Her hands were working over his chest and around his shoulders. He swallowed when she rubbed his neck, and when she moved back to his shoulders, he could finally feel himself relaxing. She hadn't done anything fishy around the his neck, and she was gentle enough with the soap. He exhaled softly as she washed his arms, massaging the soap against his hands.
"You know, at first, I thought it was just dirt caked on, but now I realize you're really fucking tan. You're the perfect package, you know?"
He looked at her. "Huh?"
"Look at you!" She poked his abs, causing them to tighten. "You're tall, dark, ripped from climbing all over the ship and living on the run, and you've got a good package."
His hips jerked away when she patted his crotch. She laughed. He scowled.
"You aren't very subtle, are you?"
"Subtle, what's that mean?"
He cracked a small smile.
"Ever been kissed?"
"By my mother and father."
"Is that so?"
He jerked, beginning to panic when Rebecca wrapped her arms around his neck.
"You see, I've been sentenced to the couch for the past month or so because of the fact I've been stealing their candies and going through the sodas twice as fast. Can I at least get your first kiss as a thank you?"
He exhaled, loudly, through his nose and stared into her eyes. "Why?"
"So I can brag to Lucy."
He scoffed. "You're a giant child."
"So?"
He exhaled loudly again: she was giving him the puppy dog eyes. He had grown immune to that.
"Please? They say I've been buying your attention, but as far as I'm concerned, I'm the only one who's talked to you." She pressed up against him, pouting. "Please? I think it's a fair request, and it'll piss Lucy off for me. I'll tell her you didn't know."
"I… Eh…"
He squirmed. He wasn't quite sure he liked how close Rebecca was or how intimate a kiss would be. She could kill him so easily while he kissed her—or things could get out of hand. He wasn't sure how he would respond to the kiss. He had hidden in brothels, sure, when he was running, but he had never slept with the whores—his enemies had, and been killed to help him out. The whores had liked him because he told them his story, and they were impressed, and he often did handy work in return for protection for a night or two, but he had never actually used their services any further than a place to sleep and hide. He wasn't sure what to think.
Still, he mused, it was a small enough request—for a normal person. He figured he could "go for broke" and give her the kiss. Tentatively leaning in, he jumped when Rebecca closed the distance, pressing their lips together in a simple kiss. He could feel her smile against his lips, and jerked, yelping when she pinched his ass and jerking back when they brushed together. She chuckled, resting her head against his chest.
"Your heart is pounding. Relax. I know I took a cheap shot," she murmured.
He tried relaxing, letting her run her hands down and around his waist, gripping lightly, hugging him like a giant teddy bear.
"I can still feel how warm you are," she murmured. "Don't take this offensively, but I used to sleep with my dog, and she was as warm as you."
He frowned. "Hopefully, I'm not as furry."
She patted his chest. "You certainly aren't." She laughed. "But I still think you look hot."
"Um… Thank you?"
"Yeah, it's a compliment."
There was a light knock on the door.
"Yeah? What the Hell do you want?"
"Rebecca," it was Lucy, "we need you to land the ship."
"Fucking whore shit. You know how to. What do you think this is, first class air travel?" She let go, stepping out and grabbing a towel. "I didn't even get to use all the water. That's it, I'm adjusting the grocery list and making it harder for you two to get everything."
"Don't be sore, Rebecca. You know we can't land it nearly as smoothly as you."
She laughed. "True! Nobody can handle Baby as well as I can! Right, I'll be out in a second. Lemme get you a towel, Des."
"Desmond?" he heard Lucy say, shocked.
He was growling softly as Rebecca handed him a fluffy towel. He looked at it as if it were infected.
"Go away, Luce. You're scaring him, and he won't take the towel."
"You got him in the shower with you?"
"Yeah, since you were complaining about how dirty we were. Des, the towel won't bite—I'm sure you could rip it to pieces—and Lucy won't open the door."
He growled, shrinking back slightly before grabbing the towel.
"H-how did you—"
"Lucy, go away. He doesn't trust you."
There was silence, then, "Right… right." As she walked away, "In the shower… who'd have thought?"
When she was away, Desmond was still "on edge," but he shook like a dog, causing Rebecca to yelp. She laughed when he stopped and rubbed his head furiously with the towel. She had started drying off as he rubbed his head, pulling on a clean pair of clothes.
"There's one of Shaun's shirts and pants. I didn't grab you any of his fuddy-duddy over shit. We'll get you something better—and maybe go take a roll in the dirt—once we land."
Desmond raised an eyebrow. "You're mean."
"That's what they get for putting me on the couch, taking away my chocolate for sharing Lucy's candy and the sodas with you, and waking me up. I have a good internal clock system. And they took my fucking chocolate. Of course I'm grouchy. While we're down there, we're getting some more, and I'm putting you in charge of guarding it twenty-four seven."
"I don't get it."
"Chocolate is essential for me to survive. I even share it with Lucy during that time of the month. I bet the whore's eaten all of it."
"That time? You mean when my mother used to drag out those boxes of pads and… things?"
"Tampons? Yeah. Fuck, you get more appealing every time you open your mouth."
"I don't know what they do, but I know she always got irritable, and papa would buy her some chocolate."
She nodded as he shimmed into the pants. "You don't want to know. Trust me: it's messy and gross, and when you notice us getting grouchy, just offer us some chocolate and back away slowly."
He watched her as she dressed. He didn't know what that kiss had done (he suspected poison), but suddenly, she was that much more appealing to him. He could sit and watch her move forever. He must have been getting sick. When she was done, she turned and smiled at him, her blue eyes twinkling with playfulness.
"Come on, slowpoke. I'll be waiting in the cockpit."
She winked playfully and slipped out, and he put on the shirt, only to find her vanished. He crouched low, sticking to the side of the tiny ship, walking to the other end to the engine room.
"You know, mate, you're suppose to button up the shirt."
Desmond spun around, snarling loudly and growling as he looked at the man. He got a closer look, only to realize he had added white gloves and a black top hat, the chain of a silver pocket watch leading into the tailed-jacket. He shrank down, his lips curling back more as he backed up toward the engine room.
"And where are your shoes? Honestly, you really are an animal. Button-up, put on some shoes, and look like a proper gentlemen. Rebecca's below the ship. You can reach it through the trapdoor in her room. And for God's sake, don't ruin my clothes. I have to make appearances in those to gather information."
As the man walked off, Desmond decided he'd show him how "animal" he was and piss in his closet. He stalked into Rebecca's room, shimmying into the small room. Rebecca had a huge smile on her face amidst all the levers and buttons.
"Yo! Des! Come here! I'll show you how to work Baby!"
He didn't like the confined space, but he was beginning to get comfortable around Rebecca, so he was willing to suffer through it. She introduced him to the ship's control board and even let him help a little. He enjoyed the bump of the landing and rumble under his feet as it rolled along. He was smiling by the time it stopped.
"Can I help you next time, too?"
"Sure! It's usually a lot bumpier 'cause of all the levers and buttons for a smooth landing, but I think we could get it almost perfect with the two of us." He grinned, and she bumped their hips together. "You're not half bad once you get passed that rough exterior."
His grin softened to a smile. "I'll get there, once prissy-boy stops bitching."
"Get used to it. I think you should take him, once, really hard, just to show him who's boss."
He wrinkled his nose, and Rebecca laughed, pulling him to the ladder and climbing up. As soon as her ass was level with his face, he pinched it, laughing at her yelp.
"That's for earlier," he growled playfully.
She frowned and rubbed her butt before she stuck her tongue out. "Okay, I deserved that one. But guess what?"
He raised an eyebrow, looking up.
"You touched me this time."
She grinned and scampered out. He blinked, then ran up the ladder after her and crawled into the hallways, looking around excitedly. He liked Rebecca.
"Desmond?"
He whipped around and saw Lucy standing a ways off, dressed in a pastel blue dress with a skirt that showed a layer of black underneath. She had on white gloves and the large, open sleeves, and a golden, web-like necklace around her neck. Her hair was done up and she wore a small pastel blue and black hat. A matching purse rested on her arm. He stepped back slightly, on the defense.
"You really should button-up your shirt."
He didn't bother to call her out when her eyes roamed his chest.
"Why? It's still covering more than the dirty old one I wore."
She stepped forward, and he curled his lip, stepping back. She paused and pursed her lips.
"Desmond, really."
"Why? I don't even like these."
She sighed. "It's proper—"
"I don't care. Leave me alone."
She frowned. "Desmond—"
He snarled. "Leave me alone."
She almost touched her face, and stopped millimeters away. Desmond realized she painted her face like the ladies in court.
"Why are you so dolled up?"
"Dolled up?"
"Like one of those kids' dolls in the toy stores. You look stupid with all that paint on."
Her eyes widened. He straightened slightly, scowling.
"I have to, Desmond. Shaun and I are in charge of Intel and meeting contacts from the higher end of town."
"That's stupid," he growled, and he pushed past her to the deck. Shaun was walking down the steps from the deck, and Desmond rolled his eyes, leaping over the edge and landing near Rebecca.
"Hey, hotstuff, ready to go shopping? They have the list. We can go get you clothes."
Desmond straightened and nodded. "Yeah."
They walked off, and Desmond followed closely as they enter the city. It was a bustling, lively town, and he felt safe there, among the crowd of people doing their shopping, with little more than a few centimeters between their bodies. Crowds were what he was used to, easy to hide in.
"Rebecca! Wait!"
He whirled around, stepping behind Rebecca as Shaun and Lucy came trotting up.
"What the Hell is this?"
Something caught in the corner of his eye, and he cast a casual glance. There was a man, sitting fifteen meters or so away, and on his arm, engraved lightly into the buckle, was the cross of their enemies. He blessed his parents for his enhanced vision. He thought he saw a shotgun by his side, and when he caught the man looking, he knew they were caught.
"Des? What's up? You're growling, and it's kind of freaking us out."
The man got up and picked up the gun.
"Des?"
More movement. There were more here. They had been lured into a trap.
"Hey, Des!"
Like a shot, he snarled and pushed through the crowd, falling on the man like a starved animal. Before the man could even lift the gun, his throat had been ripped apart, and Desmond was snarling as he ran toward the next one. The first gunshot went off, and everybody started panicking. He threw civilians from his path, tackling the next soldier and clawing him as the man struggled. His veins were singing for blood. The other men were moving in, and as they advanced, torn between fighting him off and capturing the others, he systematically ripped them to shreds. He could hear the gunshots whizzing through the air, but his brain was wailing for death. His nose was filled with the smell of the gunpowder, and his tongue heavy with the taste of blood. All he could see was red as he ripped through the enemies.
"Demon!" one shrieked and tried to run.
He never made it more than a few steps.
"He's not human!"
"Retreat!"
"What is that?"
"Fuck!"
"Get the Hell outta here, man!"
"Desmond!"
He turned at Rebecca's voice, seeing two of them trying to carry her off. Shaun and Lucy were running to help, and Desmond howled. The guards froze when the caught sight of him, and he could see them trembling as the other few not holding Rebecca tried to load their guns. He snarled again and sprinted, tackling one of them as they fired and ripping the gun from his hands, beating his face in before rising and swinging it like a club, letting it go to smack into a different soldier.
While the soldier blocked the flying gun, Desmond ripped his stomach out. They would not touch Rebecca. With a roar, he barreled into the next man, forcing the gun from his hands before snapping his neck like a twig, and when he turned around, the two who had been holding her were running without her. He caught one, sinking his teeth deep into its neck as he landed on its back. It jerked and flailed, but he didn't let go until he had its head smashed into the concrete and he was ripping the bone from the neck.
He was twitching with anger and adrenaline as he straightened, his eyes hunting for the last man. He could hear a motorcycle in the distance, and he growled as he panted. He was in the killer mood. Desmond spat the bone and flesh out of his mouth, swallowing thickly and feeling the blood trickle down his throat. There had never been any better taste.
He gazed at the dead bodies as he half-crawled over to Rebecca, who was frozen where she sat. Shaun and Lucy were a few steps away, slightly disheveled but nevertheless still prim and proper, even if they did look scared. Without thinking, he head-butted and rested against Rebecca's shoulder, a soft whining sound coming from him. She jumped as she snapped from her shock and slowly wrapped her arms around him.
He let himself collapse, exhausted. His ribs ached, and his arm hurt badly. His foot felt numb and his side was killing him. He had never been happier that instead of crawling into a gutter and nursing himself back to health, he now had a warm body to crawl back to nurse himself to health. He closed his eyes for just as second as the adrenaline rush slowly left his body.
When he woke next, he was in a clean bed. He had been dreaming about the fight, and he woke with a snort as he killed the final person again. He licked his lips, flinching at the taste of mint in his mouth. When he went to sit up, he winced: his ribs were killing him. Nevertheless, he forced himself up and looked around the room. It looked like those hospital rooms he sometimes saw on the TVs.
"H-hey, you're up."
He looked to his left to find Rebecca in the doorway. He blinked.
"You really shouldn't be sitting up. You're injured."
She had a bandage on the back of her head. He rose from the bed and walked toward her, ignoring the crash as the things hooked up to him were ripped loose. She stepped back, and he stopped, hurt and confused.
"D-Des, you really oughta stay in bed."
His eyebrows knitted together, his lips forming a frown. Rebecca stepped toward him, and he stepped back, sitting on the bed. She smiled, but it was soft, almost afraid. When she was two paces away, he reached out and grabbed her, pulling her into a tight hug and chuckling at her yelp. He flopped on the bed with her in his arms. He had to admit he liked having her around.
She started laughing. "I should've known you weren't that scary. You're just like my dog."
Desmond huffed, disregarding the pain he was in or the injuries he had as he snuggled in close.
"What happened to that feral thing who hated being touched?"
"You happened," he murmured.
Although, he mused, perhaps there was still a bit of him left. He had pulled her down and wrapped his arms around her so she couldn't move hers—couldn't do anything funny. He yawned, closing his eyes again.
"What the Hell is he?"
He curled around the warm body in his arms. It had moved. It was sitting up. He nuzzled against it.
"Well, he was related to Altair and Ezio. Those two also came from that test group."
Altair and Ezio—he knew those two. Altair was his teacher back home, and Ezio was his father's brother.
"Those two? Damn. I thought he looked familiar."
"It seems to be a common theme. Ezio was tamed by that Leonardo No-Last-Name, and Altair by Malik Al-Sayf and Maria Thorpe."
"Just what kind of 'upgrades' did they force these people to get?"
"Well, I doubt that he underwent the process. They stopped it once those traits were found in the babies, then the people in charge bred them to ensure they would continue to show. But, enhanced vision, reducing recovery time, incredible fighting skills—they turned them into animals."
"I can tell from the 'bred them.'"
"They instilled in them, dredged up from our own brains, the most base and primal instincts we could have. With the enhancements they pumped the bodies with, they were creating an entirely new race to wipe out our enemies with."
"A race of superhumans."
Desmond let his fingers curl against the person's inner thigh, his face pressed into the side of the butt. He squirmed when a hand started rubbing his back.
"A race of animals to fight for us."
"That's inhumane to force the people to do that!"
"And that's where their logic worked: they don't view him and the other two as human as all, simply a creation, a project to win this war for us."
"Shit."
"Well, they did hold out a year against the worst of our enemies forces. The only reason we have a foothold now is because they wiped so many of them out."
Desmond remembered that. He remembered his father coming home, covered in blood, kissing his mother as if it were their last and hugging him as if he were going to die. He remembered walking the streets and hearing the sounds of war in the background as Altair taught them, pushed them, harder to learn to live on their instincts on the battlefield. He remembered Ezio being charged with delivering letters to far off lands with cries for help.
He remembered the day his father never came home. He remembered the day his mother cleaned out a corpse, stuffed him inside, and sent him rolling out with the dead. He remembered running that night. He remembered the fear.
"Shhhh… Des, calm down, kid."
It was Rebecca. It was safety.
"Hey, man, let's change the topic. He's not taking it so well. What were those abilities they pumped into them?"
"Enhanced vision—"
"That explains why he was growling. He must have seen the men before we did."
"Reduced recovery time—"
"Wait…"
"So, he'll be…"
"Yes, he'll be ready to fight in a matter of days. I think, and don't hold me to this, they designed the people as such so that a fractured bone took a week. The broken one took a month. If normally deadly wounds could be contained, they would be ready to fight again. These creatures were designed to kill—and if he is anything to go by, I'd say the design worked quite well."
"Their fighting style certainly worked."
Desmond inhaled deeply, wrapping his legs around Rebecca's.
"I remember reading a journal once about their town. One of the scientists who lived there once wrote an entry regarding watching them fight. He described it as, 'a whirlwind of carnage and howling more chilling than the wolves as night. [He] watched them fall upon the enemy, and would liken it to the world before, as the Second World War must have been. Terror reigned in the enemy encampment, and there was no man safe from these fierce warriors. Had it not been for the uniforms our soldiers wore—bright yellow, a sore thumb—I now realize that they, too, would have been killed. Their mates and their kids, their fellow pack members, are the only ones safe.
'These men are animals. They are not human. If this is what happened during the Third World War, I pity the men who undertook these procedures. They were bred like cattle or birds, the strongest with the strongest, the weakest left for Mother Nature to weed out. But, hear me, even their "weakest" are strong enough to take on a squadron of men and live.
'What have we wrought? Curse our kind, so eager to learn. We have taken these lives and ruined them. I will suffer nightmares of the original experiments until my eyes close: I will beg God for forgiveness. They were pitiful as we tortured them. We took their lives.'"
There was silence for a little bit, then: "So, if we put Desmond, Altair, and Ezio in the front lines…"
He yawned and stretched, wincing at the pain in his ribs. He grunted, untangled himself from Rebecca, and got on his hands and knees in the bed before shaking like a dog to wake up. Disregarding the pain, he sat on his rump, looking around. Lucy and Shaun were sitting there, and Rebecca was beside him. He smiled at her.
"Morning, Des."
"Thank you for ruining my clothes, you idiot."
Desmond snarled at Shaun, who flinched in return. His attention snapped to Rebecca when he felt her place a hand on his leg.
"How ya feeling?"
He smiled again. "Sore."
She laughed. "I'm not surprised. The bullets got you pretty good."
He pulled at the hospital gown. It was itchy and irritating, and he wanted it off. Without thinking, he tugged it off, ripping the ties and letting it fall.
"Desmond!" Lucy cried.
He snarled. "It's itchy. I'm not wearing this."
"They want to keep you here overnight. Please just listen to them," Lucy asked.
"No. Tell them to leave me alone. I survived on my own for over ten years."
"How about if I get you something to read?" Shaun offered. "Something of value."
"No. Something of value is stupid."
"It is not," Shaun argued.
"Of course it is. Whatever you read is the same as shit."
Shaun scowled, and Rebecca twisted her lips. "Do you have those journals that you quoting from?"
"Yes."
"Why don't you bring me one? I'm gonna stay overnight here with him so he doesn't eat any of the doctors."
Shaun looked surprised. "Well, I suppose I can. Then Lucy and I can get the supplies for tomorrow."
He left the room, and Desmond curled against Rebecca. He was silent until Shaun returned and handed her a worn, leather novel.
"Here. I'll warn you: it's not a pleasant read."
"That's fine. I'll live."
Shaun nodded and turned to Lucy. "Let's go."
She rose. "We'll meet you at the ship tomorrow."
"You got it, Luce."
He blinked as they left and she cracked open the journal. When the doctors came in, he fought them horribly, but thanks to Rebecca, he didn't hurt them—too terribly, just enough to let them know he didn't want the tubes and the IVs stuck in him. Later that night, once the doctors had given up trying to get him to cooperate, he was nestled in with Rebecca.
"Dude, this is wack. Listen:
'The women have been upgraded now. We worked on enlarging the birth canals and increasing their hip size. They can now carry the babies for a year, ensuring a higher survival rate. We've been getting blasted for these changes, but so far, they've worked. When we breed the larger hipped women with the men, their children come out much more developed and learn much quicker.
'We've struck gold with these experiments. We have, however, hit a roadblock with the teeth. No matter which person we perform surgery on, their jaws just cannot support the jaw of a predator. We've tried twenty different times on all ages, and nothing seems to work. This will cause a large set back in creating the perfect beast.'"
She looked down at Desmond, who was staring at the wall.
"Did you know about this?"
Desmond nodded, yawning. "I thought everybody had undergone it. I was really surprised by the narrowness of women's hips after I escaped. And when I saw the enemies fight for the first time, I was confused."
His eyes slipped closed as she ran a hand through his hair. "Did you undergo any surgery?"
He shook his head slightly. "No, by the time they reached my father's generation, most of the enhancements were natural in the birthing process. My father and mother were put together to have children."
"That's ridiculous."
"No, it's not!" he snarled.
"Des, your parents should've been free to pick who they want!"
"They loved each other," he growled.
"It's not for us to breed you guys like animals."
"That's how it had to be," Desmond hissed, his fingers curling warningly into Rebecca's thigh.
"That's not how it had to be. I can't believe our Order did such things!"
He snarled. "They knew best!"
"Desmond!" He felt her pull his head back so he had to stare at her. "You're human! You deserve to live free!"
He snarled, getting up on his hands and knees to glare at her, growling. "We were free!"
"No, you weren't! Des, you should be able to love who you want! You shouldn't have to be forced to fight! To them, you were nothing more than cattle!"
"No, we weren't!"
She grabbed his face. "Des, what they did to you and your people? That's not right. They took your humanity from you."
"They did not!"
"Des, if they hadn't, you wouldn't have been so afraid of us. You should be able to fall in love and have babies with who you want, not who the Order says you have to."
"They picked the right person for us."
She ran a hand along his jaw. "Dessie, it doesn't matter if it was the 'right pick' for the stronger baby. Did you know who you were going to bred with?"
"Yes. And it was a good pick."
She gave him a "You're stupid" look. "Tell me, when you saw her, did it affect you here?"
She tapped where his heart was. He raised an eyebrow. "No. Why?"
"It should have."
"Why?"
"It means you're in love."
"Why's that important?"
"Because it is. Being in love is what makes having children so wonderful."
"We have children to continue our lines."
"You should have children because you want to."
"It doesn't matter if we want to. We must."
"Dessie," she sighed, "being in love is one of the most wonderful feelings you could get. Everyone deserves the chance to have that feeling."
Desmond scoffed. "Have you ever felt it?"
"As a matter of fact, yes."
"Really?"
"Yes. And it's the most wonderful feeling ever."
He scoffed again. "Being in love is not important. You should bree—"
"Because you want to. Not because someone else says so. And you should have kids with who you want, because the prospect of having children is so much more enjoyable that way."
He scoffed. "What's so different about being in love?"
She grinned and tapped his nose before she poked his stomach, which jerked. "This area gets all tight when you see the person." She tapped his heart. "And this starts beating faster." She touched their noses together. "And you can't walk right, and your thoughts are consumed by the person, and you want to spend your every waking moment with them, and when they touch you, it's the best feeling ever. You do all kinds of things just to see them smile. Their happiness is important to you."
He frowned. "That sounds stupid."
"It's wonderful."
"And who have you fallen in love with? Lucy and Shaun?"
She grinned. "Nope."
"I thought you were sleeping with them."
"Of course. Well, not this month."
"Then why are you sleeping with them if you're not in love?" he asked mockingly, scowling.
"I am in love with them, but I didn't fall in love with them."
He was horribly confused. "What?"
"It was a love built by years of friendship and trust. I gradually came to love them. I didn't think 'falling in love' was possible."
"But you just said—"
"I fell in love with you," she said as she winked and kissed him.
He jerked back, and Rebecca laughed as he stared at her, wide-eyed. "Th-that's ridiculous."
"No, it's not. You're, like, the perfect package."
He jerked his head, sitting back. "The Order will tell me who I'm going to marry."
"The Order can't touch you."
"Of course they can. I'm allied with you, now."
She laughed and reached for him, grabbing his lower jaw, hooking her thumb behind his teeth, and shaking his head softly. He growled, tugging back on her hand gently with his teeth and shaking his head.
"They can't force you to do anything."
She pulled her hand free and cuffed his head gently, and he nipped at her arm.
"And they most certainly can't tell you who to love."
She held her arms open, and he moved forward, head butting her shoulder and curling in her arms.
"And they most certainly won't tell me that I can't love you."
He wasn't entirely sure what to think as she cracked open the journal again. He most certainly was not in love. Sure, he enjoyed Rebecca, and he enjoyed her company, but he was not "in love." If it was truly like she described, it would be a big weakness, and that went against everything Altair had taught him. He wouldn't be able to fight correctly.
"Hey," Rebecca said, "listen to this."
He looked at her briefly.
"'We're starting to get semi-worried. The people here have grown cold to us. They watch us, paranoid, from the corners, the streets, inside their shops. They are quick to snap at us. We cannot touch them. Few scientists can even get them to talk. It's become apparent we have estranged our biggest ally.
'We need to figure out a way to befriend them before they turn on us. Justin has gone missing. He had insulted the women here, calling them ugly compared to the ladies back home. I doubt we'll find him again. It's not safe for us at night. We bar the doors of reinforced steel, and still we listen to them howl at night, their snarls just outside the door. We need to get out, but the Order has yet to send transport.'
Did you really howl at night?" she asked.
"Not really howl—well, yeah. It was how we communicated at night. You couldn't tell us apart from the wolves. We played in the streets at night. Half of our lessons were then, to adjust the dark and learn to hunt. Sometimes, Altair would let a rabbit loose, and we'd have to find him six hours later."
"Are you serious?"
He nodded. "It was a lot of fun. Frustrating, but fun."
She was quiet for a moment. "What was the chick you were supposed to marry look like?"
He blinked. "She had black hair and brown eyes. Her family produced healthy, ideal children."
"It sounds terrible."
"Why? She would've given me strong, ideal children."
"Not necessarily," she murmured.
"Those babies would've been taken away for different care."
"What?"
He looked surprised. "They… were taken away to be properly taken care of."
"Don't tell me that bullshit! You don't honestly believe they're still alive!"
"Why not?"
He pressed his face against her neck. He could feel her blood heating up and her muscles tense. She wrapped her arms tighter around him.