Текст книги "Heat"

Автор книги: R. Lee Smith

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She wrapped her legs around his waist, crying out hoarsely as that part of her that craved him crawled toward brittle and covetous climax. She felt a rushing heat inside her as her body flooded with late desire, and he roared like a dragon, his body shuddering in the surge of some inner storm. His cum came fast, a raging jet of it that filled her womb and poured out of her in streams, and then it was done.

He braced his weight on the tiles, panting, and then tried to pull away.

“Oh God no!” she screamed, humping at him in the sickly grip of her body’s need.

He shook her off, baring his teeth, and stepped out of the shower. When she tried to reach for him, he slapped her, sending her tumbling to the bottom of the tub. He turned, stood over the toilet and pissed endlessly, his head thrown back, still breathing hard. She might as well be on the moon for all she mattered to him right now.

Sue-Eye curled around herself, rubbing in a frenzy at her throbbing pussy, cursing in fits and starts. It would never be enough. Her body knew when the blood-stained hand was on her; she was numb to her own touch.

When Kane thumbed the flush-lever and turned around, she was almost under control again, still bitter and furious, but smart enough to try and hide it. His eyes dropped to her hand, writhing in frustration between her thighs. He showed no expression.

“You didn’t let me finish,” she said, before she could stop herself. It was a foolish accusation, and a pointless one.

“I wasn’t doing it for you,” he replied. His gaze drifted to the narrow window. “You’ll get another chance,” he said, and left.

Sue-Eye sat up under the spray, rubbing at herself until her wrist ached and she gave up in disgust. ‘If I were that purple-haired bitch, he’d have made me cum,’ she thought viciously. ‘Twice.’

She wanted Raven dead in that moment. She wanted Kane to do it. She wanted to make it happen.

And she knew she could.

*

He let Raven have the bed. Poor little Raven and her poor little period probably couldn’t survive a night on the carpet. But Kane was lying with Sue-Eye. His arm was around her waist. His hard, naked body was pressed against her back. He let Raven have the bed, but he fell asleep with Sue-Eye.

She lay in the dark with his breath stirring the hairs on her neck, drawing a brittle kind of comfort from that. She hurt a hundred times worse than after her initiation into the Pack. She was bruised inside and out by Kane’s rough sex, but she was easy in her mind. He’d taken her five times now, waiting as long as he seemed able to in between each banging, until he had been visibly throbbing with the need of it. And Sue-Eye, pressed beneath him, had cum twice in response to his forceful movements. She’d tasted blood both times.

When he wasn’t fucking her, then for the most part, he was ignoring her. He worked his little meth lab or whatever the hell it was, looking for all the world like Hollywood’s idea of a mad scientist—all clinking glass and drops of weird liquid—except for the claws and fangs, of course. He was completely absorbed by what he was doing. He noticed her only if she moved or spoke, and even then, it was clear that she was just a distraction.

He’d hit her only twice, and it was her own fault both times. The first time, it was because she didn’t hear his snapping fingers when he got around to wanting her. She should have been paying attention, but Raven had the TV on and Sue-Eye was sitting next to her, trying to watch The Simpsons through a storm of static. She noticed all right when he shoved his chair back and came for her, but by then it was too late. He had her by the throat in an instant and punched her in the gut once and the kidneys twice, pow pow, left and right, leaving her in a spreading pool of piss and pain, scarcely able to breathe, much less scream. And then she’d had to fuck him, both hands clapped tight over her mouth, shrieking with each thrust (and she’d cum that time, cum in spite of the pain or because of it), tears coating her face. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d cried in front of someone, although she remembered it was Dawg who’d done it to her so it couldn’t have been all that long ago.

The other time he’d hit her had been even more her fault. Hot and tired, her kidneys still throbbing like cancer, she’d been trying to choke down a bottle of water and Raven had asked, politely enough, if Sue-Eye would bring her one. “Get it yourself, bitch,” popped right out, and she’d had just enough time for horror as she realized what she’d said, not enough even to begin apologizing, when Kane was at her. The back of his hand connected with her mouth, splitting her lips and filling her throat with blood. She fell, but he caught her by the hair before she could hit the floor, yanking her up and slapping her twice more with dizzying speed.

She’d started to wail her sorrys then, all right, and he’d put a claw to her windpipe and snarled, “All I have to do is push a little, human, and you will never make another sound again. Watch your fucking words.”

But other than that, he was okay. He didn’t hit her for the fun of it. He didn’t hit her just because he was hot and pissed off, which he very clearly was. When he fucked her, he didn’t need to knock her around to get it up, although he was rough and didn’t hesitate to shove her off him when he was done. He was no Prince Charming, but he was no Dawg either.

And when he slept, he wanted her beside him. Her, not Raven. That had to count for something.

Above her, alone in the bed, Raven suddenly whimpered. Sue-Eye felt Kane tense up at once and she knew he was awake. When the bitch got up a minute later, he propped himself up on his elbow to watch her go. The bathroom door shut, but Kane stayed motionless, watchful in the dark.

“Want me to check on her?” Sue-Eye asked.

Kane growled, just like any big dog looking for a reason to bite. He didn’t even glance her way. Sue-Eye made herself be quiet.

Raven reappeared, one hand at her belly, and headed for bed. She stopped when she saw Kane staring at her. She smiled, but the effect was a trifle sickly. “I’m okay,” she said. “It’s normal.”

Kane lay back down, his claws flexing irregularly on Sue-Eye’s belly. He remained tense as Raven climbed back between the sheets and settled herself.

After a long stretch of heavy silence spent listening to him listen to Raven, Sue-Eye said, “What is it you like about her?”

He didn’t answer at first, but she knew he wasn’t sleeping. She didn’t intend to ask again and earn herself a smack, so she rolled onto her side and tried to be content.

Kane’s claws curled inward just a little. “Why?” he asked.

“I want to know what to do,” she said. “If I knew what you liked, I could be the same way.”

He grunted and thought that over for a while. He said, “I like her hair.”

She’d been expecting something more physical, like, ‘I like the way she sucks cock,’ or behavioral, like, ‘She knows when to shut up and when to fuck me.’ She’d never have imagined it was something as mundane as her hair.

“She dyes it, you know,” she said.

She thought she might have heard a hitch in Raven’s steady, sleeping breaths, but Kane’s slow rise onto his elbow masked the sound too much to be sure. He stared down at her, his eyes just a glitter in the dark mask of his face.

“What did you say?” he asked flatly.

“She dyes—” Maybe it was the word he didn’t know. “She colors it. It doesn’t grow in purple and white like that. She colors it.”

“That,” he said, his voice very calm and quiet, “is what I thought you meant. And now I’m curious. Why did you say it?”

“I just…” This wasn’t going well, she could sense it. Her whole body was tingling with alarms it sensed but she could not see. “I just thought you should know.”

“Because…?”

“Because it’s going to grow in different someday. You don’t seem to like surprises.”

She saw his head tilt.

“Are you actually going to lie there looking me in the face and tell me you did it for my sake?” he asked, enunciating very clearly.

This was going very badly. “No,” she said, thinking fast. “For hers.”

A long silence met that reply.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because you hit me today,” she told him.

“I’m going to hit you again if you keep lying to me.”

“You said you liked her hair. She colors her hair. I thought if you found out the hard way, you’d hurt her.”

He stared at her, faceless in the dark room, and finally shook his head and lay back down. “I know she colors her hair,” he said, drawing her a little closer against him. “I knew it the instant I saw her pussy hair wasn’t purple. You color your hair, too. Funny, you forgot to mention that.”

“You didn’t say you liked my hair or I would have.”

“You just keep lying to me and see what happens.”

It was probably a good idea to stop there. She’d averted disaster, but she had the lingering feeling that it had been a narrow thing. Still, she could not resist the urge to try and make up for lost ground. “Do you want me to color mine like hers?” she asked.

“I don’t care if you cut it all off and paint your whole head,” he replied. His hand slipped down over her stomach to squeeze her between her thighs. “This is what I care about, and even about that I don’t care too fucking much.”

“I want to make you happy.”

“Then shut up and let me sleep.”

Sue-Eye lay quiet, her heart pounding and heat in her face. His hand relaxed, but stayed where it was. His fingers were callused, rough against her newly-shaven skin. She could feel one claw pricking at her thigh.

Kane growled out a breath and moved his mouth a little closer to her ear. “Did you ever fuck your dead commander?” he asked, his breath tickling her hair. He sounded as if he were smiling.

Dawg, he meant. “Yes.”

“Did you cum for him?”

“No.” For Johnny Lobo, yes. In the beginning. When she thought he loved her. But not for Dawg, not for any of the Pack.

“You did for me. Twice. I could smell it.”

He was definitely smiling, and it wasn’t the pride of accomplishment that inspired him. Sue-Eye could feel the teeth of the trap, but she still didn’t know which leg to gnaw free. “Yes,” she said simply.

The hand between her thighs wedged in deeper, parting her. And she, God help her, felt that electric jump as the claw that had pulled Dawg’s skull open now slipped up inside her.

“I find that…suspicious.” Kane stroked slowly, perhaps just to feel the smoothness of her shaved sex. Every so often, his thick finger would penetrate her again, as though testing her rising temperature. She could feel his groin at her ass, still relaxed and unaroused, but his voice was teasing. “Flattering, but suspicious.”

She hummed, rocking her hips slightly with his movements. She was starting to tingle, just a little. The pain in her sides was excruciating; it would not allow her to feel true pleasure, but what there was was just enough to make her wish he’d keep doing what he was doing.

He moved over her, pressing his mouth right against her ear, and breathed, “I don’t like you, human.” His hand rubbed slowly, deliciously, at her below. The muscles of his arm flexed and uncoiled as he moved, exactly in time with the rise and fall of his breath. “And I don’t trust you. I don’t want you here and I know my Raven doesn’t want you here, either. But this, now, this is interesting.”

He took his hand from her pussy and waved it before her face, letting her smell the faint odor of herself, her arousal.

“This almost makes me think you mean it. But then, I had you five times today and you only came twice. I must not excite you after all.”

“Try me,” she said.

“Oh, I could make you scream all right.” His hand went unerringly to her side and pushed, startling a hoarse cry out of her and waking that dull pain to new heights. “I could do that just by getting on top of you. If I wanted to. I don’t have to ask if you want me to.” He nudged her in the other side, nuzzling at her throat as he did so, and brought her to an even keel of agony. “When I did this to you and then fucked you, you came, ichuta’a. You came hard.” He chuckled and then snuggled down for sleep, his hand coming to rest against at her waist, his game done for the night.

Sue-Eye concentrated on taking even breaths, letting tears of pain well and fall without restriction. She hated him. It didn’t stop her from wanting him. If anything, it made that sick lust even brighter. And she hated him for that, too.

“I’ll tell you what I want,” he said drowsily. “I want this fucking heat to end. Can you do that for me, ichuta’a?”

“No.”

“Too bad. I’ll have to keep fucking you, then. And you’d better hope I excite you more tomorrow than I did today.” He rubbed her belly briefly and then dug at her with his claws. “Because I’m likely to get my feelings hurt if I don’t.”

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Chapter Twenty

Tagen sat on the edge of his bed and watched shadows dance on his wall. It was finally morning, and although it was stuffy and unpleasant, he thought it might be just cool enough that he would escape Heat, or at least, avoid it until much later in the day.

The device Daria had procured for him waited by his hip. It had been an embarrassment to use, but he would be a liar to say it had not been helpful. It had done the work of many hours in only one, and it had not chafed or wearied his arm. All the same, he could not look at it. He intended to take it back with him to Jota. It was a damned useful item, and doubly amazing for the fact that humans had come up with the design without Heat to inspire them. So he would keep it, but he could not help the sting to his pride that he had used it at all.

His thoughts had a way of moving back to the shop where Daria had taken him. A sexplay supply shop, easily and immediately recognizable despite the disparity of their two races. Porn, as it was called here. Such a small word, so dismissive. And yet, such a vast world it encompassed. He could not get over seeing that great wall of synthetic phalli. The sizes. The colors. The shapes. There had been prongs, for the gods’ sakes, and this on a world where any human could easily find a mate merely by asking.

Tagen smiled faintly, still staring unseeingly at the wall.

The proprietor had flirted with him. And in gratifyingly direct fashion, so similar to the manner in which a Jotan might approach. Her gaze had been hungry and aggressive. Her musk had been so full. She had demanded him. She had threatened to have him right there on the shop’s floor.

In the growing grip of Heat, Tagen had been tempted. It was unfeasible, of course. The proprietor had surely not realized he was alien to this world, but she would as soon as she’d felt his hands on her body. Mating with her would mean keeping an eye on her afterwards and he could not simply walk away from Daria to take up with another human. Daria may or may not be delighted to see the back of him, but he did not have the energy to ingratiate himself to a new host, to run all the risks all over again just for the convenience of easy sex.

Besides, although it had appealed greatly to his ego to know that he was an attractive male by human standards and as alluring as it had been to hear a female’s command for mating, he had felt no real urge to be with her. He had not even been interested enough to ask the female’s name. And for all that he had been receptive to her at the time, when he had been alone with Heat, it had been Daria again in his imaginings.

Daria.

He supposed he should go downstairs now. He wasn’t hungry, but he knew clinically that he should eat, or at the very least, drink. And he would have to talk to Daria. About anything, so long as she saw he was alive and well and not liable to leap on her in lustful frenzy.

Not that the thought had never crossed his mind, gods knew, but that was done now, he thought. She had caught him out, and now that the secrecy of Heat was destroyed, so went much of his fury and frustration. And he had forced her hand as well, ripped the dressing from her old wound and pulled all the poison out into light. He could live with the way things were, even if he could not deny the longing for things to be different between them.

Gods, what she had lived through.

He had known it would be bad, had suspected there to have been some attack, but he would never have guessed at the whole truth. Small wonder she had feared him so. Knowing what he did now, he was astonished that all she had done thus far was indulge in tears and mindless panic. She might easily and understandably have been compelled to do one or both of them an injury. Instead, she slept just down the hall from him.

She was so much stronger than she knew. Tagen realized he wanted to impress her, and it was not the same as wanting to impress a Jotan female. Jotan females had been handed respect all their lives for merely the accident of their gender, but Daria had earned his high opinion against every odd, and he knew that if she found him worthy of her esteem, than it would be sincere as well. Perhaps now that there was honesty between them, friendship would follow. He could content himself with that.

The light spilling in through his window lost the thin glow unique to early morning and began to strengthen with full day. He really had to go downstairs. He still believed it was cooler than it had been, but that was no guarantee that it would remain so. Much as he may desire to, he could not stay in his room forever.

Tagen grimaced. If nothing else, he would have to clean his… acquisition…before he needed it again. Preferably while Daria was below him and could not know what he was doing. Yes, it had been her idea and yes, she had bought the thing, but still.

He stood up, spurred at last to reluctant action, and dressed. He opened his door and listened until he heard Daria moving downstairs. She was in the kitchen, by the sound of it, and that was as good as Tagen supposed he could expect. Thus assured he would not be interrupted, Tagen washed his stimulator and returned it to his room, tossing a pillow over it to mask it from sight. Not that Daria was in the habit of wandering into his room—she avoided this place with a vigilance nearly equal to her cleanliness—but he didn’t want to look at it, either.

He went downstairs, passing the tee-vee with only an idle glance. The media feeds were on, broadcasting more news of Earth’s civil war. Grendel watched it from the sofa, its ears cocked forward and long tail twitching. Violence and death and murder by the hundreds. The cat looked disturbingly smug.

In the kitchen, Daria was just sitting down before her computer, but she stood again when he walked in. She twisted her hands together in her shirtfront, exposing a pale strip of belly-flesh. Her cheeks were pink and she wasn’t meeting his eyes. She looked more uncomfortable than even he felt.

“May I have a drink?” he asked at last, just to prompt her to movement.

She sprang away with an expression of profound relief and Tagen seated himself at the table. She brought him a tall glass of the iced tea she made, and he accepted it with a nod of thanks. How very formal they were.

Daria hovered at his side, watching him drink and looking miserably like she wished to speak.

She was going to ask him how he liked his stimulator, he just knew it. And he’d have to answer her, damn it all.

Hell. He might as well give her the opening and get it out of the way.

“So now you know,” he said.

Her lips twitched up in a shame-faced smile. “Yeah,” she said, and touched her cheek. “And so do you.”

She sat down at the table with him, folding her hands before her and staring fixedly at her fingers. “I need to apologize,” she said. “I don’t really want to. It seems like every other word out of my mouth since you came along has been ‘sorry’. By now, it’s really started to lose whatever meaning it ever had. But I have to apologize anyway. I can only hope you understand how much I do mean it. I feel horrible for how I’ve treated you.”

The weight of guilt was all around her, seeming to pull the light and substance from the room with all the capacity of a newborn black hole. Tagen felt himself wanting to fidget. “You had your reasons,” he said, wincing internally at the awkwardness of the words.

“I had an excuse,” she said, immediately and with scathing bitterness. “I had no reasons.”

The self-disgust in her words put a new gravity in the room. Tagen could think of nothing he could say to lighten it. The silence stretched out.

“I’m trying to say that…I’ve been…” She trailed off. Her head bent, her hair falling forward to hide her face. It made her look smaller, younger. She said nothing for a long time, but then, “I’m going to try to be better.”

She sounded utterly without hope, as if ‘better’ were as far beyond her as the moon.

Hell. He groped for something cheerful to say to her.

“I appreciate your efforts,” he said, and then covered his eyes and sighed.

She laughed, a harsh and hurt-filled sound. “What exactly do you appreciate, spaceman?” she asked, again with that tone of loathing.

He moved his hand and gave her a hard look. “That you have not stabbed me in my sleep.”

“Christ, you’re easy to please.” She shook her hair back and dragged her hand across her eyes. Her fingers lingered on her cheek.

He wished he knew what to say to appease her. Speech had never been one of his strengths. Not speech, not wit, not insight…gods, they’d make anyone a sek’ta these days.

He said, “If you are seeking my forgiveness, you have it.”

She did not look at him or respond in any way.

Tagen shrugged uncomfortably and let his eyes rest on the wall. “And if you are not, I suppose you have it anyway. What the hell, as you humans say.”

She laughed, which surprised him, and when he saw the sincere light of humor in her sad eyes it filled him with a cautious pleasure. She rubbed at her cheek again and then dropped her hands and offered him a wan smile. “You’re a good man, Tagen,” she said.

He thought bleakly of slipping into her room that night, painting his hand with her oils as he plied her sleeping body. “We can both be better,” he said.

“Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for all the shit I’ve given you. I won’t bother you anymore.” She seemed about to say more, but abandoned it with a sigh. She got up from the table and moved to prepare him food.

“Thank you,” he said. He thought it an inappropriate answer, but it seemed to be what she needed to hear.

She only nodded, she didn’t even look at him. Soon the smells of cooking eclipsed those of cleansers. Daria worked at the oven, her head bent as though in penance, and perhaps it was. It would take a punishing mind to make Tagen stand over hot pans on such a warm day. He felt for her.

“Shall I tell you of Jota?” he asked suddenly, as much to fill the silence as to raise her mood.

She glanced at him, her eyes still shadowed, but managed to smile. “Sure. Tell me…Tell me about you.”

“Me?” He drew back slightly. “What of me?”

“I don’t know. Anything.” She prodded at the food listlessly. “Why’d you become a cop or…join the army, I guess, since it’s pretty much the same thing. Did something happen, or did you just wake up one day and decide to sign up?”

“Neither,” Tagen said, still thrown by her interest. Was there a deeper meaning, or merely a desire to be repaid for the intimacy he had forced out of her the day before? In either case, his answer could only benefit him. He said, “My…father wished me to join. I did so at the earliest age allowed by our law. I have served now…fifty-one years.”

“Seriously?” She gave him a wide-eyed scrutiny, her stirring-spoon dripping into her open palm. “You don’t look that old.”

“Because I am not old,” he said, somewhat defensively. “Most think me quite young for my rank.”

“Are the years on Jota shorter than Earth’s?”

Tagen thought about it, and then had to close his eyes and sketch figures on the tabletop to think about it some more. “No,” he said at last. “In point of fact, I believe they are longer. Our days are shorter, though. Notably.”

“Oh yeah?” Her head cocked to one side and she regarded him with open interest. “Is it hard to get used to Earth’s time? I mean, if the days are so much longer here…You’re still sleeping just at night. I imagine it must be like pulling a double-shift every day.”

He aimed a claw at her. “That is exactly what it feels like,” he said. “Barring, of course, the expectation of additional pay.”

“Yeah, well, we people of Earth have these great things called ‘unions’ that you might want to look into a little before you go home.” She turned back to the oven. “Was your father a soldier, too?”

“Yes.” He picked up his glass and sipped to take away the sour taste that had suddenly invaded his mouth. “One of my world’s greatest.”

“Really?” She turned again, and this time her gaze lingered. “He was famous?”

“Yes.”

“Are you?”

Tagen smiled wryly. “Oh yes.”

“How famous?”

His chest swelled slightly as his body displayed for her without consulting his mind. He had to laugh at himself, breaking the bitter sound into pieces by takking his claws hard on the table. “Very,” he said, answering her question. “Indeed, I think there is not a major city in all of Jota’s worlds that does not have at least one military hall named for Pahnee.”

“Then…” Slowly, her expression faded into puzzlement. “Why are you here?”

He frowned at her, wondering what could have prompted this bizarre spate of amnesia. Slowly, he began, “To pursue—”

“No, I know that. I guess I should have said, ‘Why are you here?’ Famous people tend not to be asked to do dangerous things here on Earth.”

“No? How then do they become famous?”

“They act or play sports or go into politics.” Daria’s mouth puckered. “You know, when I say it out loud like that, it sounds pretty stupid.” Her attention returned to the stove. She turned away from him and resumed cooking.

“I am here because I am famous,” Tagen told her. “On my world, those with well-known names are at times called upon to earn them out.”

“Lucky you.”

“Indeed.” But there was not as much bitterness in his answer as there might have been only a few days ago. It made him feel that he had to justify his tone, and he lamely added, “If I should be successful in this mission it will be a…a rising stair for me.”

“Actually, it’ll be more like a platform,” Daria remarked, her back still to him. “It sounds like you went up that stair when they gave you the job. Now that everyone knows no one can do it but Tagen Pahnee, the only stair in store for you is the one they’re all waiting for you to tumble down.”

Tagen felt a smile stretching his lips.

Daria’s back stiffened and she spun around, her spoon raised. “Oh, I’m sorry! Me and my big mouth, what a rotten thing to say!”

“But a true thing, I think.” He flicked his claws dismissively at her horror. “Such have been my feelings since I woke to find my orders, although I could not put them into words.”

And naturally, she could. Such a ready mind.

He said, “I have known all of my named life that I would follow my father’s way. I accepted it. I accept it now.”

“Your enthusiasm is an inspiration, Tagen.”

“Mm.” He set his glass down and stood, pacing over to watch her cook her alien food. He looked down at her, his gaze lingering inexplicably on the curve of her neck where it sloped into her shoulder. After a lengthy contemplation of his past and her gently-curving skin, he said, “I am trying to think if I ever did not wish to be a soldier. I honestly do not know. I knew that I would be. I think perhaps I felt there was little point in wishing otherwise.”

“Is it…like that for everyone on Jota?” Daria asked. “Is everyone just assigned their job?”

“No. As you say, lucky me.” He regarded her closely. “What is it you wished to become when you were young?”

“Well, fortunately, I’ve always wanted to be a neurotic shut-in,” she replied, too brightly, and then shook her head. “I wanted to be a dancer when I was really young. I even took lessons until…I stopped. Later, I wanted to show horses. I wanted it with my whole heart, despite the fact that I’d never even seen a horse up close. I knew the breed I wanted, though. Morgans. Then I found out how much it would cost to buy a foundation stallion, and I gave up. After that, I don’t think I really wanted to be anything. I just went along.”

“Ah. Yes.”

“The difference being, you went along to become a famous intergalactic lawman and rid the universe of evil-doers. I went along and ended up answering phones and filing invoices at Kruegar and Lauder.” She sighed, a dispirited sound. “Then I became a neurotic shut-in.”

“You are a part of…ridding the universe of evil-doers,” he said cautiously.

“Yeah, a small, neurotic part.”

“The sea is filled by single drops.”

She laughed again, encouraging him.

“I will never find E’Var without your help, Daria Cleavon,” he said, and her smile faded. She avoided his eyes but he continued to keep his gaze locked on her, trying to convince her with sincerity she had to feel since she would not look at him. “I know better now how much it has cost you to have me in your home, and still you offer me aid. I am grateful.”

She ducked her head, her cheeks burnished with pink.

Tagen steeled himself and very gingerly touched his hand to her back. He felt her muscles ripple as she first locked up and then relaxed. He opened his palm, gradually resting his hand until he touched her fully.

He could have stood thus for hours. She was not trembling. She was not tight or apprehensive. After a moment or two, she even smiled.

Tagen’s breath eased from him. He patted twice, awkwardly, and then returned to his chair to await his meal. It was a start. A fresh start.

*

Sue-Eye awakened to the sound of screams. She jerked upright, but as fast as she was, she was no equal to Kane, who flipped to his feet like an acrobat and was at the window in an instant. He twitched the curtain aside with one claw, admitting a stripe of daylight that turned his black eyes briefly pure white.

“What is it?” Raven asked sleepily, sitting up as the sheets pooled around her waist. Her hand drifted to her stomach and rubbed.