how bedraggled she looked, so despite how rude his previous statement had been, he tried to show a kinder side. "You should go get washed up while I make dinner."


    "Ah¡ªa¡ªalright." She feebly agreed, still at a loss.


    Before she could ask, Warren nodded to the unit''s only hallway: "First door on the left. There are fresh towels in there, and feel free to use the uh¡ªproducts."


    "Thank you." Karou scampered away immediately, only for him to call her to attention again.


    "Hey, Karou! You can eat pasta, can''t you?"


    She couldn''t recall having mentioned that pasta was her favourite, but how pleased she was that that was what he planned to make broken out in a smile that beamed across her face while she enthusiastically nodded.


    Warren had barely any time to react before she disappeared, but somehow, the simplicity of her pretty smile had melted away the weight burdening his shoulders. Rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, he turned to his pantry cupboard and shook his head, muttering, "Oh, boy¡­ What have you got yourself in for?"


    Peeling off the clothes she''d been wearing for almost two whole weeks felt amazing, but the hot water was even better! The grime, sweat, and dead skin sloughed off of her. Her neglect melted away. Bathing in luxury was so far removed from what she was used to. The shower back home gave out a mere trickle compared to the rainfall effect of the sunflower-sized showerhead above her now. She could stretch her arms wide without getting caught up in a cold, clingy, mildewy plastic curtain. How pristine the tiles and glass were only made her feel cleaner. Taking in the sleek, grey-tiled, wet room she found herself in; she couldn''t help but think that if someone had taken this much care of how nice their plumbing looked, they must have a lot of money. It was just another thing that left her feeling overwhelmingly out of place. On their first meeting, Karou thought Warren must''ve lived a life beyond anything she could have dreamed, and she was right.


    Halfway into massaging Warren''s citrusy shampoo into her scalp, a trill of taps rattled on the door.


    "I''ve left you some clothes to change into on the bed."


    Wrapped in a towel, Karou dashed through the steam and straight into the bedroom. There, she found a pile of neatly folded clothes waiting for her, just as Warren had said. They didn''t fit, but they were more comfortable and cleaner than her shabby garments.


    Dinner must be ready. Even from the hallway, she could smell something delicious. Upon entering the kitchen, she found a piping-hot bowl of spaghetti in marinara sauce sitting on the granite island. Warren sat before one place setting, and across from him, he''d set her place. Next to his plate, he had what looked to be a journal or planner and was writing something into it. With his free left hand, he gestured to the bowl and invited her to help herself.


    All while he wrote in his planner, Warren''s mind was only half focused on his work. He was still contemplating whether it was fate that Karou had bumped into him twice in the space of four months and with over two thousand miles distance between their meeting places. Of course, he didn''t really believe in such things. Mostly, he thought that people created their destiny. Still, he couldn''t help but wonder, Was I meant to take you away in August?


    Dinner was quiet and passed unceremoniously, but Karou couldn''t remember when she''d had food so tasty. Warren was careful not to stare at her while she ate, but Karou wasn''t quite so cautious. Between fighting the urge not to abandon all table manners and scoff down as much spaghetti as she could, her eyes repeatedly returned to the man sitting across from her. She''d never eaten dinner with a lone male companion before.


    After wiping his lips on a cloth napkin, Warren lifted his planner and slid the thick paper binder from beneath it, over the granite, towards Karou.


    "What''s this?"


    "It''s protocol that I give this to you." Warren shrugged and got down from the barstool to clear away their dishes. "It''s a manual. ''The rules'', if you will."


    Karou pulled the document closer and flicked to the contents page. The headings caused her brows to rise. "Magik and Elemental manipulation regulations... Luna transformation regulations, Sanguine feeding restrictions, Diurnal and Nocturnal Curfew, Inter-racial conflict and relations directive." Karou read aloud.


    "You''ll notice there isn''t a section pertaining to Mortals, but as I said, it''s just protocol." When Warren glanced over his shoulder at Karou, it suddenly occurred to him that he was officially welcoming her into the Compound and into his home, no less. She was even wearing his clothes! In vain, he tried not to let his eyes linger on her too long, but how dainty she looked drowned in the jersey fabric of his T-shirt retained his attention. He''d already begun filling the sink to wash the dishes, but when his wandering eyes settled on flesh¡ªshe hadn''t bothered to dress her lower half in the lounge pants he''d provided¡ªa plate almost slipped through his fingers.


    The slapping sound the pages of the booklet made closing together roused him, and not a moment too soon, for he could feel the depraved voices in his mind gearing up to start their salacious jabbering.


    Warren flinched away when Karou promptly dismounted the stool and invaded his personal space in her eagerness to be helpful. "Oh, let me wash up. You cooked for me; it''s the least I can do."


    All he could muster was a weak agreement when backing away to allow her access to the sink. It took a great deal more willpower than he was comfortable admitting to make himself turn around and leave the kitchen without looking back to ogle her. Standing with her back turned to him, shirt hanging just below her buttocks and legs bare, while washing the dishes, she was an easy target.


    When Karou arrived in the lounge, she found Warren had splayed himself onto the leather couch as if he were utterly exhausted. Sensing that she didn''t know what to do with herself, he offered, "You can take the bed again. I''ll be fine on the couch."


    "It feels rude to make you sleep on the couch."


    "I agree that''s not an ideal solution, but for now, it''ll have to suffice," Warren stated so formally that it made Karou feel¡­ unwelcome. He had a knack for being mercilessly blunt; he came off as unfriendly. "I don''t have anywhere else to house you."


    Definitely, nowhere that I can be sure is safe. He couldn''t just bung her into an eight-bunked room with a bunch of other Mythicals. But I''m not entirely sure you''re safe here with me, either.


    "Go and get some rest. I''ve got some more thinking to do about this situation we''ve found ourselves in."


    "Okay¡­ Well, goodnight then. And uh, Warren, thank you. For everything," Karou muttered politely, leaving him stunned by how casually she addressed him.

 Chapter Seven -- Wardrobe Malfunction

    CHAPTER SEVEN


    Wardrobe Malfunction


    Saturday arrived. It was just another day, but it was another day Karou had survived.


    Immersed in the illusion of being washed in warm summer rain, the bright bathroom light illuminated her eyelids in sunshine orange while she contemplated her predicament. By some miracle, she had landed on her feet. Initially, that made her nervous; it seemed too good to be true, but she was determined to remain positive. Keeping everything in perspective was the only way to get to the other side of whatever this was, but it was no stretch to conclude that she''d never had it so good! Right now, her circumstances felt like a vacation.


    Wrapped in the largest and fluffiest towel she''d ever encountered, Karou sat on Warren''s queen-size bed, processing her stroke of luck. Sure, she had no idea who the man she found herself cohabitating with was, but so far, he hadn''t hurt her¡ªand he''d had four days of opportunity. It begged belief that she didn''t sense that the tall, dark, and handsome stranger was a threat. In the silence, she savoured the solace.


    Mr. Howard went about his daily business so quietly that sometimes Karou questioned whether he walked or levitated¡ªshe hadn''t attuned to his near-inaudible footfalls. He never lingered long in the living spaces. From what she''d glimpsed through the door on the far side of the lounge, she surmised that the room he disappeared into every morning was an office. Oh, boy, was this guy a workaholic! When he''d explained to her that his work consumed most of his time, she hadn''t understood to what extent. Some days, he would be cooped up in there for more than twelve hours¡ªshe''d counted.


    While he worked, she had free reign, but of course, she couldn''t leave the unit. Her host had insisted she eat what she liked from the kitchen, between the two square meals he prepared for her and was left to choose what to watch on the television every evening. Apparently, he didn''t mind, as long as he could relax on the couch with a glass of scotch and smoke to ''unwind'' before he passed out. All the niceties came at a price, though, because she had to endure his chilly demeanour and bluntness should she dare to speak to him.


    Pulling off the towel she had wrapped around her hair, it pleased her how pleasant it smelled. Quite generously, all manner of toiletries had been provided for her by the Friday after she''d arrived. Warren had made all manner of accommodations to help her feel at home yet went about it with a begrudging air. It wasn''t devastating since she''d never felt welcome in the household into which she''d been born, either, but she wasn''t some unfeeling thing, so the inconsistencies in Warren''s mood were annoying.


    Karou wasn''t one to complain; she lived by the motto that complaining never did anyone any good. However, once she was ready to get dressed, her face pinched¡ªshe discovered her underwear and socks were still damp. Since she had no other clothes save for what she had arrived in, she''d been washing her delicates in the bathroom sink and putting them on the heated towel rail to dry every day. Her jeans, top, and sweatshirt were overdue for a wash, but they were too bulky to do the same.


    I''ll have to ask Warren if there''s a laundry room, Karou was distracted in her thoughts, ambling towards the kitchen. It''s so strange having his name in my head. Warren. Warren Howard. Mister Warren Howard.


    "Good morning, or should I say afternoon?" The very person on her mind greeted her. Breakfast time had long passed. Karou was prone to getting up late, whereas Warren was an early bird. Oddly, he was taking a lunch break¡ªodd because he didn''t often remember to. Indeed, Karou was surprised to find him sitting at the kitchen island with a newspaper¡ªit was a broadsheet¡ªone with a title she''d never heard of before: ''In Guardianus''. "Don''t forget to eat." It had become a habit to remind her, he''d already picked up on Karou''s custom of only drinking coffee for breakfast. If she was going to stay, she might as well be healthy. It wasn''t so much a kindness as he thought a healthy Mortal was less likely to cause him trouble.


    While she poured coffee into her cup, Karou sensed his cool gaze on the back of her neck. Often, the way Warren looked at her made the tiny hairs all over her body stand on end. It got her thinking; her cohabitee was of so few words that most of the things she''d learned about him were merely observations. Anything she knew was actually just speculative. Since he hadn''t verbally told Karou what species of Mythical he was, she could only go on the small clues his appearance indicated. His eyes would periodically change colour, from a breathtaking shade of crystal blue through shades of sapphire to onyx, and then periodically return to blue.


    Sipping her coffee, she turned to face him and caught him staring, but when he looked away so quickly, she couldn''t be sure her eyes hadn''t tricked her.


    "Uh, yeah¡­ Good morning." She heard herself utter timidly. It made her cringe and internally scold herself. Oh God, Karou, pull yourself together! She cleared her throat to speak, this time with a little more conviction."Have anything interesting plan¡ª"


    "Your clothes," he cut in. Over the rim of his reading glasses, his eyes bore into her; such scrutiny made her swallow hard, and her gusto to speak up vanished. "You''ve been wearing the same for days."


    Pristine seemed the only fitting description of Warren''s hygienic state, but beyond that, he dressed impeccably. So it was no surprise that he''d noticed how scruffy and homeless she looked in comparison.


    Warren set down his newspaper, took off his spectacles, and picked up his cell phone without waiting for a response. "Hello, Ms. Finch. I have a job that requires your attention. Miss. Morgan needs new clothes." He paused, and Karou heard a muffled female voice reply. "Yes, the girl." Another pause, "Yes, everything¡ªhead to toe." And then, another reply, "Mhmm. An entirely new wardrobe."


    Suddenly, he held out the device for Karou to take. Gingerly, she did so while Warren was mindful that their hands didn''t touch. That aside, he continued his instruction; "Tell Ms. Finch your sizes and style preferences, and she''ll see to it that you get a delivery of new clothing."


    "Wait. I¡ª" Flustered, she looked between Warren and the phone until she heard Ms. Finch trying to initiate conversation, "Uh, yes, hello¡ª"


    Karou struggled with what to say beyond her dress and shoe size. She merely blinked, mouth agape, at some of Ms. Finch''s questions. Fortunately, Karou''s silence on the matter eventually prompted the woman to entrust the process to her. Politely, Karou uttered her thanks, relieved that the ordeal was over, and handed Warren his phone back. He tucked it into his pants pocket and stated that she was welcome without so much as looking up from his newspaper.


    "Uh, Mr. Howard, I don''t have any money to pay for new clothes."


    "Just Warren and that isn''t an issue."


    "What? Why?"


    "Because I haven''t asked you to pay for them." Warren looked at Karou briefly over his reading glasses as he pushed them back on and turning the page of his broadsheet. "If it means so much to you, you don''t have to wear them. You can walk around naked."


    How the girl''s cheeks flushed a pretty shade of peach wasn''t lost on Warren as he smirked deviously from behind the sheet of black print, but inevitably, the indecency of what he''d said dawned on him. "Ahem, I should be back at work." Warren excused him and retreated to his office at lightning speed.


    Good God! Why on Earth did you say that!? She''s a child! Haunted, he chastised himself, crashing down into his office chair.


    Hmm, but you''ve already imagined her without clothes during our little blood-letting fantasy. One devious whisperer mused.


    Warren shuddered; he couldn''t deny that it was true. Disgusted, whatever remained of his human conscience retorted, You''re a sick man!


    At least they both agreed on something.


    ???


    Eight o''clock had rolled around when Warren reappeared. Exiting his office, he saw Karou had snuggled up on the couch and was around three-quarters of the way through a movie. He''d gotten over the shame of his earlier comment and went about his usual clocking-off ritual as if she weren''t there.


    First, he removed his tie, then buttoned down his dress shirt two or three buttons, and finally removed his cuff links to roll his sleeves to his elbows. Once he''d poured a generous glass of scotch, he lit a cigarette and was primed to spend the rest of his evening doing as little as possible.


    Warren''s idea of personal space was more vast than most, so he sat around four feet away from Karou. At his comfortable distance, he lounged and stretched his arm down the back of the cushions¡ªbringing his right hand back toward him every once in a while either to sip his scotch or take a drag from his cigarette.


    Meanwhile, Karou said nothing but secretly watched as he sat in the adjacent corner of the U-shaped couch. When he brought the liquor glass to his lips, his eyes closed as he tipped back his head to drink, and Karou couldn''t restrain herself from peering more intrusively. The TV was no longer of interest because the angle at which Warren held back his head meant that his neck came to be on full display. That in itself wasn''t interesting, but the texture of his skin, which was layered with faded and smooth-looking scars in a mottled pattern of circular marks, drew her eye. Karou had noticed them before, but the opportunity to examine them hadn''t arisen until now. Mostly, she wanted to confirm that she hadn''t imagined them like any of the other odd details she''d witnessed about his person. Dare she ask what they were? Seeing as he mostly spent his evenings in silence and only broke it to bid her goodnight, Karou didn''t dare broach that subject. Also, because of its highly personal nature, she thought that maybe she''d never know. With a sigh, she turned her attention back to the flickering images on the flatscreen. Absentmindedly, she reached for the remote sat between them on the angular glass coffee table.


    Warren barely noticed Karou move while consumed with reaching relaxation. Still, the TV was a little too loud and was disturbing his wind-down. He leaned forward to set down the scotch glass and reached for the remote.


    Their hands touched.


    Two pairs of bewildered eyes beheld one another.


    No sooner had Warren''s hand grazed hers than it was gone¡ªhe retracted at such phenomenal speed as if her Mortal warmth had scolded him. Karou was left confused and mildly offended but didn''t know why. Did her curiosity about him extend to wanting Warren to be comfortable enough to touch her in these small, innocuous ways? That way, could they become casual around each other and eventually, maybe, become friends?


    The accidental touch had confirmed that his skin was as ice-cold as she recalled. Honestly, it hadn''t bothered her, but that was precisely what had frightened Warren away. Unpredictable as ever, Karou overlooked the obvious. What she focused on was more curious than his body temperature; the atmosphere Warren held an inch from his form that created a barrier between himself and the outside world. Warren was guarded, not just emotionally but physically, too. It gave the illusion that he was even more unattainable but only inspired a more profound interest in Karou. Just as Warren wanted to puzzle out Karou, Karou also wanted to decipher the enigma that was Warren Howard. Somehow, Karou had picked up on a detail about him that was just an undercurrent¡ªhis aero-kinetic armour. Despite the uncomfortable sensation it left on her skin, it was worth it to know that once his skin contacted hers, he let down his subconscious shield. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Out of nowhere, Karou giggled. Amused? Nervous? She didn''t know, but Warren, the mechanical and externally immaculate man, appeared flustered and¡­ shy. Her Mortal temperature had warmed his chilly exterior enough to make him jump and coaxed an unrehearsed, ''human'' reaction from him. It was startling in contrast to how he usually held himself.


    Alas, his fa?ade did him no favours in appearing ''normal''¡ª it was enough to put a person off him, but like everything else, it only piqued Karou''s interest. There had to be a reason he was like that. Was the trait abnormal enough to add to her list of characteristics?¡ªthe ones she was collecting and planning to use to decipher what Warren was?


    Along with the changeable shade of his eyes, there was a fragment of a memory from their first encounter that she couldn''t shake¡ªthe image of this striking stranger''s smile, illuminated by her flashlight. What his friendly expression revealed to her hadn''t frightened her, but she was sure he had fangs. The image and other clues combined into something so clich¨¦ that she didn''t dare speak it into reality. Perhaps if she tiptoed around the topic, Warren would simply confirm it in that blunt, semi-annoyed way. But the anticipation felt like an unreachable itch. She''d been about to bite the bullet and ask him when a series of knocks tapped off the door.


    Warren flitted off the couch and to the door like a man on fire. Craning her neck to see who was calling so late, Karou recognised the woman Warren was talking to. It was the receptionist from the night of her capture. So that must be Ms. Finch. Along with her was a boy who seemed to be struggling to keep the large duffle bag he was lumbered with elevated. The exchange she watched was formal and short and edging on rude. Then, after a brief and impersonal goodbye, Warren plucked the bag out of the boy''s hands as if it were a mere purse and shut the door.


    "Your new clothes are here," he announced, marching towards the bedroom. He didn''t linger long and left the bag on the foot of the bed, instructing Karou to "Go through it and keep whatever you like." Then he left and resumed his seat on the couch.


    In wonder, Karou unpacked item after item. Ordinary pieces of everyday clothing, suitable for the season, and all with her vague and ill-refined fashion sense considered¡ªMs. Finch had done an excellent job summing up Karou''s simple tastes and preferred colour palette with minimal guidance. A radiant grin spread across her face, her eyes aglow with joy. She''d never owned so many clothes! Though, it was inevitable that she couldn''t bask in happiness for too long. Karou sighed in despondence, looking over her horde. Self-deprecating thoughts crept closer until her mind spoke vicious words. This is too much. I don''t deserve any of this.


    Unbeknownst to her, Warren had only alluded that she had a modicum of privacy by leaving the room, but he could still see into the bedroom from the couch. He watched every minute detail of her face, how it changed, how her body moved in response to her feelings. ''Feeling'' was something Karou seemed to have in abundance. He''d become fascinated by this one of the girl''s attributes in particular¡ªhow expressive her eyes and face were. Whether her eyes twinkled with a smile plumping her rosy cheeks or glittered, welled with tears, he was drawn in¡ªlooking away felt impossible.


    Where usually his chest was an empty cavern, where the steady beat of his heart echoed, a cool and crushing coil of ''something'' ensnared his lungs, stalling his breath. The peculiar physical phenomenon that he was experiencing was similar in nature to that of some of his other urges: lust, thirst, greed, desire¡ªthe wanting feelings. When they arose,, he gratified them as quickly as possible, for they were so consuming that he struggled to function until he was rid of their distraction. This wanting feeling wasn''t quite the same, and he wasn''t sure how to quench it. The palpable sensation caused an alien thought to twist and writhe in his mind: could he ever possess what she had¡ªthat freedom of feeling? How could he have it for his own?


    Lifting the next item out of the bag, Karou found a kind of garment, the like of which she''d always wanted to own but had never found amongst the thrift store clothes her mom supplied her. She gasped and clutched the cloth to her chest gleefully. Glancing around the room, she spied a floor-length mirror in the hallway. With the dress hung down her front, Karou beheld her reflection, and for a moment, she dared to feel pretty. It was bittersweet and made her eyes sting.


    Something this pretty wasn''t made for someone plain like me.


    It didn''t take much to trigger her these days. After years of drunken, esteem-destroying monologues from her mother, she had started to believe the cruel words. Out of spite and jealousy, her mother told her how disappointing and unremarkable she was. Karou had learned long ago that there was no use in crying; she ignored her more when she cried.


    Now, despite the tear that rolled down her freckled cheek, Karou allowed herself one more moment to bask in the present. Although her situation was fragile, at least she had finally escaped her mother''s clutches. For better or worse, she would never look back.


    Wandering back into the bedroom, Karou wiped the tears from her cheeks, moved on from her moment of catharsis and continued digging through the duffle bag. So far, there had been very few items she wasn''t keen on¡­


    "Oh, my God!" Karou exclaimed, gawping, astounded.


    "Is there a problem?" Warren called.


    "Well, no... B-but why did M-Ms. Finch, get me this?" Karou was suddenly in the hallway and came face to face with Warren sooner than expected¡ªhe''d gotten up to see what the commotion was. To make her point, Karou displayed the skimpy silk and lace garment and waited for his reaction.


    "It''s... a... night-dress?" And incidentally, the kind that I rather like... A devious internal voice appraised without a filter.


    "No, it''s not!" Karou contested, the blush on her cheeks growing more opaque. "It''s a n-negligee."


    "Don''t girls like that sort of thing?"


    How quickly Karou had become flustered by a mere item of clothing was a testament to her innocence, and it both amused Warren and troubled his conscience. Again, the little devil that sat on his shoulder illustrated possible scenarios in which Karou might wear such a garment and how she might look in it. With ardour, he fought to ignore his seedier thoughts, determined to remain gentlemanly. While he was by no means an angel, the little character that sat upon his other shoulder shook his head in disapproval. Pervert! He cried. Indeed, Warren agreed with himself.


    "Women." Karou corrected without a second''s pause.


    "Uh, yes¡ªWomen like that sort of thing." Feeling that he was digging a hole and slightly hot under the collar, Warren turned on the spot and promptly returned to the lounge.


    "Wait. Just out of curiosity, how old do you think I am?" Karou retorted, following him to where the hallway opened into the space between the kitchen and the lounge in an artificial corridor, hand on her hip.


    "I haven''t given it much thought," Liar... His mind''s minions chided in unison. Indeed, Warren had said it rather too quickly to be convincing. "I¡ªI didn''t mean to imply that you weren''t a woman." He hoped she would turn around and leave it there, but of course, the feisty little thing had more to say.


    "I''m eighteen. Actually, in a few days, I''ll be nineteen. So, I''m not exactly ''a girl''."


    "Nineteen¡ªright, well," He swallowed hard, his jaw tensed to keep any expression from his face. As he''d suspected, she was only just ''old enough'', making his demons chuckle, rubbing their slimy palms together, speculating all things lustful and depraved. "Yes, well, you don''t have to wear it if you don''t want¡ª"


    Just as she was about to go back to the bedroom, she paused. A golden opportunity had arisen. Be casual, she told herself and asked, "Warren? How old are you?"


    "¡ªlike I said, if you don''t like anything, you don''t have to keep it."


    "Okay, thank you, but you didn''t answer my question¡­"


    Attempting to also act casual, he busied himself by gathering his cigarette packet from the coffee table and went about lighting one. "It''s difficult to say." He took a drag to sober him for this conversation.


    A pause stretched the silence between them, but Karou''s patience didn''t waver; she remained, staring him down.


    "I haven''t physically aged since I was twenty-eight."


    At a guess, Karou had ballparked his age at around thirty, but something about how he''d phrased his reply told her that that still wasn''t really the answer she was looking for. "How many years has it been since you stopped ageing, then?"


    The number wasn''t buried too deep into the pit of his mind, "Seventy-eight," though he parted with it after a long pause; all the while, his eyes remained fixated on the glass surface of his geometric coffee table as if the truth were somehow shameful to him.


    Across the room, Karou''s eyes widened for a second. Then, her head tilted while her brain figured out the maths. "You look good for someone who''s over a hundred." Appraising Warren''s handsome face one last time before returning to her task in the bedroom, Karou smiled kindly.


    The whole affair of marvelling at all the clothes had been kind of an emotional rollercoaster. She was ready for a rest and a good night''s sleep. So, Karou picked out what she perceived to be a cute bedtime outfit¡ªa pair of white cotton sleep shorts with a pretty broderie Anglaise edging and a camisole to match and shed her shabby clothes. It was therapeutic to throw away those fragments of her old life.


    Tying off the waistband''s drawstrings, she padded down the hall and back into the lounge. When Karou clambered back into her seat on the couch, she found Warren snoozing¡ªsat upright with his head flopped back into the cushions. After a long day''s work, dozing while the TV played ambient background audio, with only the standard lamp on, was peaceful.


    Quietly, she asked, "Can I watch another movie before bed?"


    "I don''t see why not," he mumbled sleepily, reluctant to open his eyes. When he finally did, they immediately homed in on Karou''s profile. She barely looked like the same person. It was pleasing to see her ripped, grimy jeans and moth-bitten shirt gone, but perhaps even more pleasant was how much skin she was showing: her neck and how her supple, pale skin fell off her shoulder and down her slender arms. His gaze had panned down her legs and to her feet¡ªfeet he recalled clothed in dirty, holed socks were now bare and as dainty and delicate-looking as her hands. After all the fuss Karou had made about the negligee, he stiffened, failing to see how this attire was any less lewd.


    She''s taunting me...


    Quit being so perverse. She hasn''t dressed like that for you! She''s just gotten into something more comfortable. His better side reasoned. Don''t be uncouth.


    There was no way to win the battle his mind had with his body; either way, he''d lose. Defeated, he rose from the couch and went to place his empty scotch glass in the kitchen sink, if only to remove himself from Karou''s presence.


    While the opening minutes of another movie rolled, Karou peered over her shoulder after Warren as he wandered toward the unit''s bedroom. She pondered whether the gift of clothing was his way of bargaining his bedroom back. He didn''t need to barter with her, though. She had nothing to bid with, nothing to stake her claim on; everything here was his.


    The moment Warren started unbuttoning his shirt, Karou knew looking away was the polite thing to do, but watching him tug the bottom of his shirt from the waistband of his dress pants and peel it back off his broad shoulders felt devious and thrilling and like nothing she''d felt before. Sure, Karou had seen shirtless men before, but seeing a chiselled, touched-up, and plastic-looking person on the front of a magazine was quite different from seeing someone unfiltered in the flesh.


    Caught up in her daydreaming, Karou hadn''t looked away, and Warren was heading back towards the couch, redressed for bed in a plain white T-shirt and blue pinstripe pyjama pants. Even without his expensive wristwatches and perfectly combed hair, he still managed to look effortlessly suave. Karou expected that he would attract all manner of people, regardless of gender.


    "Did you pick out a movie?"


    "Uh, no. I''ll pick something now." Karou reached for the remote, scrolling through movies and thinking of Warren''s hands and his temperature all over again. Tonight, she wouldn''t pluck up the courage to ask what he was.

 Chapter Eight -- Situated

    CHAPTER EIGHT


    Situated


    Three weeks of sleeping on the couch were all he could bear! In truth, some nights, Warren had chosen not to sleep at all because he hated the sleeping arrangements so much. Being gentlemanly to his detriment, he had allowed his ''guest''¡ªa term he used loosely, to commandeer his bed. It depressed him to have found himself sleeping on a couch at this time of his life, and all because of a woman, too. So, on that Tuesday morning, he''d woken up around six AM, searching for a solution.


    Karou wouldn''t be awake for hours. She regularly slept until noon, only to stay awake past midnight. Her sleeping pattern juxtaposed Warren''s, but he knew that her routine of ''late to rise, late to rest'' was a habit kept by many youngsters. On the other hand, Karou wasn''t lazy once she was up and about; she was always eagerly searching for something, anything to do. Drawing and reading seemed to be her favourite pastimes, but he thought he wouldn''t ever get used to her late-night movie marathons. She was polite enough not to have the volume high, but it was her presence that he hadn''t adjusted to. He''d become addicted to being alone once he''d come to appreciate how peaceful it was.


    For all fifteen minutes he spent showering, Warren considered how to fix their sleeping arrangements. He had considered letting Karou keep his room and setting up another bed for himself in his office, but he quickly dismissed the idea. The fact that he could close the door on his work during the evening was the only way he could tear himself away. One of his flaws was his proneness to overwork himself in his quest for perfection.


    Rubbing a towel over his hair, he exited the steamy, wet room and there, stalled in the hallway, he had an epiphany. The answer was staring him in the face! Opening the door before him, he assessed a possible solution¡ªthe closet. It was a generous one and currently only housed a few boxes of his less favoured books, a vacuum cleaner, a mopping bucket, and a few other cleaning supplies. It could easily be emptied and made more "comfortable". Sure, it lacked windows, but the unit as a whole wasn''t blessed with a deal of natural light; it was halfway underground.


    Feeling inspired to enact his plan, Warren dressed quickly and started making arrangements with the appropriate staff to deliver the furniture he''d need to transform the space into Karou''s new sleeping quarters.


    The room''s bare bones were bleak, with the wire shelf that ran the left-hand wall being its only distinguishing feature. Still, by eleven o''clock, Warren had introduced a desk, bookcase, bedside table, and an iron-sprung bed frame into the space. Laying out the last decorative pieces¡ªa rug and a desk lamp, he figured Karou would have to add personal touches herself, but at least now she had some semblance of a private space to call her own.


    Hmm, when should I mention that I''m taking my bedroom back? So far, Warren had found it difficult to converse with Karou casually, and seeing as he wasn''t expecting her to be thrilled that he planned to house her in a closet, he excused himself from being reluctant. She''ll have to sleep on the couch if she won''t sleep in there; at least, that''s what he figured he''d tell her if there were any arguments. God forbid she had a teenage tantrum!


    Karou awoke and, while going through the motions of her first daily ritual, getting her caffeine fix, she unexpectedly came upon Warren. He was sat at the kitchen island, where he''d resigned himself to waiting for her to get up. His laptop remained open, and although he appeared to be working, the moment she''d entered the kitchen, his focus had vanished.


    "I''ve got some news," he announced, poised for Karou''s reaction.


    Karou set down her coffee mug and clambered onto the seat across from him. With a peaked brow, she simply inquired, "Oh?"


    "I''ve found somewhere else for you to sleep," he said, closing the laptop to show he meant business.


    "Oh?" Curiously, her brow rose higher, as did her tone.


    "Follow me, I''ll show you."


    When she saw they were nearing his bedroom, she volunteered to get dressed, assuming they''d be leaving the unit. But then, he stopped, shot her a quizzical look, and opened the door to a room she''d never taken any notice of until right now. Karou cast her eyes between the room before her and Warren, and though he scrutinised the details of her face, he couldn''t decipher the meaning of her expression. Her blue eyes gleamed wide; her brow pushed even higher than her curiosity had moved it.


    "In here? This is where you want me to stay?"


    Warren tensed, unsure if he was sensing disappointment. "Yes¡­"


    Tentatively, Karou ventured inside. "I didn''t know your place had another bedroom¡­" Her eyes settled on the freshly made bed; the bedding looked brand new and cosy, boasting a thread count on the other end of the spectrum from what she was used to.


    "It didn''t¡ª" Warren was deflated to admit, "¡ªit was a closet." He rubbed his hand through the back of his hair.


    "Well, it does now." Karou turned to find her host wearing a sheepish, bashful expression, the likes of which she''d never seen him make before. It didn''t steal her beaming grin, though; it broadened it. She cheerfully exclaimed, "Thank you. Thank you for giving me my own room."


    Dumbstruck, Warren sighed in relief. Somehow, everything had worked in his favour. For a short while, he stood redundantly, watching in awe and unable to stop his lips from twitching with the urge to smile as Karou explored the admittedly small space as if he''d granted her ''the cave of wonders''. Would he ever find her reactions anything other than baffling? He thought not.


    Karou eagerly situated herself in her new room. By that afternoon, her desk was set up; a ceramic mug had become home to various pencils she''d acquired from Warren, along with a pad of paper. The room was a little homier, with some of her most recent drawings tacked to the walls.


    The chest of drawers held all her new clothes, but one piece of furniture remained mournfully empty¡ªthe bookcase. Books were her favourite thing. She was itching to pay the Compound''s library another visit. However, Warren''s number one rule stipulated that she should never leave the unit unaccompanied. Since he rarely spared any time from his work, she got the feeling he wouldn''t be willing to interrupt his schedule and escort her. Ever optimistic, though, she thought it wouldn''t hurt to ask. If only she could get her feet to move her beyond the threshold of her new bedroom.


    In baby steps, she tip-toed over the hardwood. Her lower lip reddened beneath her nervous, gnawing teeth. At her sides, she raked her fingers into her warm palms.


    "If you''re trying to sneak up on me, you should go ahead and give up." Turned halfway around, Warren stared her down over the back of the couch. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    "I wasn''t trying¡ªnever mind, I just wanted to ask if I could go to the library."


    Pondering, Warren stroked a hand down his chin. "Go and get dressed; I''ll work something out so that you can go."


    Giddy, with a spring in her step, Karou disappeared into her room and returned in fresh clothes just in time to hear a gong-like knock vibrate off of the unit''s metal door.


    "It''s for you."


    Inexplicably, her heart sank when she realised Warren wasn''t going to be her chaperone¡ªhe''d obviously called one of his skivvies to take her. Fully expecting to find no one she knew beyond the door, she opened to a pleasant and welcome surprise. It was Nate. The smile on his face was infectious.


    "Oh, it''s you." Karou beamed.


    "So it is. Orders are I''ve gotta take you out. You ready?"


    "Yeah, let''s go."


    "Dinner will be ready at six. Be back for then." Warren ordered from the couch, too busy to even look up from his work.


    "Yes, Sir."


    ???


    Side by side, Karou and Nate left the unit and the bleak outer corridors behind until the homely lights of the Compound''s inner sanctum bathed them.


    At this time of day, the Compound''s community lounge was a hive of activity. There wasn''t a seat to spare around the blazing fireplace; chairs had even been borrowed from elsewhere so that those who weren''t participating in the card games and chess matches could still watch and socialise.


    Karou had gathered that there wasn''t an abundance of stimulating activities available to fill one''s day, but life continued nonetheless. The residents had seamlessly adopted low-tech pastimes. Of course, there were those who had volunteered to work and help run the place¡ªlike the gentleman whom she found herself standing before.


    Near the library''s entrance, tucked into an alcove, sat a large mahogany study desk. Behind it, perched upon a red leather, chesterfield-style captain''s chair was a man. He peered through hornrimmed spectacles at the pile of books to his right and to his left, his hand busily checked off a list.


    Gesturing toward the man, Nate suggested she acquaint herself with the head librarian, Alder Pitkin, and that he''d meet her inside, by the fiction section.


    On her approach, the librarian made it clear that he knew he was required, but held up his hand, index erect, and requested ''one minute''. Meanwhile, he reeled off the last book titles on his list and checked them off.  Taking off his glasses to better see Karou''s face, he smiled and asked, "Right then, Miss, how can I help you?" Which made something else about his person clear: his accent, he was Scottish.


    "I''d like to borrow some books, please."


    "Aye, go ahead. I''ll book them out when you''re ready."


    "Oh. Okay then."


    Karou felt the interaction to be somewhat anticlimactic, but then the man stood, a short four feet tall, and led her into the maze of bookcases.


    "What genre takes your fancy? We''ve got a decent enough collection here."


    The question fell on her deaf ears because tucked close to the silk back of the man''s waistcoat were four iridescent wings, veined like delicate stained glass. Alder Pitkin was what she''d heard people call ''Fae''.


    "There''s only a few rules. We only lend out six books at a time, and I''m supposed to tell you that you have to bring''em back w''in a fortnight, but I''m pretty lenient about that. The night clerk though¡ª" Alder glanced over his shoulder at Karou, puffed his cheeks and rolled his green eyes. "¡ªI would''nae bring any overdue books back to him. He''s a foul temper, an'' he''s a great troll of a man¡ª" and so he went on talking, and Karou hadn''t gotten a word in edgeways, and neither had she been listening, for she was so enchanted by the man''s magnificent wings. When he sharply cornered a bookcase, they quivered behind him, having caught the air. The banker''s lamps that arched the study desks cast off an orange light. The way it shimmered a copper colour over the surface of his wings was eye-catching and much the same colour as the auburn braid that hung between them.


    Up ahead, Karou spotted Nate standing beside the bookcase marked "E" in the Fiction Literature section. He was talking to the girl who was restocking from the brass trolley beside them. At first glance, Karou presumed the girl was standing on a ladder, but on second glance, she spotted the four thrumming wings at her back¡ªmuch the same as Alder''s and just as stunning but periwinkle and lilac in colour. Although Karou had tuned out of Alder''s babble, she caught the tail end of Nate''s chatter.


    "Hey, June, I''ve got somethin'' to show you." She shot him a look, "Trust me, you''re gonna want to see this¡­"


    "It better not be another tick ''cause that was disgu¡ª" and that was when the Fae girl clocked Karou, clued in by Nate''s nod in her direction. The following few words she said Karou couldn''t match to any language she''d heard before.


    "Juniper!" Alder exclaimed, alarmed and clearly understanding the foreign words. "Wait, what?" Something occurred to him, and he whipped around to eye Karou. "You''re human?"


    "They''re called Mortals, Alder." Juniper spat. Now, back on her feet, fast approaching and focused entirely on Karou. "I can''t believe it! An actually Mortal, here, at our Compound."


    Karou''s smile was strained; she wasn''t very good at being the centre of attention. "Uh, hi¡­"


    "Well, hello. I''m Juniper, but everyone calls me June. What''s your name?"


    "Karou."


    "Ka-Rou? That does''nae sound very Mortal¡­"


    "Ack, now who is being rude." Alder chuckled, swatting the Fae girl''s upper arm.


    "You''ll have to excuse them; they''re very sheltered," Nate interjected. "We''ve come for some books, and we''d better get looking if I''m going to get you back for dinner time."


    The rest of that afternoon was pleasant and spent doing what Karou liked best: choosing new reads.


    Juniper never left her side, and though she had lots of questions, every one of Karou''s answers was rewarded with June sharing some token of information about herself. The girl buzzed around like a fly, slightly annoying, but how could Karou''s annoyance remain when she was such a pretty, fascinating and dainty creature? Truly, June made Karou''s five foot two inches feel tall compared to her three foot seven stature. That feeling might''ve gone to her head if it wasn''t for the six foot and some Lycan that accompanied them.


    Nate and Juniper both lived in the Alternative Accommodation together, but Karou still hadn''t the courage to enquire why that was the case. Juniper came from a large family of Fae, and their home was called a nest. Juniper''s mother was the family''s matriarch, but she didn''t live at the Compound with her mate and their children. Instead, she ferried too and from the Faerie Vale, taking those of age to safety, far away from the Mortal Realm¡ªThe Compound was just a stop on a long journey elsewhere for the De''en©\Pitkin Fae. Karou avoided talking about her mother as much as possible, but it was relatively easy to do so when Juniper seemed hellbent on finding out what it was like living with ''The Mr. Howard.'' Although June''s curiosity was harmless, Karou knew quite a lot about curiosity and so naturally, she was wary of the questions. She wasn''t sure if it was a test, and she didn''t want to speak ill of a man who had given her shelter.


    Nate and Karou arrived back at the unit with only minutes to spare. When Warren let them in his eyes, he immediately homed in on the large, well-stocked box Nate was carrying. Juniper had bent Alder''s lending allowance to splintering point so her new friend could fill up her bookcase.


    "Did you leave anything for anyone else to read?" Warren enquired, planting the box down onto Karou''s bed; it creaked and sagged beneath the weight.

 Chapter Nine -- Mentor & Sire

    CHAPTER NINE


    Mentor & Sire


    The festive season was upon them. Thanksgiving had passed, but Christmas was just around the corner. Though he thought he was far too wicked to rest, Magnus had persuaded Warren to take a few days off, which would allow him and Ellis their Yuletide visit.


    The night before their arrival, Warren had barely slept for worrying. The idea of his mentor and Sire meeting the odd, Mortal girl he had living with him set his stomach churning. Would they make a big deal of it or ignore her like he so often did?


    The Compound''s communal lounge had become familiar to Karou. Since her arrival, she''d spent several afternoons there. Nate had become something of her shadow lately¡ª Warren called on him to act as her assigned chaperone. Nate never made her company feel like another one of his duties; no, he was genuinely her friend, and his presence was a comforting security blanket. She''d also become better acquainted with the other guard who had carried her into the Compound, Katou Kenichi. He''d explained he was a Demonic Kin, which she later learned was a way of saying you were demonic without having to go into the details of what kind. The Fae girl, Juniper, was now a constant companion of Karou''s whenever she wasn''t in the unit, too. Karou was happy to have found some folks to call friends.


    On the odd occasion that Nate was too busy with work, Warren would step in. Today was one such day. Karou felt actively guarded by him, unlike Nate, who did the courtesy of allowing her the illusion of freedom. She never felt overshadowed by the Lycan, but Warren''s shadow was palpable, oppressive and chilling. He would usually sit doing what he was doing now, puzzling his way around a crossword on the back page of his newspaper. Whenever she attempted to involve him in conversation, he''d give short, evasive answers or sometimes just grunts, which came across as alarmingly rude and left her wide-eyed and red-faced. She''d come to accept that the old, icy, and easily perturbable man wasn''t what you might call ''a social butterfly''. It begged belief that he could be less talkative in public than when they were alone at the unit.


    Karou couldn''t hold how uncomfortable he made others feel against him, though, because she was stuck with him. Fortunately, she was nothing if not forgiving, but her illusion of freedom was just that. It only lasted while Warren was tied up with work, and if he could have afforded to work less, she would never have been allowed to leave his side. Although Warren had insisted she was chaperoned merely to keep her out of trouble, Karou knew it was to ensure the ''other kids'' played nicely with her.


    The tactic of having either himself or Nate ever-present worked. However, it was odd that people tended to avoid her personable Lycan friend, and Karou hadn''t figured out why. It was no longer a mystery to her why Warren was given a wide berth. If anyone said anything to her that might''ve been remotely offensive, all Warren would have to do was clear his throat, and the subject would swiftly be changed. Indeed, his influence over those he housed in his facility was formidable. Even if no one liked him, they respected or feared him to some degree. Karou still wasn''t one hundred percent sure how she felt about that. It didn''t help that she barely knew anything about the man.


    Maybe, if the visitor he''s waiting on is chatty, they might spill some tea¡­


    Given the time of year they''d chosen to pay a visit and Warren''s demeanour the past few days, Karou had figured they must have been important to him. Warren had been busy preparing the Compound to be at its best and on display.


    Although he was as guarded as ever when answering her questions, she''d figured out that the visitor was his ''Mentor and Sire'' through her well-placed probing. Furthermore, eavesdropping on one of Warren''s phone calls led her to the knowledge that this person''s name was Magnus.


    With her hands wedged under her thighs, legs swinging to and fro, Karou waited on the couch before the blazing fire. Though it was busy this time of day, it had been an hour or two since anyone had disturbed them. The silence was awkward. Every so often, she''d glance Warren''s way as he sat cross-legged in the highbacked armchair to her left, entirely focused on his crossword. His guest''s flight from Russia was due to land at ten o''clock. They were expected to arrive at the Compound by eleven-thirty, but it was gone noon, and there was still no sign of them.


    Karou huffed a sigh of incipient boredom and writhed in her seat. She had made a small effort to dress nicely in a pair of new jeans and a pretty white blouse under a burgundy, almost festive, cardigan, just in case Warren took it upon himself to introduce her to his guest.


    There was never a day Warren didn''t look impeccable, and that day was no different, but Karou supposed, on closer inspection, he''d trimmed his stubble into a neater shape. One thing Karou wouldn''t have known was that he was wearing one of the watches his expected guest had gifted him some years past¡ªhe was surprisingly sentimental that way.


    The clip-clopping sound of stiletto heels against the hardwood disrupted the homey crackling of the fire and signalled Ms. Finch''s approach. The Compound receptionist, who had come to be known as just Isabel to Karou, appeared and announced, "Sir, sorry to disturb you, but I believe they''re here."


    If a man could''ve moved faster, he would''ve taken flight, Karou recalled thinking to herself as Warren flitted past. Warren''s eagerness took both the women by surprise, and they shared a look of bemusement.


    Over the last couple of weeks, the two had shared some friendly conversations. Isabel had openly confessed to being a Vampire. Though she was a pleasant, mild, and quiet lady, she didn''t seem genuinely friendly to Karou. It was all a charade so that she could probe her about her ''odd relationship'' with ''Mr Howard''. All her questions had led Karou to one obvious conclusion: Isabel Finch was infatuated with her boss and entirely unrequited.


    Inclined to follow, Karou stood watching from the hall and saw Warren''s face beam with gladness for the first time as the man she presumed was Magnus embraced him. Upon first evaluation, Magnus looked middle-aged, perhaps in his forties. His head of long black hair bore a slight wave, but he wore it slicked back into a low ponytail. He was positively Mediterranean-looking, with a warm olive skin tone and equally warm and expressive brown eyes. She imagined him to be what a child might call a ''Papa'' because he exuded fatherliness.


    Once the men had finished greeting, Magnus turned to collect their luggage, and a woman stepped to the forefront. She was typically beautiful, and as pristine-looking as Warren. Not a single hair of her raven, curled bob was out of place and framed her heart-shaped face. She looked like a 1950s pin-up. Full, long black eyelashes fluttered over her cat-lined baby-blue eyes, and deep red lipstick set off her pale skin and delicately blushed cheeks.


    While Magnus'' attention was elsewhere, she boldly kissed Warren on the mouth. It lingered, suggesting a connection more complex than mere friendship, still, the public display appeared unsolicited and unwelcome by Warren.


    Soon, the friendly trio made their way towards Warren''s unit. Karou felt invisible. Evidently, Warren wasn''t going to make introductions.


    Why did you think it would be any different?


    Rather than sulk, Karou slinked into the library to find a book to get lost in instead. She wasn''t the type to wallow in self-pity and filled her day with a few hours of reading. Alder escorted her on a stroll to the tavern, where she gathered in friendly company and took a bite to eat.


    Not everyone at the Compound was friendly toward her, though. To some she was an unwelcome parasite. The gossip mill had been churning up petty rumours. From a particular corner booth of the tavern, frequented by some of Nate''s Lycan relatives and their motley crew, it was being whispered that ''the Mortal had adopted herself a lapdog''. While she slept in her bed at night, a nocturnal posse of Vampires and Demons, the likes of which she''d never met, were spreading salacious tales, spinning unfounded theories of what went on in the privacy of Warren''s unit with his ''little pet''. Nate and Juniper guarded her ears as best they could, but Karou was a curious creature who quickly picked up on the disgusted glares and muttered jeers whenever she went.


    The Grandmother clock in Compounds lounge struck ten and chimed and Karou thought that was probably late enough to head back to the unit, it was well past diurnal curfew. She''d been curled up on a sofa with a book for a while but hadn''t been reading it. Instead, she stared at the words, but had gotten lost in her imagination while Nate snoozed in the armchair.


    ???


    Magnus'' was nothing if not an avid storyteller. His theatrical monologue had dominated the conversation for most of the day, but as evening drew in, the more wine he drank, the merrier he got, and the more amusing his stories became.


    Warren didn''t mind; he''d always been a wallflower compared to his charismatic mentor. While Magnus had begun yet another tale, Warren and Ellis listened with faint smiles, merely enjoying the shared company. Ellis especially enjoyed being close to her fledgling. Having discarded her shoes to curl her legs beside her, she sat pressed into Warren''s side while he enveloped her there and rested his arm across the back of her shoulders.


    Karou entered to find the three of them like that, just as Magnus had finished his tale. Setting her shoes down by the threshold, she planned to sneak past and go directly to her room, where she could disappear for the night, but someone instantly noticed her presence.


    "Hola, Nina!" Magnus greeted her, confirming her suspicion he was Hispanic.


    At his outburst, Warren and Ellis turned their heads simultaneously to see Karou standing by the door, looking like a stunned deer.


    "You must be Karou, no?"


    "Uh¡ªYeah. Hello. I''m Karou. Nice to meet you." She managed, all while nibbling her bottom lip. "You... must be... Magnus?"


    "My my, what a sweet thing you are." The Spaniard flashed Warren a knowing grin, having also noticed Karou''s distinct scent. "Si, I am indeed Magnus. Come, come, sit with us. Would you like a drink? Maybe some wine?" Magnus lifted the bottle from the coffee table and patted the seat between him and Warren with a wide and toothy grin. Karou couldn''t ignore Magnus'' fangs, but they weren''t threatening when he was smiling so fondly. Still, they confirmed her suspicions about Warren were likely true; it was probable that all three of them were Vampires.


    Although she had hoped to slip away into her room, it would''ve felt rude to reject his invitation. Upon checking Warren''s reaction to Magnus'' invite, it didn''t seem like he minded her joining them, so she took the suggested seat obediently. She reasoned that she only needed to entertain them for a couple of minutes and then excuse herself.


    Karou looked relatively small and ill at ease among the three others. Though she sat on her hands reservedly, nothing about her shy affront put off Magnus, who was eager for her to be involved in their little fiesta. When she obliged him by taking a seat, he quickly grabbed one of the rock glasses from Warren''s liquor tray and poured her a generous splash of white wine.


    "Steady Magnus. She''s not old enough to drink," Warren warned, "and I don''t want to have to carry her to bed,"


    The words of warning fell on deaf ears, and Magnus wafted his hand nonchalantly. "Bah! Ignore him. Drink up and have a good time." The Spaniard insisted before chugging at his glass of the same. "So, Warren says you''re from New England?"


    Warren flashed Karou an apologetic look because he knew what was coming. For now, Warren had told Magnus just enough to save himself from incessant questioning. Karou, however, had gifted the Spaniard an opportunity. Now that he had the ''intriguing young girl'' within his grasp, he could resume his interrogation.


    Somewhere between Karou skilfully dodging the more alarmingly personal questions Magnus flung her way, Ellis had caught her looking at Warren for possibly the third or fourth time. Honestly, she hadn''t realised she was doing it, and it was mostly just for reassurance. Karou didn''t know Warren well, by any stretch of the imagination, but he was still not a complete stranger like she and Magnus. Warren hadn''t even paid any mind to her glances; he''d continued to drink his wine and smoke his cigarettes, all while casually meeting her eyes every so often, but Ellis flashed the girl a look¡ªa look that meant she was staking her claim. Karou found it odd¡ªas odd as their seating arrangement. Karou had learned that Ellis was, in fact, Magnus'' wife throughout the conversation, yet she didn''t sit next to him. Instead, she clung to Warren''s side, going so far as to suggestively brush her manicured fingertips through his sideburns and whisper inaudible things into his ear when Magnus was preoccupied. Magnus either didn''t see it or didn''t care. Karou presumed the latter; he had revealed himself to be quite the intellectual; she couldn''t chalk him up to being stupid enough not to see what was going on.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    All the wine was consumed by around one-thirty, and the conversation had wound down, too. Karou''s cheeks felt warm, and she''d drunk just enough to fix a contented smile onto her face.


    At Magnus'' announcement that he was ready for bed, she let out a small sigh of relief; the questions would stop now! He''d been friendly enough, if not over-eager, but Karou decided that overall, she liked him. Her first impression had served her right; he was fatherly in that dependable sort of way.


    The evening socialising was over, and Karou had watched as Ellis reluctantly peeled herself from Warren''s side and latched herself onto her drunken husband instead. Warren waved the couple off at the unit''s front door and turned with a sigh of relief, all of his own, once it was locked behind him. Tonight, he''d had enough conversation. It was exhausting for him to be sociable. Though the back-and-forth chit-chat he''d held with Magnus had genuinely been of interest, he''d unintentionally shown Karou a different side to him; he could be affable in certain company.


    "Well, wasn''t that fun?!" Warren asked in a tone that Karou couldn''t tell whether he was being sarcastic or not. He wandered back toward the couch, tugged his tie free of his neck and, without reserve, proceeded to completely unbutton his shirt and untuck it from the waistband of his dress pants.


    "Uhm¡ªYeah. I really liked them. Especially your Sire." Karou uttered. In her awkwardness, she fixed her blue eyes onto the assortment of empty wine bottles that littered the coffee table. Though it wasn''t something Karou was usually inclined to do, she had been drinking, so internally, she prayed she wouldn''t burst into a fit of girlish giggles. She continued to look anywhere but at him as he slumped back onto the couch. This time, Warren sat closer than usual, and momentarily, she considered shifting away.


    "Mhmm, Magnus is easy to get along with. He''s probably my favourite person," Warren admitted with an honest if not slightly merry, toothless grin. He''d had his fill of alcohol, making him docile and almost amicable. "¡ªbut you liked Ellis too?" To this, he raised a singular eyebrow. What the expression did to his face drew Karou''s undivided attention. When he was like this, he was as easy to talk to as he was to gaze at.


    "Wh-what do you mean?" Karou asked at a loss, or perhaps she was just distracted now that she''d looked at him directly. Inexplicably, the room suddenly felt sweltering! Yet, how his chest hair lightly littered his pectorals and thinned to nothing down his torso until a naturally defined line reached up to his naval from beyond the waistband of his pants continued to attract her eyes, though she was trying not to stare.


    "You said especially, my Sire. Ellis? You liked her?" Warren asked again, making his meaning more explicit. "The woman''s notoriously unlikeable. Even I admit to flitting between hating her and finding her tolerable at best."


    "Ellis, is your Sire?" Snatching her eyes from wherever they''d wandered to reinitiate eye contact, Karou expressed her surprise. Like all her emotions, it was as plain as the nose on her face. "I thought Magnus was your mentor and Sire and that Ellis was just your girlfriend... Wait, no, I mean wife. No! I mean Magnus. Magnus'' wife!" Now she felt stupid and looked into her lap, blushing.


    "Ellis isn''t my girlfriend. She was my mistress and became my Sire before she became Mag''s wife, though." Warren explained. He didn''t find her assumption anything other than an honest mistake.


    "I didn''t mean to judge! It''s just their behaviour didn''t exactly read as ''married couple''."


    "Ha! I know. If you can even call it a marriage," Warren smirked. He didn''t mind Karou''s judgment at all. Afterall, he''d spent the last fifty years trying not to. Try as he might, he couldn''t understand the point of being ''together'' if fidelity went by the wayside, even if his own reputation for monogamy was historically dicey.


    Karou was surprised that he agreed with her; the last few weeks living with Warren had been nearly unbearable. She was sure he hated her or found her annoying at the very least, but now he was chatting so cordially that it was confusing. Whether it was just the wine talking or the pleasant company that had lifted his mood, Karou didn''t care; she was happy to bask in the effect.


    Enjoying the jovial tone of their conversation soon turned bittersweet for Karou. It hadn''t taken her long to realise that these happy moments were fleeting and came in waves that depended on a finite number of factors that influenced Warren''s mood. She sighed while her hands busied themselves, picking at her fingernails.


    It seemed that they didn''t often catch each other''s glances, but now that she had stopped looking at him, he focused on her, whereas before, he had been obliviously staring at the ceiling.


    "You look smaller when you do that." He muttered in an uncharacteristically gentle tone.


    "When I do what?" She muttered back.


    "Hunch your shoulders, look down and play with your fingers. Why''re you acting shy?"


    "Maybe I am shy? At least sometimes I am." Karou shrugged. The movement caused her cardigan to shift from her shoulder and tumble down her arm. She didn''t seem to notice, but Warren did¡ªit revealed just a little more of her pale, porcelain skin to his already thirsty eyes.


    "Everyone here seems to like you and has an easy time getting to know you. You can''t be that shy."


    "I don''t mind being friends with people who are bothered to take an interest in me,"


    "Is that a dig at me? Have I not been interested enough?" Warren ventured, even though he knew he purposefully ignored her most of the time. Frankly, he didn''t know if he could deliver if she wanted more attention.


    "I should go to bed. It''s late." Karou announced unexpectedly. She wanted to avoid answering him if possible. He''d been good to her in so many ways, and she didn''t want to seem ungrateful. He hadn''t exactly made an effort toward her regarding extending the hand of friendship, but he hadn''t been especially cruel.


    Standing from the couch, she went to walk past and escape the awkward situation forming between them but Warren ambushed her, as she tried to wriggle past he captured her wrist. His purpose hadn''t been to hurt her; he just wanted to waylay her exit, but his grip was certainly too firm for her to free herself from easily. By his immortal standard, he was being careful to be gentle.


    "Karou, do you think I should pay you more attention?"


    "You don''t have to. I didn''t mean it like that. Yo¡ªyou''ve done enough for me already, Warren. I''m grateful." Karou explained as she feebly tried to retrieve her arm.


    There it was: the truth. Karou had tried to be kind, but all she''d done was confirm his worst fear. He''d done it numerous times before when he''d fallen short emotionally; he''d brought her satisfaction. Defeated by her honesty, Warren let go of her wrist and sighed, "Good night, Karou." Upon his retreat, he sank back down onto the couch and instantly dropped the subject.


    Escaping the minor confrontation to go to her room, Karou quickly undressed and got ready for bed. She hurried across the hallway to brush her teeth and rid her mouth of the wine''s musky aftertaste before Warren decided it was time for him to make his way to bed, too. The blush her cheeks bore from the amount of wine she''d drunk didn''t disappear when she splashed her face with cool water; it seemed she would wear it to bed.


    Reading a book by dim lamplight, she hadn''t heard Warren wander past her room to his own yet, but she could hear him tidying up. Bottles clinked into the trashcan as he discarded them, and the kitchen sink''s faucet gushed to life when he washed up their glasses. Eventually, he turned out all the lights until the only one left on was the one in her room.


    Just when he seemed to decide to retire to bed and began walking towards the hallway, Karou heard the familiar sound of the unit''s front door opening. Instantly, she flicked off her lamp but strained her eyes to continue spying.


    "Ellis, what''re you doing here?" Warren whispered into the darkness.


    "Magnus fell asleep quickly after all that wine. Surely you knew I''d come?" Ellis cooed and tugged at each side of his open shirt, trying to coerce him towards her.


    "Not tonight, Ellis; I''m tired." Warren protested, but she began to unbutton the front of the shirt dress she was wearing regardless.


    "Oh, don''t spoil a good thing now, Warren. Don''t you want to see what I''ve put on underneath this for you?"


    They''re having an affair! Karou thought, alarmed but jealous of the woman''s ''go get ''em'' attitude. Ellis wielded a level of confidence toward the opposite sex that Karou could never imagine possessing. Besides, she didn''t have the body for it, Karou figured. She could never hope to be as full-busted and curvaceous as Ellis. The boys she attended high school with never so much as looked her way, never mind men. Warren looked at Ellis how she imagined all women wanted to be looked at¡ªto feel desired, irresistible, sexy even. Perhaps she watched too many rom-coms or read too many romance novels for her assumptions to be accurate, but somewhere inside, it was her truth. She''d hoped to one day meet a great guy and experience that all-consuming love story books preached was universally possible. Mostly, she dreamed of a happy ending, that her life would turn out fine and, most of all, normal.


    With Ellis'' dress just a puddle of fabric on the floor, she revealed a stocking and lingerie ensemble beneath. It flattered her figure. It was plain to see that it pleased Warren. Just enough on show and just enough hidden to tease him.


    The temptress quickly found her way to what she wanted, and her lipstick left behind a smudged trail down his neck and torso. Once Ellis'' lips found their way onto his skin, he stopped his rejection of her and submitted to being devoured, and he stood there helpless to her advances.


    Karou couldn''t tear her eyes away, but when Ellis relieved Warren of his pants and underwear, she quickly buried her face into her pillow. How shameful it would''ve been to spy on him while he was so undressed! Cupping her hands over her mouth to muffle her gasp, she rolled over and stared wide-eyed at the ceiling.


    Eventually, she heard two sets of footsteps pad past her door and into Warren''s bedroom, but silence didn''t fall upon the unit. She could still hear them. Their antics and the sounds that accompanied them continued until Karou had no choice but to wrap her head in her pillow, hoping to block it all out.


    When her eyes flickered open to find it was morning, Karou was relieved that the night was over and rose out of bed, glad to start a new day. That was a unique experience in and of itself; Karou had never been glad of the dawning of a new day while she lived with her mother. A new day only meant fresh hell with new opportunities to be criticised, devalued, and generally neglected. Nowadays, she was mostly just ignored by the person she lived with. She could endure that, keeping in mind that Warren didn''t seem like the violent type, likely to give her a beating over the tiniest mishap. The irony! If only she hadn''t been so clumsy by nature, she might not have been so heavily victimised by her mother.


    Karou opened her bedroom door to go a yard across the hall into the bathroom. Half asleep, she heard her name called, so instinctively, she looked in the direction the greeting had come. With her hand grasping the bathroom door handle, Karou idled, staring into the doorway of Warren''s bedroom, where Ellis stood, wrapped in bedsheets, clearly naked beneath. As if it wasn''t already apparent what she had been doing the night before. Karou stuttered and blushed despite the woman having only greeted her good morning. These days, she felt like her cheeks might as well have remained permanently rosy for the amount of time she spent blushing. She was ill-equipped to deal with the stunning people surrounding her and the alarmingly unfamiliar situations she found herself in.


    Wow, you really kept your cool there, Karou. Yeah, that reaction was so mature. She sarcastically scolded herself, painfully wanting to fathom why her body betrayed her by acting so childish.


    Stumbling from one calamity to the next, Karou felt the door handle tug from her grasp. In a split second, her face and hands collided with a cool, damp surface: someone''s chest. Warren had finished showering and was rubbing a towel over his hair when he distractedly exited the steamy, wet room.


    "Ah!" Karou shrieked as she recoiled, "Oh my God. I''m so sorry!" The apology spluttered from her lips at the same rate she retreated. Stumbling back to where she''d come from, Karou slammed her bedroom door behind her. With her back pinned to its other side, she sunk onto the floor¡ªa flustered pile of hopeless teenage clich¨¦. At this rate, I''m going to die of embarrassment.


    "Aww, you must have scared the poor thing. Such a sweet little girl." Karou heard Ellis say in a ''coo-chi-coo'', condescending tone that added insult to injury.


    "Oh, come on, Ellis, she''s not a kid. She''s nineteen." Warren groaned, trying to reason with his mistress for Karou''s sake. She could hardly believe he was defending her.


    "Exactly, she''s still a child. Barely a woman and still a virgin, I bet." Ellis continued. It made Karou''s bottom lip quiver out of anger or sadness, she didn''t know.


    "As if her sexual maturity and status had occurred to me." Warren lied. He kept his tone level and dry to the point that he seemed disinterested in the topic, making him sound more convincing in his delusion.


    "I think it has to her. Didn''t you see how she blushed?"


    "She blushes all the time." He noted casually.


    "See! And that''s why it isn''t appropriate that she''s living with you. And she''s one of them, too. It''s irresponsible."


    "Which is it, Ellis? Irresponsible that I live with a female or that she''s Mortal?"


    Karou couldn''t listen anymore. Forget taking a shower or brushing her teeth! She dressed in whatever she found at hand and made a b-line for the front door.


    "I think she heard you..." Warren muttered, turning to watch Karou flee.


    A bone-chilling question dawned on him: if she''d heard them talking just now, what else had she witnessed the night before? He remembered that Karou had only just gone to bed by the time Ellis had shown up. An uncomfortable, overwhelmed feeling of guilt and embarrassment crunched in his stomach.


    It was astonishing how quickly he was able to put aside his pride the moment it occurred to him that she''d had ventured in the Compound alone. Dashing to the unit''s telephone he called on Nate first, but to no avail. Then in desperation he woke up a rather hangover Magnus.


    "Quickly, Mag, get dressed, we have to find her."

 Chapter Ten -- First Thaw

    CHAPTER TEN


    First Thaw


    Magnus and Ellis had been back in Russia for nearly a month, and still, Karou was scurrying around the unit like a mouse. She''d shrunken into herself, hoping that by doing so, she''d go unnoticed.


    That tactic hadn''t been effective. Warren had detected Karou''s behavioural changes, which highlighted there was an issue rather than disguised it. Exactly what was wrong with her; he didn''t know, and he wasn''t going to pry. He was still embarrassed that Karou probably knew what he and Ellis had gotten up to over Christmas.


    Warren''s embarrassment manifested as a perpetual annoyance when Karou was present. Though there was no conversation, he''d started to nag at her. Untidiness was one of his pet peeves, and he was getting tired of asking Karou to put her shoes away. Dirty dishes left in the sink for more than an hour was unnecessary, he thought. The TV remote was permanently abandoned on the sofa and never placed on the coffee table in its designated spot. Her corner of the couch was consistently cluttered with all the scatter cushions and not one but two blankets! Most mornings, she left toothpaste in the sink and hair in the shower''s plughole. Karou never put anything back where she found it. The list went on, and things infuriated him more as they mounted. All he''d done for weeks was bark orders at her. As a result, Karou''s demeanour had gotten more avoidant.


    They were trapped in a vicious circle. Living together would''ve been easier for both of them if they''d cleared the air, but alas, neither was brave enough to approach the other first. Though there would come a point when they''d have to talk, Warren was relieved that she hadn''t brought up his sexual escapades and that his life was back to normal.


    When it came to not breaking the thick silence between them, his stamina was holding up a lot better than Karou''s. Social distance was his forte, whereas Karou felt like she was suffocating. It turned out that being invisible here was almost as unbearable as being back in Hanover with her violent, drunken mother.


    The New Year had come and gone. Even though they''d both stayed up until after midnight, watching the worldwide celebrations on TV continue despite the war, they barely exchanged a word.


    A few short nights later, the tension would culminate on what had become a usual evening. Karou was curled up in the corner of the couch in her pyjamas. She''d been hugging a scatter cushion to her chest with her chin nestled into it. The movie she''d chosen for them to watch had taken a turn, and she''d forgotten that there was a rather graphic sex scene about a third of the way through. With a bright, amber-coloured blush painted across the centre of her face, Karou face-planted into the cushion with an annoyed groan as the two protagonists began to ''go at it'' at a vigorous and passionate pace.


    Warren had been watching Karou watch the movie, which he''d taken to doing a lot lately. He didn''t know why, but she usually amused him more than the film''s plot. If she particularly liked the movie and had seen it numerous times, she''d mouth the words during her favourite parts. The blush spread across her cheeks hadn''t escaped him. Briefly, he glanced at the screen to see what had set her off and seeing the two naked actors entangled in each other''s limbs made him bristle, too¡ªmemories of Christmas were still fresh in his mind. It occurred to him that perhaps Karou couldn''t watch because she was also privy to his recent antics. In reaction, he grabbed the remote from the coffee table and hit pause. Once the audio cut out, Karou peeped up from her hiding place and in Warren''s direction instead.


    "Would you like me to skip ahead?"


    "Yeah, that''d be great, thanks," Karou replied in a voice not much louder than a whisper, but at least they''d finally broken the silence.


    "D''you have a crush on the male lead?" Warren smirked and sipped his scotch¡ªa rouse to try and remain casual and keep his motive for probing her inconspicuous.


    "No, why?"


    "You''re blushing."


    "It''s just embarrassing to watch, that''s all. I mean, it never happens in real life like in the movies." Karou fumbled through her explanation. She wasn''t speaking from experience, but she didn''t want Warren to know that.


    "Art mimics life, but why compare the real thing to entertainment?"


    Her eyes rolled, "It''s not that entertaining."


    "Good thing, we get to do this then," Warren skipped forward from the scene.


    He had been about to press play and resume their silence when Karou lowered the cushion from her chest and angled herself toward him. "Warren..." She started.


    Alerted by his name, he set down the remote, prepared to listen. For a few stretched moments, there was silence.


    While he stared at her, she stared back until she admitted bravely, "I saw you and Ellis together at Christmas,"


    "Really?" His calm never wavered, though she''d brought up the one thing he wanted to forget. He hoped he hadn''t tarnished her innocence. A part of him was annoyed that she''d spied on them and not only heard their antics by accident. Sure, he hadn''t given her a choice other than to live with him, but he still valued his privacy. "How much did you see?"


    "Kissing. Mostly. I stopped looking before anything really happened. I didn''t really see anything." Her blush grew fiercer as she explained, and her focus on the couch more intense. She only dared to look at Warren sparingly to gauge his reaction, but his expression was challenging to read.


    "Thank you for being so considerate of my modesty. I''m assuming that''s what''s made you so timid lately¡ªyour embarrassment? I might not be much of a talker, but I''ve noticed your silence."


    "It wasn''t really that that upset me." Karou wasn''t sure upset was the right word to describe how she felt. "I mean, it was embarrassing, but what I overheard the morning after¡­ that bothered me."


    "You shouldn''t pay any mind to what Ellis says," Warren shook his head dismissively and hoped Karou would infer from his tone how fervently he believed most of what his Sire spewed was horseshit without him having to say so. "She''s bitter and probably just jealous."


    "Jealous? How could she possibly be jealous of me when she looks like she does?" Karou began to pick at her fingernails; it was a nervous habit that he''d questioned her about before. Keeping her eyes as distracted from Warren as possible, she hated the fact that Ellis was right about everything she''d said. "I-I will never look like her. I''m not and never could be in her league."


    "No, you''re not." Warren agreed.


    The snide comment stung Karou. Her brow pinched, and her eyes welled, but she remained silent, expecting no less.


    "Why would you want to look like her?" Warren asked, being careful not to give too much away. Knowing Karou to be a curious little creature, he didn''t want her to ferret around in his words too much and find the sentiment he was trying to hide. Nothing he said was meant to imply he didn''t find Ellis physically attractive¡ª he did¡ªbut he also thought Karou was pretty. It was a pity that she didn''t think the same. Though he''d long held that opinion since meeting her the first time, he felt that those words from his lips could do more harm than good.


    "I don''t know. I guess maybe then I would get noticed. Y''know, by boys, I mean men."


    "You get noticed by plenty of men." It was true. He''d witnessed many of the Compound''s male residents and staff ''notice'' her on more than one occasion. Some of them weren''t shy about it, either. Karou wasn''t looking for that kind of attention as much as she thought she was, he thought. The fact that she didn''t seem to notice them only made them stare after her more eagerly. Even Warren supposed she could be a tease.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "You don''t have to do that ''father figure'' thing. Y''know, like how dads tell their daughters how lovely and precious and ''beautiful'' they are to make them feel better," Karou whined and pulled the scatter cushion into her chest a little tighter.


    "Of course, how stupid of me¡ª" Charming, A paternal figure am I? "¡ªI couldn''t possibly have been saying that as just a member of the opposite sex." Grabbing his cigarettes from the coffee table, Warren lit up and sighed a plume of blue-hued smoke into the lounge to distract from how he awkwardly cleared his throat.


    That only needs to bother you if you want her to recognise you as ''a man'' and ''a possibility''.


    Thank goodness she couldn''t hear his seedy thoughts. It was probably for the best that Karou didn''t know Ellis was right; they were walking the fine line between what was appropriate and what wasn''t in living together. An older man cohabitating with a much younger and attractive woman, rumours were so easily concocted from that fact alone.


    "Well, how are you saying it then? Does someone here think I''m pretty? Are you saying that you find me¡ª" Karou paused and chose her words carefully, "¡ªattractive?" She asked, brave, despite fearing the ''obvious'' answer.


    Warren wanted to kick himself. To answer honestly was inappropriate, but to lie would have been cruel. "Perhaps a little more than I should. Why?"


    In the wake of his astonishing answer, he stared hard at Karou, but his eyes gave nothing of his inner turmoil away.


    "It would be pretty shitty of you to be saying that just to tease me." Her eyes narrowed; it was hardly threatening but showed her doubt.


    "I think a lot of men find you attractive, Karou; you just never pay them any mind. Why does it matter to you what I think anyway?" Warren took a long drag from his cigarette, shifted his legs into a crossed position, and faced her head-on.


    "It doesn''t." She lied, and her flitting gaze made that fact unconcealable.


    "Really?" Warren grinned deviously, affording himself the right to toy with her if she were going to be so forward. He leaned forward, flicking a tower of ash into the ashtray on the coffee table, and from under his brow, he stared hard. Aiming for his smouldering eyes to fluster her enough to answer all his intrusive questions. "That being the case, how do you find me? Handsome?" Warren pried, leaning forward in his seat; closer. "Maybe that''s why what I think matters to you."


    "I just said it doesn''t matter, didn''t I?" Karou snapped, her wide, lying eyes finding his. Instantly, from the smug look on his face, she knew she''d fallen into a trap. It took her a few moments to gather herself before quietly she continued: "But¡ªyeah, I do. But you already knew that. I think you know a lot of women do."


    "Hmm, well, you tried to lie about it. You''re not a very good liar, Karou." Warren let go of a sigh, and he wondered how deep their conversation could get. After another moment of long looks, he cleared his throat to say, "They might find me aesthetically pleasing, but that''s always where it ends. My ways usually put them off."


    "Oh, sure. I didn''t say I liked your personality. You can be kinda a jerk, and you''re so grumpy all the time." Karou didn''t want to flatter Warren''s already enormous ego, so she shot him down with a home truth¡ªa known one but, nonetheless, wounding. "You lack social etiquette." Karou chirped; it was something she recalled Isabel saying. Somehow, the Vampiress found his moods endearing; Karou couldn''t see the charm herself.


    "Now, who''s lacking in social etiquette?" Warren rolled his eyes. "Some people might not find your brutal honesty charming, y''know. You''re lucky, I appreciate it."


    Karou ignored his attempt to distract her with mildly deprecating humour. "Hmm, but you''re not honest either, are you?" she wondered rhetorically. There was no time for him to deny it because she continued, "And you''re very good at lying. Earlier, you admitted to not liking Ellis, so why do you sleep with her?"


    Disarming words, followed by a jarring question. Karou had turned the tables, now he was under fire. The game was becoming increasingly more personal, and usually, he would mind. If she hadn''t already met Ellis and knew about their affair, he never would''ve entertained a conversation about his personal life. Speaking earnestly on such an uncomfortable topic didn''t feel natural, but Karou''s kind eyes somehow helped him remain candid.


    "Instinct, I think. I find it hard to say no to her because she''s my Sire. She has a hold on me. I''m not formidable. I''m just one man. We''re rather the weaker sex when it comes to physical offerings."


    "Is it always like that with Sire''s and fledgelings then?" Karou had been reading a lot about Vampires lately. Since she''d found herself living with Warren and suspected he was one, she had been using him as a case study.


    "No. Not always. Most Sire and fledgeling pairings are at least friendly towards one another, and they undoubtedly share a bond, but it can take on characteristics of any relationship: parental, mentor and student, friends, perhaps something similar to a sibling bond with the complexities of the rivalries." Warren''s explanation sounded as if he were reading from a textbook. In truth, he knew extraordinarily little about the intricacies of social interactions, including Vampiric ones. He''d probably memorised that spiel from Magnus, the walking, talking encyclopedia. His mentor had written many compendiums on Vampirics in his five-hundred-plus years.


    "Sometimes it''s romantic, then?"


    "Rarely, but yes, it can be. More commonly, it''s about basal gratification. The excitement that comes with sharing blood can quickly descend into something sexual."


    At this explanation, Karou''s head tilted in that bird-like way of hers. It made Warren smile, and in turn, she smiled back, hardly believing she had drawn such an expression from him.


    "You might find my relationship with Ellis strange, but if I didn''t see her, I probably wouldn''t be getting any at all." Warren joked as he swept his hand back through his hair.


    "Oh, that''s untrue. Perhaps you just haven''t noticed who else might be interested." Since she''d abandoned the shield that was the cushion she''d been clung onto, Karou had involuntarily inched closer and closer. How she moved along with the suggestiveness of her statement seemed to have also gone over her head. Karou had women like Isabel Finch in mind; she would have undoubtedly flung herself at Warren if he''d given her half a chance.


    Words escaped Warren. He''d never entertained Ms. Finch''s fawning nor acknowledged or recognised any unsolicited female attention, so he foolishly assumed Karou was flirting with him.


    In the silence, he saw all the things about her that he would later scold himself for. It didn''t matter that he reminded himself of her tender age; he couldn''t help his gaze tracing the lace of her bra, which was visible through the fabric of her pyjama top and how her slender legs beneath the high hemmed sleep shorts curled at her side. He could barely keep the image of them wrapped about his hips from surfacing through the murky depths of his imagination. The choir of imaginary devils were proving difficult to keep at bay once more. The deviants outnumbered the voices of reason, and they leered at her from behind his eyes, howling, growling, and baying like ravenous hounds. His body stiffened in his seat as he commanded it not to move an inch further toward her. Why do we always want what we can''t have?


    It was a question that a part of him had an answer to¡ªan excuse¡ªa reason to take what he wanted because why should he limit himself when she was the one that had moved closer? Take what you want. That''s right, let her come nearer. Closer so that you can touch her.


    Quiet! He screamed internally, muzzling the lecherous beasts so that he could regain composure.


    "Did you¡ª" He cleared his throat. "Did you want to watch the end of the movie?"


    The finality with which he stubbed out his cigarette was a physical metaphor for how fervently he was trying to stomp out the desirous fire growing inside of him.


    "Uh¡ªSure," Karou replied, taken aback. She hadn''t known what she had expected him to say next, but it wasn''t that.


    "Right, well, I''ll let you continue then. I''m going to bed." He slid the remote nearer Karou and stood to leave.


    When he passed by, Karou suddenly sat up on her knees and called his name. "Warren."


    "Yes¡­ Karou?" With just inches between their bodies, he froze. Warren stared down into her blue eyes, marbled like polished gun-metal and noticed that the freckles that sprinkled her upper cheeks and nose seemed to twinkle in the dark. The hasty decision he''d made not to breathe saved them both. Karou could see from the risky distance between them that his eyes were now deep blue, edging toward bloodthirst.


    "Thank you for talking to me tonight. It''s the longest conversation we''ve had."


    If only you knew what I''ve been thinking, you wouldn''t thank me¡ªthere have been so many, too many, close calls.


    "I''m sorry I''m not better at conversation or giving you attention."


    Karou smiled. The dishonest man was being truthful.


    "Goodnight, Karou."


    "Goodnight. Sleep tight."