"What else would your world be like?" Rafe asked, his eyes glazed over like he was already imagining the better world I could create.

"In my world, you wouldn't see your best friend's eyes on another person."

Rafe's eyes remained shut. It wasn't a surprise to anyone anymore. The Owned often became unwilling organ donors, that's just how it was. "In your world, people wouldn't get parts of their skin flayed off to eat it," he added, nodding down towards his arms.

I frowned and eyed the pink stained bandages. "Did you do something wrong? Is that why they did it?"

He shook his head. "No, one of my crew..."

My eyes widened. "Y-you took the blame for someone?"

"I always do, if I can."

"Maybe that's why they call you Angel too."

"I'm no angel, Kendal," he said, his words sharp as a knife as I watched his eyes linger around my chest. I resisted the urge to cover myself. It was like he had laser vision and could see through my clothes with the sudden onslaught of lust in his eyes as he stared at me.

"Um, it's Kender. Kendal is just the name they admitted me under."

His head dropped and a slow, teasing smile parted his lips. "Good to know. I don't want to call out the wrong name when we're fucking."

I blinked, slowly registering the last two words. "What? I mean, no. Absolutely not! There will be no fucking!"

He got to his knees and crawled the half an inch distance between us. There wasn't much space for me to move. I had a measly five inches from my back to the muddy wall. His arm shot out and his hand clamped on the back of my head. Pushing back, I resisted his pull.

"Angel, stop it."

"Rafe," he mumbled, before leaning in and sniffing my neck. "Call me, Rafe."

"Rafe," I paused and punched my index and middle finger into his chest,  enough to hurt and catch his attention. "I'm not doing this with you."

His shoulders slumped and he heaved a sigh, but didn't pull away. "Can I just smell you then?"

Stumped, I blinked at him. "This has to be the most insane situation I've ever been in, well besides being in prison, of course," I mumbled.

The corner of his mouth lifted, "Of course," he said, turning my chin into my shoulder to run his nose up the column of my neck. I shivered at his deep inhale.

"I do smell good though, don't I?" My voice shook as I continued to speak, "Took the longest shower I could before I got here." My eyes brightened at the memory and gently flipped my hair out of his way. "I got to use hot water and soap too. Damn if that isn't a special type of heaven."

"Soap?" he asked, his nose nuzzling the junction between my neck and chin, his hot breath leaving a moist residue behind. "What about shampoo?"

I nodded and pulled a chunk of hair forward, pushing it under his nose so he could smell. "Conditioner too. I don't think my hair has ever been this soft."

He moaned, his fingers digging deeper into my shoulders as he clutched me close. He pulled back an inch and stared at me. "Can I touch you? Your skin, your hair?"

"Um-" I paused. "Not sexually, but for experimentation purposes, sure. Did you come from a poor family too?"

His hands slowly slipped into my hair, combing through the strands and his eyes closed in pleasure at the softness. "Not initially, no. I had lots of money, but a couple of years ago, I lost everything."

"How?"

His fingers continued to comb throw my hair. "Well, the thirteen NWO rulers didn't like what I was investing my money in."

"Fourteen," I mumbled, feeling my eyelashes flutter against my cheek as he started massaging my scalp.

Rafe paused in his ministrations. "Thirteen," he said. "There's only thirteen, maybe even less than that."

I popped one eye open. "Why would they lie about something like that? Seems petty."

Shrugging his shoulders, trailing one hand down my throat while his other continued to massage my head. I let out a satisfied sigh and leaned forward. He continued with his story. "I was investing my money into a terrorist group. Well, who they consider a terrorist group, and they found out."

I opened my eyes again, surprised to see him staring intently at me. "The one against the NWO? You openly funded rebels?" I asked. "Why didn't they kill you?"

His mouth curved into a smile. "I didn't openly fund them, I just wasn't as careful as I thought. They didn't kill me because I knew too much. I could kill them and they knew it. I was Secret Service--I didn't need to work, it was more of a hobby. I saw one too many things done in the name of human advancements and cures solely for the rich. Did you know, that the rich with cancer get cured in two weeks," he said.

"There is no cure for cancer. I would know. My brother had it. Thankfully, he's in remission."

"You really believe that?" he asked, dropping his hands down to my arms to unfold them and put them at my sides. "There's a cure. There has been for the last sixty-five years at least, but they make too much money off the individuals getting treatment. It's more of an opportunity for the rich to get slaves too." With both hands he nudged the jacket off my shoulders. "I miss being clean all the time. It's amazing what people take for granted."

Not fully registering what he was doing—I was still reeling from the cancer-has-a-cure comment—I sighed and shrugged the jacket off. When his hand fell to the buttons of my tuxedo shirt I didn't even bother to knock his hand off. It was when I felt his calloused fingers trailing down the bare skin of the front of my chest towards the rise of my breasts that I finally realized what was going on.

I glance down, seeing my bra exposed. "Rafe—"

Not letting me finish, he captured my lips in a deep, talented kiss that had me responding without meaning to. Rafe could kiss. Rafe was probably a kissing expert with the way he nibbled, licked, and sucked; with the way he coaxed my lips open.

"Rafe." I tried to speak against his lips, but it came out as more of a grunt.

When his tongue dipped into the crevasse of my mouth, I finally caved and leaned in to him, slipping my hands up his chest to wrap around his neck. I'd never been kissed like this in my life. The other kisses I experienced—Billy, bless you—were just not the same as this, so I couldn't be faulted for letting him kiss me longer than I should have.

His hands, moving from my front to slid down my back, cupping my ass, pulling me closer to him as the urgency of the kiss multiplied. I sucked his tongue and licked at the back of his teeth. My whimpers were exciting him into a frenzy, the evidence was rising against me. He let out a boyish groan as I purposefully shifted my hips against him, relishing his reaction.

Comfort was something I didn't seek out, but when it presented itself, how could I say no?

Then it happened. The searing pain.

I wasn't sure if he was trying to deepen the kiss even more or take a bite out of me. I don't think he knew what he wanted either, but when he bit my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood I gasped from the pain and punched his chest hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

"What the hell are you doing?" I cried out, rubbing over the sting and checking for blood.

Breathing heavily, he ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

"What were you trying to do: kiss me or eat me?"

He shrugged helplessly, and his puzzled expression made me wish there was more room in this tunnel so I could put some distance between us. "I don't know. Both, maybe."

"Well, I'm not on the menu!"

"I know. I'm sorry. It's harder than you think... like trying to break an addiction," he said, his face looking haunted.

"Why can't you be addicted to something normal?" I mumbled more to myself than to Rafe.

"A normal addiction? When has addiction ever been normal?" he asked as he ruffled his dirty blonde hair again. It seemed to be his nervous tic.

He frowned suddenly and looked me over. "How old are you again?"

I shrugged and batted a piece of dirt from my skirt, wanting to stay fresh and clean as long as I could. I shifted on my knees and was careful to not brush against the dirt of the tunnel walls anymore than necessary. "Does it matter?"

"It doesn't, I guess." He heaved a sigh again and leaned partially out of the tunnel to look up at the sky. "Rounds are happening in about thirty minutes."

"Rounds?"

"Twice a day the guards pretend to actually do their job and there's a prisoner count. If we're not all there five people for everyone missing gets shuffled down to level three. The next day the guards will list off the names of the ones taken and play a tape of each of them being tortured and eventually killed over the intercom. They'll play it throughout the day, the night, and into to the next morning so that when you fall asleep—if you can—you'll be waking to nightmares."

The small gasp of disgust was louder than I intended, but it wasn't the first time I'd heard this. They were just rumors then. Now it's a reality.  "That's awful."

"It happens in every prison around the world."

"Really?"

Rafe nodded. "Didn't you see the list of guidelines they have in the front? It's carved, on a plaque no-less. It's something to brag about to the elite. Bird should've told you more before sending you in," he paused and his eyebrow lifted at my blank expression. "Wow, they really sent you in blind. You got your work cut out for you."

"We," I corrected.

Rafe gave a jaded chuckle. His eyes were tired and the skin on his face was drawn tight over his cheek bones like he was being starved of food and sleep. It's the first time I really looked at him enough to see the toll this place was having on him. If I brought out his picture and compared the two the only thing that was still the same were his eyes.

Mama always said if you're going to fall in love with someone fall in love with their eyes because it's the only thing about a person that never changes. Looking at his eyes, I knew that to be true now.

Hell, even his eyebrow was different with that big white scar marring it.

"Why are you laughing?" I whispered, biting my lip, hoping he hadn't caught me staring, and waiting for the answer that I knew was going to come but hoped wouldn't.

Rafe had given up. He'd blended in with this horrifying society of throw-away criminals. Was it even fair to call all of them criminals? Probably not, seeing as most of them most likely didn't deserve the lifetime sentence everyone of them had.

"Tell me why you're laughing, Rafe," I repeated my question as a demand, praying that my assumption of him was wrong.

"Because, you think I'm going to help you," he said.

He offered me a genuinely sad smile as he reached out and  patted my cheek. I reached up, wrapping a hand around his wrist, holding his hand to my cheek. Rafe frowned at my tight grip on him and tilted his head, giving me a curious stare.

"You are going to help me."

Rafe jerked his hand out of my grasp and cast me a warning look. "Don't push me. Your newness... your clean smell, it'll wear off soon and then what will you have to offer me? Nothing. I'll let this act of rebelliousness slide, but do it again and I'll make you realize just how much of a nothing you are here."

I swallowed, his warning settling in the pit of my stomach. I wanted to argue, but kept my mouth shut. What could I say to turn this man into who he used to be?

Nothing. His words mocked me.

Maybe so, but he was the only one who could help me and as much as I hated to admit it, I needed it.