We can watch the world even if they walk away. Forget about tomorrow, tomorrow is today. You were born a lion and a lion you will stay.

Hollywood Undead - Lion

It took a surprisingly short amount of time to move my things to the Clan's manor. I didn't have much. It was odd, or perhaps unsettling, how fast my old life faded away. It didn't even put up a fight. I had no connections which made disappearing scarily easy. And everything that would have been a hindrance to a normal person seemed nothing more than a small speed bump to the Clan. Just as Kael had said, Nev and James got me out of my lease and work all within an hour or two. I figured Nevaeh's 'Gift' played a fairly major role there.

The house was large, so large that 'mansion' seemed to come to mind before 'house'. It had a distinctly gothic style on the exterior, as if it had been built centuries ago. It was made of dark rock with green moss growing between the stones like snakes, and tall windows that looked fit to belong in a cathedral.

I couldn't even begin to understand how a place like this didn't draw attention from the public. Kael had said there were 'protections' against trespassers that wished ill, but that still didn't seem enough to keep a place like this hidden. Though with the miles upon miles of private forest surrounding it, I suppose it wasn't too far-fetched a possibility.

The grounds spread out around the imposing building in gentle slopes with the occasional gnarled tree or squat bush to break up the rolling green. The back corner of the yard melted into a fenced-off wooded area with a large metal gate soaring up above the emerald landscape. The tops of the gate and fence posts curled up and pointed to the sky as if reaching for Heaven, though something about them seemed sad. I made a mental note to check it out when I could. I hadn't had much time to explore yet and I was itching to get some alone time to sort through everything. I never had been much of a people person.

Kael mentioned that the beast of a building I was now residing in had been one of Nev's parents' estates, apparently one of many. It seemed that she was the funding behind the Clan, with safe houses scattered throughout numerous cities, countries, and continents. She was also the one who was the most connected to other Clans and families because of her upbringing.

He didn't go in-depth on much of anything, he just kept saying that they'd explain everything 'in due time' or 'when we have more time' or he'd just look at me and smile his puppy-dog grin. I hated it when people gave answers like that. It was the equivalent to 'because I said so', another anti-explanation, non-answer that had always irked me. But somehow it was impossible to be annoyed with Kael. I had never met someone quite so happy that didn't irritate me.

His demeanor wasn't like the peppy blondes from my high schools or the PSL sorority girls traipsing around every campus in America. No, his happiness was simply real, real and open and impossible to hold against him. I begrudgingly found myself liking him, even though it was foolish, even though I didn't know anything about him. He was just so damn likable. The thought crossed my mind that maybe one of his Darkling 'Gifts' or powers was being ridiculously good-natured, but I figured that was unlikely. I assumed creatures as infamously evil as the descendants of fallen angels probably didn't have powers like 'happiness' or 'likability'.

As I sat in my new room, with plain white walls and dark Victorian furniture, a small part of my brain, maybe the logical part, was still saying this was crazy. That maybe they were some psycho cult who sought out the misfits of society and convinced them that there was something more to life before sacrificing them to a voodoo pagan blood god or making them drink grape cool-aid. Or that I had actually fallen and hit my head on my run and was in a coma. But the rest of me believed wholeheartedly.

I finally felt like I was starting the life I had always known was real, always known was meant for me, calling me. I felt like I was on a path that led somewhere, somewhere I might actually want to go. I felt at peace, no longer having an internal war waging between my mind and my heart. I had never been happier, or at least, my version of happiness, which was probably more like most people's content, or at least not miserable.

I didn't have the pit of self-loathing and depression pulling at my insides. I didn't have the cold thoughts in my head about hating life and all the people living it. I didn't think about death or loss or any of my normal trails of thought. Even the dark whispers in my mind were silent for once and my nights weren't plagued with nightmares. I felt almost normal, almost.

The only problem was the lack of information - the communication lines were strained at best. Nevaeh clearly didn't like me, and if she was distant, then James had practically become a phantom. In the past five days at the manor, I hardly had more than a glance or two of him. I hoped he wasn't avoiding me because of our discussion in the library. I hoped I hadn't spoiled my opportunity here before it had even begun. After all, he was the leader, if there was one person's black-list I wanted to stay off, it was his.

Luckily, I seemed to have an automatic friend in Kael, he dropped by my room every once in a while just to check on how I was adapting. He was truly kind and I found it strange. People were never nice to me without expecting something in return, especially men. But I came to accept fairly quickly that he was a rare type of man and even if I didn't know him well, I allowed myself to trust him, at least slightly. It was impossible not to.

I kept my eyes open for anything suspicious though, but even my keen paranoia couldn't find anything alarm-worthy in him. I tried to use my newfound 'power' that James thought I had, but with no luck.

From what I had seen of the Clan's mansion, all the bedrooms seemed to be centralized in one long, wide hallway on the top floor. Kael's room was directly across the hall from mine, and Nev's was next to his. I hadn't yet seen where James slept. Kael had given me a quick tour of the mansion on my first day, but it hadn't been incredibly thorough, and it hadn't included anything about James. I absently wondered if he did that on purpose, or maybe James didn't sleep, maybe he just plugged himself in somewhere at night, or only half of his brain shut off, like a dolphin. I was clearly beginning to go mad from boredom, or I was finally going crazy from lack of interaction with other Darklings.

Figures, as soon as I found something I might care about, I'd have my sanity ripped away. I couldn't think of anything more fitting than to lose my mind just in time to appreciate what I was losing.

Apparently, this was a busy time for the Clan, or maybe all the time was this busy? Regardless, Kael had explained to me that they would give me a week to become 'acclimated' and to 'think things over' while they worked some matters out before my training started. He had handed me some blank journals and encouraged me to write my questions, thoughts, anything that could help me work through all of this new information.

I was now sitting on my dark blue bedspread, staring out the window with Kael's notebooks strewn all around me, with just as many questions as before, if not more, and very little cooperating out of the books. Every time I wrote a question or thought, ten more seemed to pop up. It was maddening. I couldn't even get one down before I forgot three others. I held the small book over the edge of the bed and let it drop, the quiet thud the only sound in the empty house.

After a few more minutes of sitting in silence, my curiosity got the best of me. The others had left early and Kael had said it would be close to nightfall before they returned. Something about a friend they had to visit in the city. I was fed up with waiting for my week of adjustment to be over and since the house was deserted I figured it was as good a time as any to explore. After all, I wasn't getting any answers by sitting in bed and writing questions. Do

I started with the second-floor hall that Kael, Nev, and my rooms branched off of. None of the other rooms in the enormous hallway seemed to be currently inhabited. There were a few spares, a locked door that Kael had told me was the main supply and weapons room, something like a training room, with tall windows at one end, an office-like study, a couple bathrooms and closets, the library I had woken up in after my 'accident' and then one that resembled an infirmary, with clean, white beds, stainless steel fixtures and the thick smell of bleach meant to cover the stench of old blood.

I padded down the plush rug that almost filled the hallway, just barely allowing the hardwood underneath to peek out along the edges. The walls were lined with pictures and periodically held niches with busts and elegant statuettes centered in them. Most of the paintings were art pieces of beautiful sceneries, but there were some portraits. A picture of a stunning couple caught my eye.

The man was Middle Eastern, tall and handsome with strong features and eyes that looked stern. Authority seemed to flow from him and I could only imagine what his true presence would have been like if just his depiction was so commanding. The woman with him looked of African descent, though I couldn't tell which country. She had Nevaeh's eyes but with wild, curly hair, beautiful and natural. The resemblance was obvious. The pair looked stoic but the woman had a sparkle in her eye and a part of me wondered if Nevaeh used to have that same look...before her parents were taken from her.

The stairway at the end of the hall widened out to curve down into a large, elegant entryway of buffed wood and a sitting room off to the right. I assumed James didn't sleep on the Victorian-esque designed loveseat, so I continued. I wasn't quite sure when my exploration became a quest to find his room, but now that it had started, I wasn't about to give up and deny my curiosity.

I followed the large first-level hall towards the back of the massive mansion searching for a more promising room. The end of the hall opened into a kitchen on the left and a media room on the right, complete with an obscenely large flat-screen mounted on the far wall. The kitchen was all shining chrome, polished granite, and touch screens. It was beautifully high-tech, even though I assumed it didn't get near the use it deserved. I couldn't picture any of the Clan cooking and even the thought of Nevaeh peeling potatoes or stirring a soup made me smile. James seemed too cocky to cook, too arrogant to do something so mundane. And Kael almost seemed too large to look proportionate in the kitchen, no matter how grand it was. Though if he did ever host an alt-styled cooking show, I'm sure it would be a hit. I know I would certainly watch it.

The entire back wall of the kitchen and media room that faced the backyard was made of glass, showing a remarkable view of the massive metal gates in the southwest corner of the yard, with the forest close behind, my forest, which was apparently actually their forest. The woods were immense, allowing the mansion to practically be in a different area code than my apartment had been. The glass wall faced west and I absently wondered how beautiful the sunsets were from out of the windowed wall.

I turned back to the hallway and checked a couple of doors. No living quarters. I went to the only door on the right wall of the hall where Kael had told me the basement was during his brief house tour. The door was built into the dark paneled walls and blended in seamlessly. If Kael hadn't brought it to my attention I might have missed it. I fumbled for a moment, my fingers searching for a way to open the confounding passage. Finally, I found a small latch that pulled up along the center woodwork and the door silently swung open.

I was surprised by the view, stone steps that looked ancient, smoothly sloped down before curving away into shadows. The walls were a dark, glossy rock that seemed to absorb light and were cool to the touch. There were stout overhead lights that shed a dull yellow glow on the stairway. I glanced back towards the brightly lit kitchen and then towards the entryway before I stepped down into its gaping stone mouth, closing the door behind me with a quiet click.

It was cool and quiet in the stairwell and I could hear my footsteps reverberating down below, bouncing and echoing back like someone else was there with me. The stairs seemed to go on for far too long, gradually spiraling downwards, but I might have just been feeling uneasy because of the silence and lack of natural light. I felt buried alive. I had never liked being underground, the air was too still, trapped.

The end of the stairs led out to a small landing. I slowed as I saw that the lights were off and the room past the landing's weak light was plunged into total darkness. I stood at the edge of the light for a moment before stepping into the inky shadow, the feeling was welcomed. There was almost a slight pressure on my skin like the darkness held some small weight. It was calming to be under its protective wing, in its shade.

I had always felt safest in the dark, but now I understood why. I was drawn to darkness because I was from darkness, just like my parents, just like their parents. I always thought there was something dark in me, that I was somehow wrong. Now I had proof. It was in my blood. I had the blood of an Angel, perfect in every way, who had been thrown from Heaven, broken in every way and now vile and cruel to the depths of its soulless being. That's what I was from, that's what I was...

Oddly enough, it didn't upset me, or even surprise me, though it's possible my lifelong fortified apathy could have underwhelmed any origin explanation. It seemed close to how I imagined someone diagnosed with a terminal illness must feel, the outcome may not be what they had hoped for, but at least they had an answer, a name, an explanation. That's how I felt; at least I knew what I was, anything else I could handle.

For the first time in a long time, I thought of my parents. I wondered what they had been like. Were they together? Were they both Darklings or just one? Did the one know what the other was or had it just been a meaningless night with a seductive stranger? Were my parents bad, the evil creatures Nev and James had made them out to be? Or had they been good? Had they overcome their nature, if that was even possible for Fourths? If they even were Fourths. Maybe they were both Darklings and therefore wouldn't have to be Fourths at all, that would make sense I assumed, though I didn't really understand how percentages were passed down if both parents were from Fallen. I had never paid much attention in Biology.

If they had been good, why did they leave me? Did they have a Clan? A family? Or if they had been bad, what were they doing now? Were they even still alive?

A cold thought hit me like a wall, sending a bolt of shock down my spine. What if James and his Clan had killed them? If they were evil and he had ever come across them in his presumably violent past, he wouldn't have hesitated. Worse, what if the Clan hadn't met them yet? What if they killed them while I was with them? What if I had to kill them?

I had never felt connected to my biological parents. I hadn't been lying when I told James I didn't have any problem or the stereotypical angst associated with being unwanted, but I honestly wondered if I could kill my birth parents, even if they were dark. Would I recognize them, somehow know that they were a part of me? I was curious to see if I was as capable of all the horrors I'd always imagined I was. Could I kill people, Demons, Fallen? Probably. But my parents? I guess I'd just have to wait and see, if I ever even met them, if they were even still around, or alive.

As I stood in the still blackness, pondering my propensity for patricide, my eyes had adjusted to the dark. The room materialized before me and I was shocked by its size. As big as a warehouse but set up like a gymnasium. There were weights and punching bags of all shapes and sizes on one half of the massive room, but the other side was completely bare. The high ceiling explained why the stairs had seemed to descend forever. There were thick wooden beams crossing the width of the room high overhead but besides that, the far side of the room was utterly featureless.

Three doors scattered the perimeter, and as my night vision heightened I saw a set of light switches on the wall to my right. I flipped one and a slight hum filled the air as the industrial bulbs started booting up. I tried the first door and found an equipment room, full to the brim with every kind of training weapon, weight equipment, and safety prop imaginable. There were wooden poles of varying heights, both blunted and speared, flattened as well as sharp arrows. Many weapons looked medieval and even more that I had never seen before; twists of wood, shards of metal, and a whole floor-to-ceiling case of vials filled with powders and liquids in milky, clouded colors.

There were numerous bins along one wall that each held small balls, like smooth grenades, of varying sizes and curves. There were markings on the bins, but they didn't make sense to me, just tickling the edges of my thoughts, teasing my mind, and giving me a headache.

The room was overly-organized, every weapon and mat had its own box, holder, or obsessively neat pile. It reminded me of the painstaking measures I took to organize my store, though I had done that out of boredom, while whoever did this seemed to have done it out of care. Clearly, someone spent a lot of time down here. I stepped back and closed the door with a clang that echoed through the large room, bouncing off the walls and rumbling through my chest.

The second door was on the opposite wall. My footsteps sounded small in the enormous room as I walked across. I reached the door and grabbed the handle, the metal was surprisingly warm, like coins that have been in your hand for too long. I twisted the too-warm knob and pushed.

The door swung open with some resistance. It was heavy, a thick wood that seemed unnecessary, like a barricade. I peered in and felt a jolt of elation. I had found James' bedroom.

Lair or sanctuary was probably a better word for the space than 'bedroom'. The room was dimly lit, allowing shadows to gather in the corners. It was warm, very warm, a dry heat and almost immediately my skin felt hot. There was a smoldering fireplace in the center of the right wall, which had been left unattended. A large four-post bed was centered on the wall opposite the fire. The room smelled sweet and smoky, like the woods at night. There was the slight trace of pine as well. It matched James' scent perfectly.

I made to step into the room, instead of peering in from the other side of his threshold, but hesitated a second, my foot hovering just over the hardwood floor. I cautiously touched the tip of my big toe to the ground and froze, expecting alarms and sirens to blare, announcing my intrusion. My eyes scanned the room for any disturbance and I realized my ears were straining to hear if anything had changed, but all I heard was the fire contentedly crackling. I flattened my foot and slowly moved into the room, allowing the door to shut behind me as I scanned the space more thoroughly from left to right.

The wall on my left had a small table made of dark, polished wood that matched the bed, it had a lamp on it, along with a black book and pen. There was a dark burgundy bedspread, the color of dried blood, smoothly pulled up over dark sheets, which just barely hung below the bedspread and showed from the sides. The walls were floor to ceiling paneled in the same dark wood as the bed frame. No windows, obviously.

The whole room was brown-black wood with points of dark crimson and various shades of gray. It appealed to me. The room wasn't small and it was divided into the obvious sleeping quarters on the left and what looked like a sitting area near the fireplace. A sleek computer was set up on a tidy desk next to the door. Nothing personal or intimate was on any of the shelves or tables, no pictures, no mementos, only necessities and practical items. Even with the lack of personal touches, the room still held the strong essence of James, maybe because of the lack of personal touches.

There was a large built-in bookshelf covering most of the far wall and it was packed with row upon row of books. The area in front of the fire had a large rug underfoot, the hardwood floor reappearing near the bed. The sole source of light, the fire, made everything look sinister, with shadows jumping as the dying flames rose and fell, flipping over one another.

Even with the ghostly shadows running along the walls and floorboards something about the smell and warmth of the room seemed oddly inviting to me like I really was in a sanctuary. It was certainly not a sanctuary for the holy, but then again, I was far from holy. I suddenly felt like I was trespassing somewhere private, like I had broken into someone's dream. A flash of the unseen presence from my daydream at work flew through my mind, but it felt like a decade ago now. I shook the memory away.

Cautiously, I walked to the bookcase and checked the binding's titles on the top shelf just above eye level. I was surprised by a number of poetry books I recognized; Cummings, Poe, Rimbaud, Pound, Blake, Brown. I had never pegged James as the artsy type. He seemed more of the infuriatingly-arrogant-type, which in my experience with men meant he was either covering up a small intellect, or a small something-else.

There were also numerous books that mentioned Hell, Demons, curses, Angels, or dark myths in their titles. So he was keeping up on his research. I wondered how many of these books held truth and how many James silently laughed at as he read them, with his mocking little smile that didn't show his teeth pulling up one corner of his mouth.

The shelf beneath was full of strange heavy-looking books whose titles were indecipherable, like the symbols on the bins in the equipment room. They gave me a headache the more I looked at them, making my eyes swim. Further down the shelf, there were ancient philosophers' and poets' works along with some classics, Dante's Inferno and Paradise Lost jumped out at me as ones I had read. The bottom shelf ended near my knees, I crouched down and saw a series of thin, black, leather books, like the one on the nightstand. They looked like journals, and there were a lot of them.

I wondered if they were all James', I couldn't quite picture him journaling, pouring his thoughts and emotions onto a page. Of course, I guess it would make sense, a page can't tell your secrets, can't betray you...unless the wrong person got their hands on it. A person like me.

I was debating just how bad it would be to take one out, weighing the possibility that he would somehow know versus what knowledge and juicy secrets they may hold when I heard a low voice politely clear itself from behind me.

I spun around, trying to erase the culpable look from my face. And there he stood, leaning in the doorframe, his posture relaxed but attentive with a look of amusement painted on, like he found my snooping comical. He must have been blocking me since I hadn't felt him there, my 'Gift' seemed to tell me I was still alone in the room.

"Lost again?" He asked smoothly, his easy, one-sided smile pulling up at the edge of his mouth, a look of delight played hidden in his eyes.

I made a quick decision to go the bold route since I'd already been caught.

"Just exploring, I figured I had to find my own answers. You aren't exactly very forthcoming." I flashed him an unapologetic smile.

"Well, you never asked." He said in an injured tone to match as he sauntered into his room. "I would have gladly told you every last detail of my life if you had merely spoken the words, dear little lamb." His eyes glittered with mischief as he clearly mocked me.

"I prefer to learn by doing." I smiled back at him, picking up one of the black books and seating myself in the chair farthest from the fire. I was beginning to feel uncomfortably warm.

James looked like he had had a rough trek into the city, he had mud splattered up his jeans and his hair looked disheveled and damp, there was a little grime on the side of his neck and his hands were dirty as well. Maybe it was raining out...and he had been digging? I hadn't been outside all day to smell the air or notice if rain was on its way and the thought made me suddenly feel claustrophobic.

I spent a lot of time outdoors usually, it was one of my many defense mechanisms against going crazy, against hating my life too much. Nature had always seemed magical to me, even before I knew magic really existed.

Sometimes the way moonlight hit a tree, or a creek shimmered as it ran down its path could look even more surreal than scenes from movies, or my own daydreams. But I had been so focused on getting situated the last few days, so mentally exhausted from all that I had learned, so caught up in trying to understand what the hell was happening around me, I had completely forgotten to even go for a short walk to catch fresh air and unwind. I started to plan when I could possibly slip away and go out into the woods when I noticed James watching me.

He studied me for a long moment, the playfulness that had danced behind his eyes slowly replaced by a thoughtful look. He looked like he was debating saying something. Finally, after another beat of silence, he spoke.

"You live inside your head too much. It will get you killed." He spoke like he was stating a fact, no threat, just blunt honesty.

"Wow, what an optimist."

He shrugged, but stayed silent, so I continued.

"Inside my head has always been there for me, what else in this world can you say that about? I can do anything in my mind, live any way I want, do anything I want - and as long as I keep it in there, it doesn't actually hurt anyone. Besides, don't you think it would be a little foolish of me to open up to you all so soon after we've met?"

I spoke truthfully. Something about talking to James in private made me want to be honest. Maybe because I knew he would somehow be able to tell if I lied.

"I'm not the type to let people in quickly. I thought you would understand that. My mind is like your books," I added as I lifted the black book I still held, "but people can't walk into my room and take my mind."

"We've let you in, we've opened up our home to you, our haven. We're willing. I wonder if you are, if you'll ever be."

Again, he sounded like he was simply stating facts, no emotion inflecting his voice, almost to an inhuman extent. I looked back for a moment, wishing I knew what he was thinking, and for one of the few times in my life, getting nothing, no inkling of thoughts, no whisper in my head. I realized I wasn't good at reading people at all, not really, only my Gift gave me any insight into others. I pulled myself back to the conversation at hand.

"Technically, yes, you've given me a room, allowed me to stay here, told me little crumbs, but I still know next to nothing about you. Any of you. Wouldn't you be wary of people who turn your world upside down one night and then follow up by telling you nothing, telling you to wait around for a week, twiddling your thumbs? Especially since you all know each other already. I'm the outsider, I have a reason to be guarded, to doubt your intentions. I have something to prove, though I don't even know what that is since you haven't told me yet."

I placed an icy glare on him, dropping all pretense of nonchalant chatting. The more I said about my frustrations, the more the feelings grew in me until now I was at the edge of truly being angry. His stony, calm demeanor didn't help. His control just highlighting my lack of it.

He ignored my glare and spoke in a low, cautionary tone.

"Would you really like to know more? Once you learn these things about yourself, you can't return. Once you come with us, there's no going back. Your old life will slip away. You'll be changed, completely, and maybe not for the better. This isn't some hero story, a fairytale or fantasy - it's war. You're untrained, undisciplined, nearly helpless. And you're most likely signing up for your death."

He paused for a moment to take a long breath, and though his words sounded harsh, his tone was not.

"This life isn't an easy one; we die young, we constantly have to recognize that any day might be our last, we endure more in a year than Humans do in their entire lives. We lose those we care about, and often we lose ourselves too. There is no rest, no peace, no escape. This is not an attractive life, there's nothing desirable about being a warrior. Nothing glamorous about living your entire life protecting Heaven's interests and still burning when you die. We get no reward, we get no thanks, we only fight, bleed, die and burn. Pulvis et umbra sumus."

He finished in a quiet voice, leaving my gaze to look across the room towards the fire.

"That's why we give the week, there's no use in us spilling our secrets if you're just going to run back to who you were."

His eyes slowly returned to mine and bored into me with an intensity I hadn't known could exist in such a beautiful way. I dropped mine to the floor quickly, meeting his eyes seemed too intimate.

"I have nothing to run back to," I said before I even realized the words had slipped out. I looked up at James, hoping by some miracle he hadn't heard my weakness show through.

He was still looking at me with his head slightly tilted to one side, a complex mix of emotions warring in his eyes; curiosity, surprise, interest, regret, understanding, and deep in his stare, underneath all else, something wanting and lost and broken. We looked at each other for a moment longer before he slowly shook his head and moved his gaze to the book in my lap.

Immediately, a clever smile played with the corners of his lips and the moment passed.

"Are you still planning on reading through my journal? How very invasive." He made a point to sound teasingly reprimanding.

"That sounds like a challenge, Lion. First thing you should know about me, since I'm letting you in and all, is to never challenge me. Dares, bets, anything of the sort. I can't stand backing down - and I rarely lose."

I gave a flourish as I made to open the book, pausing to look over the top of it at him deviously before I flipped it open, staring down at the paper. The entire sheet held small, heavy handwriting, beautiful in an artistic way I hadn't been expecting. It wasn't English or any other alphabet I recognized and it took me a moment to realize that the page was filled with the same markings and symbols I had seen on his bookshelf and in the equipment room.

I gave an exaggerated sigh of dissatisfaction and looked up in mock annoyance. James looked as if he had barely been containing his laughter as he waited for me to notice his trick. He tilted his head back and gave a bark of laughter, almost happy, but not quite, more mischief than true joy. When our eyes met, his sparkled with wayward enjoyment again.

"You must have been an exhausting child." I chided tiredly as if my conversation with him had drained me.

He gave the closest thing to a real smile I had seen from him yet, not quite reaching his eyes, but at least the mouth was convincing, a sliver of straight, white teeth making a rare, fleeting appearance.

"I had my moments, mainly from my terrible twos until early adulthood..."

"Oh, so this is you all grown up and subdued?" I acted as if I was having a revelation.

"Well of course, can't you see my maturity shining through in everything I do?" His humor and quick reply made me crack a smile too despite myself, it was infectious.

I walked over to where he stood and pushed the book into his chest.

"Let me know the next time you're out so I can nose around some more, you cut me short."

He leaned back on the wall again as I held the book to him, as relaxed as if he was lounging on a bed. My eyes flicked to his bed on reflex and just as quickly his gaze followed mine, settling on the object I had glanced to. I saw a spark of something cross his eyes, but it was gone so fast I couldn't tell what it was.

I made it the rest of the way past him and began walking across the gym towards the stairs. I had gotten used to how warm his room had been and now goosebumps ran up my arms.

Halfway across the floor, I heard him call out in a slightly bemused tone.

"Did you call me Lion?"

I only half-turned.

"Well, you seem to be an endless fountain of names for me, it seemed about time that I gave you one as well. Goodnight, Lion."

I was almost to the stairs when the electricity hit me like a sheet of warm rain, causing a shiver of pleasure to run up my spine.

Your training starts tomorrow. Get plenty of rest. Goodnight, little Lamb.

Loving their interactions? Well, enjoy those warm and fuzzies while they last o.o

And the song, THE SONG! I love Hollywood Undead, and when I heard this particular piece I knew right away it was purrrfect for this chapter.

Plus, my best friend in the US introduced me to Hollywood Undead years ago, and she's a lion if I ever knew one, so this chapter is for her - C Champion <3