As quietly and slowly as possible, Wren opened her front door, wincing when her keys jingled on her chain. Sidling in she peered about the dark apartment, trying to figure out where her guest was. It was nearly two in the morning and with no lights on it was impossible to see a thing.

Figuring that he probably fell asleep on the couch (which she couldn't see), she kicked off her tennis shoes and set her bag down carefully. Remembering what he said about accidentally killing her, Wren tiptoed slowly towards her room, trying hard to be silent. After bumping into a chair and tripping on a box of paints, she figured he must have heard her at least a little.

"Well, I guess I can't be too surprised," she muttered a bit sadly as she went into her room, closing it behind her. He hadn't stayed up for her. She shouldn't be so let down about it but she couldn't help it. The thought had been keeping her through work today. Having anyone waiting at home for her was amazing.

So lost in thought, she didn't notice that her lights were on and that someone was watching her. Pulling off her sweater and her apron, she nonchalantly threw them on the floor and sighed. She had really been looking forward to seeing him when she got home.

"Can't be too surprised at all..."

"About what, mademoiselle?"

A small squeal of surprise and embarrassment slipped out of Wren as she clutched her heart and looked towards Erik's voice. Lounging easily in her bed, Erik sat with his back against her headboard, her white and blue comforters pulled about his waist. A book lay in his lap, one of his elegant hands across its well-worn cover. But at the moment, none of that really registered in her startled and now stupefied brain.

Erik wasn't wearing a shirt, which was bad enough, but with the blankets she couldn't tell if he wore pants. Jesus fucking Christ, what if he wasn't? She found that she was enjoying the idea and tried to kill the half-hope. Oh, but he was an alluring picture there, with his hair smoothed back from his brow.

Forcing a nervous smile, Wren pulled her hair loose and ruffled it, trying to distract herself from the seductive man in her bed.

"I thought you might have fallen asleep," she admitted sheepishly. As she walked to her closet Erik watched her, one exquisite eyebrow raised in slight amusement.

"I said I would wait. Did you not believe me?" he asked lightly, a little tone of insult in his voice. She shook her head vigorously as she reached into her closet and grabbed her old comfy robe, her red-brown hair falling about her face in disarray.

"No, I did. Well, okay, I did think that maybe, just maybe you had drifted off," she replied doggedly. Walking over to the bed, she sat at the foot of it, opposite of him. Reaching up, she shifted her hair to the nape of her neck and began running her fingers through the tangles.

Erik rolled his eyes at her before picking up the book again and decidedly ignoring her. Wren suddenly found the sight of his disarrayed and easy locks a tremendously handsome vision and blushed. Damn it.

"So…uh…what book did you find?"

"Erotic Poetry, Songs of Love, Longing and Desire. I must say, mademoiselle,that I was not expecting to find such a collection of rapturous literature in your shelves," Erik commented in appreciation, his deft fingers flipping through the pages. Wren's blush deepened severely and she reached to snatch it away. Erik held it just out of range to the side, a small, impish smile on his lips.

"Are you embarrassed?"

"A little. That's like finding porn in a bathroom. Please give it back."

"Porn? What on earth is 'porn'?"

Wren's mouth dropped to just above her collarbone and she stared in blank silence. When Erik's expression grew even more mischievously curious she shook her head roughly and scrambled across the bed to snatch at her book.

"Oh, hell no! I am not gonna explain that to you! That-just-eh-…what on earth did guys watch in the 1800's then?" she bitched as she tried to grab her prize from Erik, who seemed more than happy to play keep-a-way. Wren tried hard not to fall on him with her wild grabbing from her seat but he was making it purposefully difficult. With his longer reach, he held it out and away from the bed and behind him, grinning at her feeble attempts at reaching over him and not touch him at the same time.

After a few minutes, she sat back and gave up momentarily Crossing her legs and propping her chin in her palm, Wren gave him a narrow look. Blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes she eyed him, trying to think of a way to get her book back. He already read the damn thing but still, it was embarrassing.

"How about this little proposition? Tell me what 'porn' is and I will give you back your book, which I have already read thoroughly. And I enjoyed it, to be truthful," Erik proposed in a small tease, his voice dropping to a semi-bashful confession near the end. Wren thought about it, frowned, opened her mouth once then closed it. Finally, she sighed and flopped back onto the bed, her legs uncrossing, and her feet thudding on her pillows.

"Fine. Fine! I'll tell you what 'PORN' is. I can't fucking believe this," she started giggling at the very idea, a small snort slipping through. "Okay, porn is…sexually explicit material that is meant to stimulate and satisfy, if I remember correctly. Now hand it over."

Erik frowned a little bit, apparently mulling it over in his head. Leaning forward he fiddled with the tie to her robe, thinking. Wren froze at that, staring at him from where she lay.

"So, a display of women then, in general?" he asked slowly, as if completely unsure of his conclusion or trying to egg her on. She wasn't sure which but he definitely got the reaction he wanted. Wren spluttered indignantly and sat up on her elbows.

"No, no, no. That's not right. Not all women. Just really loose women who have no other talent other than spreading their legs for a camera."

"Camera?"

"Um, an audience."

A horrified and disgusted look crossed Erik's face and his nose crinkled.

"Whores."

"Pretty much. They sleep with guys so others can watch. Sometimes with two guys or a girl. Or even, and this is so freaking gross and creepy, with animals like horses," Wren went on, sitting up and wrapping her arms about her knees. Leaning closer she whispered quietly, as if what she was muttering was death worthy. "I found one in Blockbuster of fat women and midgets."

It felt a little wrong to feel satisfaction at his disgust but it at least proved to her that he wasn't some severe sicko. Erik leaned even closer to her, so that his gaze was about three inches away. Wren's face went blank as she tried to figure out what he was up to. Suddenly his expression crumpled to one of disbelief and horror.

"A horse? Is that even possible, considering proportions and anatomy?" he asked seriously, a small laugh under the low tone of his voice. Wren laughed at that, falling to her back again, away from his dangerously close heat. Rolling to her side, facing away, she gave a snort and pushed her hair out of her face.

"Apparently. I mean, it's not like its new or anything. Some race of people put virgins into wooden cows and allowed bulls to-man, I am too tired for this. I'm chatting about horses, midgets and porn."

Rolling off the bed she began unbuckling her jeans, expecting him to leave. When he didn't move, she raised a nervous brow at him.

"Um, can you leave? I need to go to bed."

"I cannot."

"Why?"

"I no longer have a place to sleep."

Wren's face went dead serious and her arms fell to her sides as she turned to face him. Erik gave her a guilty, sheepish smile before snuggling down into her bed, turning on his side and pulling the blankets over his head. It would've been cute if Wren didn't have this horrible sinking feeling.

"Erik? What did you do to the couch?"

"Oh, nothing. Just a little soup and an unfortunate event with candles," came his semi-muffled reply. Wren was about to question him then decided to leave to investigate then changed her mind. With an exasperated moan, she came to the conclusion that it was too fucking late to care. She would almost bet money on it that he did it on purpose.

Making sure his head was still under the blankets, Wren quickly changed into sweats and a t-shirt, her hands shaking. She was going to sleep a whole night in a bed with a man. An incredibly hot man. Of course she had been with guys but they'd never shared a bed through the night.

Puffing a nervous breath out, she flipped off the light, allowing her eyes to adjust. Streetlights streamed in from outside the window, making every shadow rather sharp and distinct in the orange light. With terribly unsure feet, Wren walked to her side of the bed, eyeing the form in it.

Pulling back to blankets, she sat down and lay out on the bed stiffly, afraid to move other than to cover herself. Next to her she could hear his breathing in the dark, even and steady. Maybe he passed out? After a few tense moments she deduced as much and rolled over towards the window, feeling a bit of disappointment in her gut.

That feeling jumped out of her esophagus, along with her heart, when a strong arm wrapped about her waist like a snake. She gave an 'eep' when it cupped her hip against the mattress and pulled her backwards. Were his hands really that large? A warm, thick chest pressed against her back, her shoulder blades rubbing against bare skin. Her blood froze in her veins as his other arm slid under her waist and folded against the first, trapping her to him.

From behind she felt his legs curve against hers, thankfully clothed, and felt his breath playing on her neck and ear. A shudder ran through her and she melted a little against him. Oh, perhaps that wasn't a good idea, she had as an afterthought. Now, his…groin…was right…

Against her unbearably sensitive spine she felt his heart flutter nervously and it made her feel better that he wasn't exactly confident either.

"Erik?"

"Shh, just go to sleep. You have been working all day," he murmured soothingly into her ear, his hot breath tickling her. She felt him press his lips against her neck, placing several kisses down to her collarbone. A terse breath escaped her when it stopped.

It was going to be a long time before she fell asleep.

To Wren's immense confusion she awoke first the next day. For a few moments she couldn't bring herself to realize where she was or more specifically who was there with her. A puzzled hum escaped her as she shifted on her side, feeling a firm, warm body next to her. Sitting up in the golden morning light she leaned on one arm and looked behind her.

Erik's arm was flung across her pillows (explaining what she had slept on all night) as he lay on his back. The comforters were about his knees, revealing his sculpted chest which rose slightly in deep breaths. The mottled side of his face was turned to her, his lips parted in sleep. She stifled a laugh at the trickle of drool that was dried in the corner of his mouth.

Resisting the urge to tousle his disarrayed brown hair, Wren slid out of the bed, amazingly able to not fall or trip. Padding out of the bedroom, she closed the door carefully, flinching at the little click of the door handle.

Going into the kitchen, she found herself grinning a bit idiotically. It came to her rather suddenly as she fixed coffee that she was happier just sleeping next to a man all night that having him for one sweaty hour. Perhaps that was what she longed for every time she lay there, watching every shallow man loose himself in her. The intimacy of sharing sleep, that vulnerable time in the dark.

Humming cheerfully to herself and for once not caring that she sounded awful, Wren made toast with sweet butter and blackberry jam along with some sliced apples and cheese. Simple, good and easy to eat.

A sudden, loud knock on her front door startled her as she made him a cup of coffee. Who in the hell was here this early to fucking bother her? Cursing lowly at whoever decided to ruin her morning, she trotted to the door, opening it a crack.

"Wren! Good morning, sleepy!" Janette's voice grated on her nerves as it emptied into her unwilling ears. Squinting into the light, Wren felt her sanity shrivel inside her at the sight of her unwanted friend. She didn't attempt to hide the sour face she made at her.

"Can I help you? If it's about the math homework, you can just-"

"Oh don't be stupid. I got that nerd in fourth period doing that. I want to see Erik," she interrupted excitedly, pushing herself into Wren's apartment. Rolling her sleepy eyes, Wren stifled a moan as she closed the door behind her.

Leaning against it she ran her hand through her tangled hair, eyeing the other woman. Did she ever look bad or even remotely human? Janette's flawless hair was up in a fashionable ponytail, every fake strand straight like her bangs. Glittery pink eye shadow matched her lipstick and her tea party shirt with its white cupcake prints. She looked like she stepped out of a Barbie party commercial.

"He's sleeping and I don't feel like waking him up. Come back later," Wren mumbled lowly, keeping her voice down to emphasize her point. Janette turned from where she was observing the couch, pink nails on her size two hips. A disgusted look creased her plastic nose and she pointed at it.

"What happened to your couch?" she demanded in her naturally loud and obtrusive voice. Wren winced and looked, a humorous feeling of dread creeping up on her. Erik had mentioned something about fire and soup. "I mean, it was already really ugly but this is bad."

A large poportion of the seat in the middle was scorched and stained a darker shade of red, the edges of the burn curled and blackened like cinders. Taking a step closer to analyze the damage, she noticed a horrid smell about it, like overheated milk. Crinkling her nose as well, she shrugged and grinned helplessly. It was just the couch. At least it wasn't him burned.

"And he calls me graceless."

"He did that to your couch? Oh, uh-uh, girl! He sounds like a slob. You are way too good for-"

"Janette, as much as I appreciate your unnecessary babbling, please, shut the fuck up. My head hurts," Wren snapped peevishly, before retreating to the kitchen where her coffee awaited her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Janette's jaw drop and her arms cross on her waist.

"Well, you don't need to be bitchy," she replied haughtily as she followed. Wren wondered if she ever took a hint when she wasn't wanted. "Well, I just want to see this mystery man."

"Don't. He's sleeping."

A mischievous and playful grin came over Janette's face before she bit her tongue between her teeth and raised her brows.

"Let's go wake him up then."

Before Wren could protest, the skinny broad skipped her way down the hall, her heels clattering like a cow bell. On the verge of bashing her thin skull on the wall, she quickly followed to find her peering into her bedroom.

"Oh, gawd, he is a cutie!" Janette gushed in a quiet squeal. Wren went to grab a hank of her hair only to miss as she tip toed into the room. Fuck! She really wanted to rip the slut's hair out now. Panic shot through her like a bolt of lightning to her gut, as Janette approached his side of the bed. She was going to have to sneak attack the dumb broad in order to get her out of there.

Planting her hands on her knees, the blonde leaned over him slightly, analyzing him like a bitch in heat. Wren realized that his normal side was faced towards her, giving her a one-sided view to him. Semi-casually, she came up to her classmate, feeling insane jealousy and an urge to beat her with whatever object was closest. Hmm, that would be the alarm clock. Might be fun to kill her with, she supposed.

Erik, either disturbed by their staring or by some noise they made, made a small sigh and shifted to his side, revealing his entire face. A completely disgusted look stole Janette's features, twisting them like a sniff of spoiled milk. Her mouth opened to say something but Wren clapped a harsh hand over it, slapping her a bit.

"Get out now," she growled quietly, grabbing her hand and pulling her away from him. Janette allowed her to drag her out and watched her dumbfounded as she carefully closed the door.

"What the hell is wrong with his face? Wren, that guy looks like a freak show attraction!" Janette gasped in disgust. Wren gave her the worst look combined of hate and anger, with a sprinkle of death wishes.

"There is nothing wrong with his face."

"Oh, come on. Did you even see it? God, Travis has to see this shit," Janette pulled her pink shiny cell phone from her pocket, flipping it open. Wren wasn't sure what came over her, but it felt a little bit like murder. She was done; this bitch had to go. Quickly she slapped the phone out of her hands, hearing it clattering to the floor. It actually felt rather great to smack that woman somewhere. She would have preferred the face.

Janette's pretty mouth opened in objection as she rubbed her manicured fingers and looked down at her phone. Staring in confused anger, she took in Wren's disheveled mass of hair and the seething look of loathing. For a moment, she wondered how insane she looked at that moment.

"Don't you bring around your fuck-toy to gawk at Erik. In fact, you just leave him alone. He's not an animal on display," she ordered scathingly, a threat clearly under her tone as she walked to the front door. Janette gave her a challenging look, her pointy chin raising up at her. Picking up her fallen cell, she stomped up to her pettily, ponytail swaying.

"I didn't expect you to choose a guy over your BFF. I guess I should have expected it from you," Janette flung at her in a prettily outraged way. Wren gave a small bark of a harsh laugh, grabbing her attention once more as she held the door open.

"Bitch, did I ever say I was your BFF? No, that was some delusion you came to. So, take your plastic ass and your damn little boy toy and stay out of my life," Wren finished, feeling a million times better now that she had said exactly what she had felt. She didn't even see Janette's face as she marched out, slamming the door shut.

Heaving a relieved sigh, Wren laughed lightly, punching the air in triumph. Today was going to be a good day.

"Erik, wake up. I've got breakfast," Wren whispered a bit loudly, as she set the plate of food and mug of java on the bedside table. Amazingly, the man had slept through the entire escapade in the living room. So much for killing her in his sleep. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she grinned at him as he stirred sleepily.

Legs stretching under the covers, Erik's arms reached out behind him, fisted tightly. Wren laughed a little as he fell limp again, his chest deflating in exhalation. A content murmur rumbled from his throat, which had grown a stubbly five o-clock shadow.

Timidly, she reached out and brushed locks of hair from his face, the tips of her fingers dancing over his brow. Slowly he blinked open his amazing eyes, the gold light of morning reflecting in the deep green and blue crystals in them. At first he blinked at her in confused surprise before he remembered where he was.

"Good morning," he mumbled contentedly, his voice rough from sleep. Wren smiled at him, continuing to play and fuss with his light brown hair. After a moment she dragged her fingers to the side of his face, feeling every groove and raise in his deformity. At first he looked terribly uncomfortable with the attention but gradually eased up. The texture was smooth and soft, almost like an old burn scar before it faded into the skin. Part of her wanted to brag about how she had just defended his honor (essentially) in the living room just a short while ago.

"I made you breakfast," Wren said as she allowed her hand to withdraw easily, completely happy with herself that morning. Erik looked over at the plate and a small smile quirked his lips.

"So you did. Another first for myself."

"I used to make breakfast in bed for my dad when I was little. But that was years ago."

"Ah, so I am on par with your father then? I am honored," Erik commented a bit dramatically, putting a hand to his heart in comic compliment. Wren rolled her eyes at him, a small laugh cracking her lips.

"Whatever, just eat it, you odd-ball," she conceded teasingly. About to stand up, she never made it to the door. Erik sat up like lightening and wrapped his strong arms about her waist and her thighs. A startled scream escaped her as he tugged hard towards the bed, sending her sprawling over him to the cover.

Puffing a cloud of her hair out of her mouth Wren reached up to pull strands from her face, feeling his hands helping her. Erik laid halfway on top of her, pinning her effectively, a smile on his face. Wren felt nervous flutters dance up her skin at the feeling of his weight but forced herself to ignore it.

"So, that was really random," she commented flippantly, as if his hands weren't caressing her face, pulling away stray hair. Erik shrugged before resting his head in the crook of her neck, arms sliding under her form to hold her. Wren trembled, her façade of coolness fading drastically. His breath played on the tiny hairs of her neck, raising goose pimples all over her skin as he touched his lips to her flesh.

"Wren, you are shaking again. Am I bothering you?" Erik asked lowly, a tone of regret in his voice as if he was unsure of what he had just done. Frantically, Wren shook her head, her chin banging on his forehead. "Are you positive?"

"No, only fools are positive."

She laughed, trying to ease her tension but it only came out as a squeak. She felt rather claustrophobic with him on her. It brought to mind all of those men who had been there, crushing her in their need, in their blind lust. She remembered all the pain they heedlessly caused her body in her youth and then her mind as her flesh grew numb. It made her brain feel grime-engraved and rotted as images flitted through it like phantoms.

"Will you please tell me the cause of all this fear? It must be terrible to cause such anxiety," Erik asked softly, sounding awfully sympathetic and soothing to her distressed ears. Forcefully, she blew her breath out, attempting to calm herself. He didn't move from his position, other than to nuzzle his nose against her ear.

"I-I am not sure if I can explain it. It's hard, Erik. I've done so many awful things in my life. I don't want you to hate me," she admitted baldly, unable to hide it under floundering, pretty words. She felt him sigh against her, in exasperation or frustration she couldn't tell.

"Please, tell me. I promise that I have done far worse than you."

Wren snorted a bit at that. The heat radiating from his body was making hers grow tingly, cold shots racing through her in a self-preserving attempt to cool off. "Erik, you can't remember much. How do you know?"

"I am twice your age, which means that I have had more than twice the chances to do wrong. Believe me, I am sure that I am not a good man."

Finding herself a bit trapped by his backwards reasoning, Wren felt her heart pound in blatant panic. Could she do it? Could she tell him what troubled her and kept her locked in her home? Erik's hand slid out from under her to grasp her fisted one, forcing it open and entwining with it.

"Tell me."

"Okay! Okay, I'll try to. God, you are pushy," Wren inhaled deeply through her nose and closed her eyes, steeling herself for what she was going to say. "When I first moved out, I was really lonely. Worse than I am now and that's fucking bad. When I was in high school, I felt alone even if there were people all around me. But then I lived alone, away from mom and everyone, and it was even worse.

I kept thinking, 'I could die here in my apartment and no one would know, not for weeks.' So I looked for attention in…other…other ways. Any way to keep me from being alone. Every time a guy crossed my path who had even the slightest interest in me, I …I…let them do whatever they wanted."

She felt Erik stiffen against her, his muscles tense at her words, in disgust or anger she couldn't tell. Tightening her lips, she kept her eyes closed as he sat up. Next to her, she felt his elbow resting to prop him up so he could watch her. Shameful tears stung at her like hornets and self-loathing welled like black ichors in her mind.

"Why?" he breathed in slight amazement and sadness. A shuddery breath escaped her and she felt a knot in her chest cut off her air supply and choke her. God damn it, she was not going to fucking cry.

"I just wanted to be loved, I guess. Didn't want to feel so damn lonely anymore. It just didn't matter what the price was then. When it was happening, I always just looked at them and thought, I might have loved you in another life. Because that's when I figured out that I couldn't love any of them, no matter how much I wanted to. I never felt it and I wished I could. They always just left without a backward glance after a while, like I was a piece of trash that they didn't want to step on."

Silence.

"And I am a piece of trash. I feel like…I am a whore and that's why I'm all alone," a small sob escaped her and she turned her face to the side, trying to hide it in the blankets. She wanted to smother herself away from his burning gaze which she couldn't see. "I just wanted to feel warmth and their skin against mine. I thought maybe I could find some sort of comfort in it but it just made me cold. I started drifting away from everyone and avoiding people because I didn't want to hate myself anymore for being a slut."

No answer. He didn't move at all.

"That's why I can't stand you touching me. I'm filthy, I'm awful and I don't deserve it. But I want it so badly and it makes me even more of a bad person," she finished in a quiet whisper, afraid of the emotions which ran rampant in her unwilling soul. It was all the awful truth. All of those attempts at happiness had ruined her and made her so much less of who she was before.

Wren listened quietly to the man above her, too ashamed to open her eyes or breathe a single puff of air. He must be disgusted with her; that's why he was so silent. Revolt must be coursing through him at being against so dirty a whore. She felt her stomach quiver and her legs shake in anticipation for his rejection.

But it never came. No word, not even breath. It felt as if a statue of a man was atop her not Erik. After a moment she licked her terribly dry lips and released a shuddery sigh.

"I won't hate you if you leave. I understand if you do. It might be better that way," she whispered in defeat, her heart clashing in hope that he would and wouldn't. Finally, he moved, slowly but with stiff resolve. Wren felt his large hand slip away from her hers, the warmth of it abandoning her cold flesh. It ran down her forearm, fingers treading over tensed muscle and leftover baby fat, before sliding to her neck.

A jolt of electricity shot to her liver when the appendages tenderly wrapped about her throat, caressing the fine hairs at the back like harp strings. Slowly, they drew upwards to cup her jaw line, the blunt end of his thumb brushing along her chin and lips. Erik rested his head in the hollow of her nape where his hand had been, hot breath blowing on her collarbone.

"Erik?" Wren dared to query, her eyelashes quivering open a bit. A small sound between a growl and a hum responded and the fingers tapped on her lips as if knocking. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" his voice rumbled from his chest to hers like a mighty train, crashing into her sensibilities.

"Why are you bothering with me? I mean, I'm not an 'angel' or whatever. I'm not even a decent person, so why-"

Before she could finish her debasing sentence, the loving hand snapped over her mouth a bit harshly, silencing her. Erik sat up as her eyes widened in surprise and mild fear. Gazing at her with a fierce intensity and annoyance, he leaned closer to her face, his lips hardened in a tight line.

"Despite what you say, you are more than just decent. I have met far worse people than you, dealt with them, worked for them and loved them. I am a monster, Wren, a hideous carcass who knows beauty and ugliness better than most. And I tell you," he dropped his thick, velvety voice to a mere murmur. His fired blue eyes softened and he released her lips a bit reluctantly. "You are no monster, nor whore, nor even a scandalous woman. As far as I can tell, you are merely lonely and self-debasing to the extremes of the term."

Wren felt her heart calm down from the plummeting trip it had been careening on and her muscles relax. For a few moments she studied his honest face, every crooked line and ridge without disgust. Timidly, she reached up and cupped his cheeks in her palms, her thumbs brushing over harsh flesh and the smooth skin. Her mind could hardly wrap itself around the words he had said yet she felt comfort in it. A small smile broke the wall of her blank grimace.

"Funny, the first kind words in a long time and they happen to be 'lonely' and 'self-debasing'," she bubbled with a laugh, trying hard to push away her hurting doubts. A grin of relief also spread on Erik's face, brightening the frustration he had carried towards her and her self-debasement.

Easing down to rest his head again on her shoulder, he allowed himself to enjoy her fingers digging through his brown hair, tugging out knots he had made in his sleep. A content rumble echoed in his chest cavity as he relaxed, allowing his full weight to comfortably crush her under him.

For a moment a sheet of fear paralyzed her under him, carpeting her in an insane desire to beat at him and run away. After a few moments of internal struggle she continued to play with his hair, dragging her fingers over and around his ears and forehead.

"Erik?" Wren whispered into his ear, her lips brushing his lobe.

"Hmm?"

"You are no monster."

"Thank you, mademoiselle. But I am afraid I shall continue to disbelieve you."

Wren stopped her hand and drew it away. His words had not settled with her right. If he could convince her that she was not what she always believed, then so would she. If he wanted to play hardball, she would play.

"Alright, then I am a slut. You lied."

"No, no you are-"

"You are not a monster."

"But-"

"No!" she snapped a bit harshly, her voice taking on a biting tone. Erik tensed and prepared to move away from her, disgruntled that they were fighting again. Wren wrapped his broad shoulders in her pathetic-feeling arms, attempting to prevent escape. Somehow she had to make sense of the hell she was in and his tender wishes to understand. Somehow or another, it has to make sense.

He must have felt her desperation for he froze, neither moving away or coming closer. If he really wanted to get away then there really was no stopping him and they both knew it.

"If you want me to believe you, then you must believe me when I say that you are no monster. Face it, Erik, the only thing that was wrong back in 18-fucking-whenever was that people were superstitious and stupid. There is nothing wrong with you and anyone who thinks otherwise are the monsters," Wren ranted in defense of him. Her breath ran out and she felt her lungs collapse and suck in air. Erik was still for a good few moments, his face turned away as he half crouched over her, her arms flung about him still.

Finally, he looked up at her, his brilliant blue eyes soft but smiling, the shining crystals of color gleaming oddly. A bit unsteadily he leaned forward, resting his weight on one elbow. His other hand came up to cup the back of her head, holding her still, as he pressed his lips against her forehead, shaking and gentle. Again he kissed the corner of her eye and her temple, then her cheek, her nose and back again to her forehead. Wren felt a shivery weakness come over her as she enjoyed his attention, taking it as a sign that he finally accepted her words.

After a few moments he sat up all the way, crawling away from her overly-heated form. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his tussled brown hair and looked at the plate of food. Wren also sat up, a mixture of relief and disappointment in her gut. Her own jumbled locks fell in her face as she watched him, a bit wary. He cast her a lopsided grin and grabbed a piece of fruit.

"So, what shall we do today?"