Ok, I've only just been introduced to this erotica and feel in love, not to mention I was inspired for this story just after t

Ok, I've only just been introduced to this erotica and feel in love, not to mention I was inspired for this story just after the first chapter, not even. I'm going to try to keep this in Gene Showalter's context…merely only expanding it and adding who I hope you'll find an interesting character… me no own, all cred goes to her So yea…enjoy…

Chapter 1- Expected Encounters

Delayed. She had to have heard wrong but as they repeated the announcement over the speaker, her suspicions were confirmed. Her heart sank into her stomach and settled there. "Flight 780 from Budapest to Seattle, California return for the Medical Convention, will be delayed until tomorrow."

Shit…now what? Five year old Mah-ron scowled and inspected her open palm, there were rivets of skin, slightly puckered but not too noticeable, still she slide her fingerless gloves over them again and grabbed her purse. Bathroom, bathroom, where's the bathroom? She walked up to a stern, non-helpful looking woman at the desk. The kind of woman who had a red beehive planted side-ways on her head and rouge lipstick to match, making her skin look pale and haggard. Mah-ron grimaced but cleared her throat. "Excuse me, whe-"

The woman's head snapped up from her computer, her grimace mirroring Mah-ron's, expect for the marred lipstick on her teeth. She covered the speaker that hung by her lips with inky black nails and sneered. "Down the hall to the left. Can't you read the sign?"

Mah-ron's eyes clouded over instantly, she put her hand on the counter, drawing the woman's attention back to her. Disgust lined both of their features. Mah-ron hissed, voice icy and dripping with disdain. "Lady, you're already unattractive enough, if I were you, I'd fix my attitude or quit…wassa mattah', not getting enough at home?"

She grinned as the woman blanched. God, how she loved that reaction in people. "Bitch, you-"

Mah-ron cut her off, gloved hand in the air, her regal movement instantly silencing the woman. "No names now, I'm paying your mortgage so you'd best be wary…."

The woman fixed her with a hard glance. "Go cut yourself…." Mah-ron walked away. If only she knew… She held that bag tighter under her arm. She stopped as she noticed an elevator; it's shiny metal doors calling to her vanity. She paused, looked at the petite reflection in the metal and scowled. She wore her nurse's uniform, it wasn't flattering but she didn't care, she liked her baggy clothes, they hid her, made her invisible. But the doors opened and the people within gave her strange looks, staring at the dazed girl in their way. She snapped to attention and opened the first door she found, wanting to get out of sight. Thankfully, it was the bathroom.

Mah-ron sighed and slumped against the door, sliding down it a bit, then she looked at the small bag in her possession. She gingerly pulled out a syringe and a vial of white-clear liquid, kept cool in an ice pack. Turning it upside down, she drew in twenty units and grinned to herself. The door jostled and she grunted in pain. An elderly woman looked down at her. "Excuse me…" She then noticed the needle. Mah-ron did nothing to hide it, but she did stand and put her things on the sink. "Diabetic?"

Mah-ron put on a sheepish mask and nodded slowly. "Yes, I am…and I had quite a lunch so I must…" She lied. Something in her purred in approval. Don't let anyone close my sweet…

The woman entered, bent with aged, nodded. She had a sweet face, and understanding washed over her features. She petted Mah-ron head. "Take care of yourself, dear…" Mah-ron nodded again silent, hoping the woman's fingers didn't catch in her hair. If I'm lucky enough, I will…. Another voice prompted her. Don't trust…old or no…. Then hers. I know that…learned a long time ago…

The woman came and left. Mah-ron waited, impatiently. As soon as she did though the needle was in her arm, cool insulin rushing through her. Hurry up, hurry up…I want the darkness now… She called the unconsciousness that almost a coma-like thrill she got when she'd fainted from the lack of glucose in her system. She had taken these things from the hospital she worked in. Counted them as charity so they wouldn't be missed. This is charity, just to me is all…

It never could come fast enough for her. She then scowled that that thought and packed her things, returning to the outside. She hated hotels, hated when people touched her things and took from her that was not owed them that she didn't want them to have. She would stay elsewhere. Had to.

She sat outside while she waited for her cab, things askew around her. She had so much, she trusted not to leave anything of importance at home, well, what was left of her home. Thing was, a lot of things were important. She scoffed. Things…not people…. She then noticed a man watching her. She ignored him, her fingers drumming on her knee, a nervous habit of hers. He was grubby, wearing mis-matched clothes. A beggar, nothing more. A filch. But the insulin started to kick in now. How long had it been? Didn't matter. That was a good enough dose, heady even.

Her head swam a bit and she felt dizzy, colors floated into her vision as she winked, not willing them away. The man noticed and approached. He touched her shoulder. "You ok, kid? You look funny..."

At his gentlest touch she flinched away as if she'd been burned. Human contact, it had been denied her from an early age and now she all but feared it. "I'm! Fine!"

He jerked backwards, hands up in defense. "Jeez, sorry I asked…" He left her and she scowled, the cab finally came and she rode in the back in silence. She watched as Budapest flashed by her darkened window. She saw nothing; she was beginning to drift off when she was addressed.

"Ma'am!" She jolted upright and looked around dazed. The driver caught her attention. He was young, like her and working. Was the world really that cruel? "I took you to the Danube River, where's my money?" His voice was softer now, as if he was sorry to end her slumber and her company with him.

"Oh, I'm sorry…" She paid him and he helped her with her luggage. He wondered why she hadn't asked for a hotel. Maybe she was meeting someone here? He looked her over again. Not too much liking the clothes but imagining her without them, he groaned, petite, curves tantalizing, tempting, calling, sweetness between the thighs.

She noticed his look and he straightened. "Will that be all, ma'am?" He tried to hide his growing erection with his hands and he smiled at her. Her gaze however, was cold and slid over him with malice. He instantly backed away. Without waiting for a reply, he bolted into his car and drove off.

Mah-ron then relaxed, never fully, she felt for her purse, only to realize it was gone. "When…" Then she growled, a menacing guttural sound coming from a mere a human girl. The man at the airport had robbed her, and now she was stranded. Tension and low blood sugar claimed her and she fainted, falling onto her luggage.

--

Lucien's head snapped to attention. The echo of the cue ball hitting the eight was deafening to him. "I have to go..." He told the others, they blinked and he was gone. He found himself instead hovering over a girl, seemingly sixteen years of age, but her face looked thinner, older, more pained than quite possibly even Reyes, scarred as the man was. He rubbed the scars on his chin, a habit of his and scooped her up.

This girl was not dying, so why was he drawn to her? He sniffed. Not now, but soon. He growled. Not the best place for her to die, he felt sympathy well up in his throat. He would bring her home. Maddox had already broken the rule of bringing humans into the fortress. Even though Ashlyn had proven her worth, earned her place. As had he, when Danika and her family had been in Aeron's way, still were, but they had long fled. Did that rule even stand anymore?

He would find out. Getting a person to carry her things was easy, the people of Budapest would do anything for the angels that lived atop the hill. How little the mortals knew, how easy it was to deceive and misunderstand. Even after what had happened last month didn't completely destroy that for them. Lucien sighed and flashed back to the fortress as soon as the man was out of sight. The room instantly silenced.

But as soon as it began, it ended. The calm before the storm now gone, explosions filled it's void. "What is she doing here?!"

"Not again, haven't you learned!?"

"I'm so not dealing with this shit…"

"Can I have her?! Please?! I haven't had my Vitamin D today…" Another voice whined.

"Shut up, Paris."

Lucien had had enough. A lot had happened in the last month and he could feel the strain on him again. Aeron was still in the dungeon and that weighed on him to have to do that to his dear friend. He suddenly snarled but managed to keep the rest of his urges in check. "Enough! She won't stay long, she's dying…I just didn't want her to die by the Danube river alone." His voice grew quiet, sympathetic and the others backed off. There was a disappointed groan then a sound smack.

"Ouch! That hurts." There was a whine in the man's voice and Mah-ron turned, inhaling deeply from Lucien, the scent of flowers, roses, overtook her and she coughed and pushed away with the little strength she had. Lucien, perplexed raised an eyebrow.

Paris looked over, pain forgotten and chuckled. "She doesn't like you, or she's not ready to leave yet…. either way, you can put her in my room." His voice was hopeful. His eyes scanned the petite beauty.

Lucien held tight to her and just then, the bell rang. His head snapped in that direction. "Reyes, get her things and bring them to the west wing, I'm putting her in the empty room by the Entertainment Room where she can be watched. I won't tolerate-"

"Damn she has a lot of stuff!" Reyes lugged bag after bag in. "Someone help me with this…" Wanting to be helpful, Sabin got up and walked over. Reyes tensed for a moment before allowing the man to help. They were on opposite sides, but the truce they held was delicate, breakable, if it held if only on someone's morals or temper.

"Wow, she does…" He spoke, amazed. He looked down at the leopard printed bags and curious, opened one, a bunch of disks fell out, a DVD camcorder and some underwear. Paris instantly growled, in deep desire.

"MY ROOM PLEASE!?" Another smack echoed in the room and Lucien walked down the hall before he had to start yelling. He would not lose control again. He couldn't afford it. Bad things happened when he did.

He stopped, however and spun on his heel, Mah-ron's head lolled to the side and exposed her neck. "You know you're to go to town for your needs, she's off limits…" He scanned the room again, eyes lingering on the unwelcome visitors of his. "She is not to be harmed and is to be respected when she wakes, if she wakes…." For Death to be unsure was truly something, they others watched, silent, baffled.

His voice had an odd tint of confusion in it. "And she is only to be spoken to at minimum, her things not to be touched, PARIS!" The pale man froze, blue eyes sparking with discontent, he tucked the underwear back into place but Promiscuity growled at him, echoing in his head. Steal them, she won't notice…or maybe she'll try to get them back from you….

Lucien's face spoke otherwise and he sighed and slunk away. Without another word, Lucien carted the unconscious girl upstairs, set her in the Entertainment Room while he prepared the room for her. Why am I doing this?

A blonde man with angelic features walked by the door, paused and then peeked in. His vision slipped to the other side of the hall where the scent of spiced peaches floated over to him. He raised a delicate eyebrow. He had missed much since his injury and had been kept busy with his stocks and things, keeping them well supplied despite the fact of the new 'guests.' Now he walked into the Entertainment Room and peered at the woman on the couch. She was young, pale for someone of caramel/olive skin. "Lucien?" He asked, confusion evident.

Death looked up and sighed. He pitied Torin. And hopefully, Mah-ron wouldn't trigger anything carnal in him. Doing so would be unnecessary torture to the man. He could not touch a living thing skin to skin, without infecting. Hell. As was all their lives. "She's dying, won't stay long….want to help me?" Torin began to shake his head before Lucien quickly added. "With her things. Put them away? This is embarrassing to say but…I don't know how long she'll last…" At that, Torin froze, spun to his friend. But the man merely laid the girl on the bed, tucked her in and studied her face. He brushed the raven hair from her fevered brow. Torin's heart ached terribly. How he wished he could do that. Without causing harm, without consequence. Just once and he'd be sated forever.

He quickly banished the thought and making sure his gloves were snuggly on, rummaged through the girl's things. He put her clothes away, which didn't take long, she had very few of them, and most looked too small. Torin tried not to linger on that thought. He noticed a school uniform and put it on the chair next to the bed. He stared at it trying to remember if it was a Hungarian school, nothing rang a bell so it must not be. "American?"

Lucien nodded and noticed a thin seamed wallet stick out from her pocket. Mah-ron, trusting no one had always carried around two, the stupid thing was she always put the more important stuff in harm's way. Lucien gingerly took it and unfolded it. "'Mah-ron Jade Stiva…'" He read, aloud and paused. "'Age…five?'" He looked at the girl again. Surely, she looked at least sixteen. He looked back at the date then relaxed. "Leap-year…Feb. 29, 1992…College student?" The word even caught Torin's attention; he looked at the girl again. Of all the things he knew of humans, he at least knew college students to be a few years older than this perplexing little girl before him.

But Lucien tore that in half when he held out her student ID card. 'Year two, Lincoln Merit College, Birmingham, Alabama. Medical Intern.' "So…she's smart?"

"Really? I haven't noticed…how ever did you figure that out, detective?" Torin grinned wide, always humor with him. He then read the rest of her card. No more information save the fact she was a donor. He blinked at the picture. The girl was smiling, wide brown eyes glittering in the camera, hair straight, neat, in a headband, perfect teeth. Fake. He made a face. Why did humans do that? He could see clearly that she wore a mask. Torin knew, that the girl in the picture and the one on the bed were not one and the same.

Stirring caught their attention, but Mah-ron merely turned on her side, face strewn with hair. She moaned softly, in a stupor. Lucien replaced her wallet and looked at her things, the ones Torin had set out. Disks, the DVD camcorder, covered in purple marker and stickers, books, most written in and quite a few things Pairs would be interested in. He glimpsed nervously at Torin, whose gaze was elsewhere, his jaw tight.

Lucien was about to tell him to leave when the man picked up a few disks and the camcorder. "Can't have this around her. She can't find out our secret, let alone let proof of us escape should she choose to do so. In the meantime, let me see what I can learn from her." Lucien merely nodded to his friend's retreating back and sighed. What was he going to do?

Mah-ron coughed again and sat up. Her head spun and she groped mindlessly for her bag, where she kept an abundance of sugary foods. Now that the blackness had receded she wanted the high of the coma this time, and taking insulin gave her the option of high and low. But her body was beyond spent, beyond exhausted, she fell back on the comforters again with a light thump. Darkness claimed her yet again. And she welcomed it.

Lucien noticed and slipped from the room. But not before he saw a bag with a syringe. Without a word, he took it and closed the door behind him. He heard a light click as he locked it and rummaged through the content. Human Insulin 70/30. A blood-testing meter with strips and five syringes tied with a hair scrunchie. A small book with scrawled handwriting of doses and times, a list of food eaten.

That girl felt too skinny to have eaten all of this…is she truly sick? And this human medicine….He surveyed the list to be sure but his thoughts were interrupted by his friend down the hall. "LUCIEN! GET IN HERE NOW!" Lucien bolted, to comply, his angelic friend, never at all so forceful. He had to know why.

He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the room, the heat. All the monitors were on, as it was Torin's duty, not only to handle stocks and money but also to keep surveillance over the little slice of home they had cut themselves, cursed as they were. He blinked, once, twice. Torin sat frozen in the leather chair, watching the DVD, it was a video diary. Lucien leaned over his comrade, careful not to touch him and peered into the screen. A slightly younger Mah-ron grinned at them. The image bounced and they realized she was on a bus; the focus swiveled to a Caucasian girl with glasses and dark make-up, who put her hand up to the camera. "No! Come on, you know I hate those!"

There was a curt, pained laugh from the other side of the camera, seemingly forced as if to show the owner's normalcy, right to fit in. "One day I'll bring a small one and you won't be able to tell, you'll confess your heart to it…"

The glasses girl took the camera and focused it on Mah-ron instead. "You do that, but in the meantime, this is about you, it's your last year here in high school, you're leaving me…"

The caramel girl's face changed. An instant seductive pout and Torin's hand tightened on the handle of the chair. Those full red lips calling, as were the black-rimmed powdered eyes. They screamed, 'Comfort me! Touch me!' Mah-ron's hair was curled this time and she wore a puffy shirt that let a bit of cleavage show. Her arms crossed, making it much easier to see. "I didn't say I wanted too…but it's time. I don't like staying in one place forever, I told you that when I met you. You still said I was your best friend." Her voice was melancholy, she couldn't hide it. Lucien squirmed. She sounded almost like Misery, poor Cameo. Focus. "And I got a full scholarship after all, how can I turn that down?"

Silence was on the other side of the camera and Mah-ron smirked, it looked almost unnatural on her face, as if, she would have to practice to be truly convincing. She didn't sit properly in the bus seat, in fact, she sat high up, elbows on the top of the seat's back and her legs pushed out in front, spread, seemingly bracing so she didn't fall should the bus try to jostle her. Thank the gods she's wearing pants…Torin thought to himself. And yet, he could not look away. Mah-ron's attention was averted for a moment. Her silence was as deafening, as painful as her words. Then she spoke again. "I'm not coming back. I never return to a place I've been to. I haven't been in New York since…. gah, has it really been seven years?" At this, she ran her drawn on hand through her locks, the action making her hair fuller, more voluptuous as it fell back down to her waist again. She looked vixenish, a goddess.

Still silence on the other end. Lucien looked down at Torin, whose eyes seemed glued to the screen but he could see lines of strain on his pale face. Lucien reached out to turn the screen off but Torin shook his head. He then noticed something odd. The girl wore kneepads over the black pants, skin-tight and riding her every curve. He shuddered and raised an eyebrow. As if sensing him watching, Mah-ron snapped one of the garters of a kneepad, she snapped it again, winced. Again. "She's like Reyes…." He spoke, amazed. He focused on her hands. She wore fingerless gloves. Even more curious still.

All of a sudden the bus bucked, obviously hitting a bump and Mah-ron flew leftward, smashing her head on the glass. She made a slight face, yet not a sound escaped her lips. But the glass buckled, broken veins spreading out. "ARE YOU OK?!" Her friend wailed. The event even made Lucien's eyes widen. Why didn't she at least yelp?

Mah-ron blinked. Her attention focused on the camera again an she sat, exactly how she had before, except now her hands gripped the fabric of the bus seat, her knuckles whitened and her nails looked as if they could pierce steel. "You know I'm hard-headed…and clumsy. It'll take more than that…" Her voice hinted at something that made Torin lean closer. As if, if he did, she would tell him. But she didn't.

The camera went up and then down, her companion having shrugged. "So Ms. High-honors-gotta-skip-grades-and-leave-me, now what do want to say?" Mah-ron's attention jerked. Her eyebrow raised, eyes lost, an earbud in her ear. When had she put that there? Lucien wondered. She shrugged herself and started mouthing the words to the song she was obviously listening to. Her actions changed, as did her attitude. Her movements were fluid, one slipping into the next, body rolling, she danced in her seat, breasts jumping, tempting to be touched, hair swishing side to side fanning an obvious fire and she leaned into the camera, yelling profanities when- the screen went blank. Lucien blinked, making sure it wasn't his eyes. He looked down to see Torin's finger on the button, but his hands quickly switched the disks, hands shaking, lips a thin line, a bulge in his pants.

Lucien blinked, guilt riding him without mercy. He had brought the girl, who had brought her history. "Perhaps you shouldn't-"

Torin held up a black-gloved hand. "We have to watch each one, we don't know her….this could be complete bullshit. She could be Bait…" Then he blanched, if possible, pale as he was. No, Death would not have been drawn to Bait, unless she was poisoned in some way, in just the right dose. He turned the screen on again, eyes focused, serious, straining to do the necessary, wanting to indulge, knowing the consequence of doing so. What a strange mixture of feelings….

The scene was different now. A young girl's room, pink walls, which were covered with an array of posters, of movies, ripped pages from a magazine, mostly females. It seemed bare in a way. The focus was on a bed, by wide double-doors, which led to a balcony. The balcony overlooked water. It was early morning. The form on the bed stirred. The doll-like girl stood yawned, stretched. She slid her tiny but quite round legs over the edge of the bed and opened the large doors, the handles of which were by her chest, so dwarfed was she by seemingly everything. Mah-ron opened the glass doors and cold air washed into the room, posters fluttered in the breeze and Mah-ron let out a sweet perfect squeal of delight as it caressed over her skin. Torin's hand tightened on the volume dial. Lucien wished he would stop torturing himself.

Mah-ron, who looked much similar to what she did now, waltzed up to the camera, hips swishing, almost cat-like. "Hello me!" She smiled, wide, inviting, as if saying, 'Complete me... Fill me! Please!' She wore nothing but a black lace bra and panties set. The panties seemed barely covering and the bra only extenuated her breasts, not hiding them from view. Her hair was perfectly tussled. "Morning!" She greeted again, obviously cheerful. She blinked, as if surprised by this fact even herself. "Wow, I must feel good today…." Still, her hand went through her hair again, bent to put her face in the camera's view. No make-up this time, pure, as pure as a tainted person could be, her tongue ran across her lips, giving them a wet sheen. Torin's cock jerked at the motion, still he couldn't look away. "That's new….oh! Dreams, forgot…" She rolled her eyes at herself. "Um…" Her fingers twisted in her hair now, and her free arm ran under her chest, as if to relieve her of the weight. Torin gulped, even stoic Lucien had to take a step back from the screen. But he showed no other reaction.

"Oh yea! No nightmares this time. Think I might have dreamt of Jacob, I feel kind of….lonely." Torin instantly scowled and Lucien was surprised by the action. As if to extenuate the feeling the arm under her chest straightened, fingers sliding down her flat stomach and over the fabric of her panties. Lucien stiffened, eyes glimpsing at Torin, who was motionless, save in his pants. Mah-ron's thumb hooked in the fabric and her fingers curled between her thighs, the tips brushed against her and she shuddered, purred, in a most riveting way. "Hmmm…wet. Yup, definitely a good dream…" Without warning, she licked her fingers clean. Lucien turned away, tried to grab the back of Torin's chair to do the same but it was too late, the poor man exploded in his pants at the same time the screen went blank. He shook, staring at it, the vision of Mah-ron stuck in his head. Her purring moan, her soft body calling. His jaw set and he rose without a word.

Lucien, sighed, heavy and handing him the bag of human medicine. "What do you make of this?" Torin almost snatched the small bag, willing himself to concentrate on anything but Mah-ron's panties. And on a change of clothes, maybe not.

He scanned down and ruffled through it. "She is sick then? But with what?" He studied the small vial and shrugged. He turned on a different screen and typed it in. "'Diabetes…'" He pouted, the word unfamiliar. He clicked two links. What is it? And How is it treated? He read aloud. "'Diabetes is a disorder of metabolism—the way our bodies use digested food for growth and energy. Most of the food we eat is broken down into glucose, the form of sugar in the blood. Glucose is the main source of fuel for the body.

After digestion, glucose passes into the bloodstream, where it is used by cells for growth and energy. For glucose to get into cells, insulin must be present. Insulin is a hormone produced by the pancreas, a large gland behind the stomach.

When we eat, the pancreas automatically produces the right amount of insulin to move glucose from blood into our cells. In people with diabetes, however, the pancreas either produces little or no insulin, or the cells do not respond appropriately to the insulin that is produced. Glucose builds up in the blood, overflows into the urine, and passes out of the body in the urine. Thus, the body loses its main source of fuel even though the blood contains large amounts of glucose.'" He blinked, letting the words digest, Lucien still beside him. He clicked the next link, almost afraid of what he'd find next.

"'Type 1 diabetes is an autoimmune disease. An autoimmune disease results when the body's system for fighting infection (the immune system) turns against a part of the body. In diabetes, the immune system attacks and destroys the insulin-producing beta cells in the pancreas. The pancreas then produces little or no insulin. A person who has type 1 diabetes must take insulin daily to live.'" His eyes lingered on those last words. To live…So her life dangled on this little bit of liquid. He oddly, felt fear.

Lucien's eye ticked. He had had enough. He grabbed the vial from Torin and a syringe, then looked down at his hands. He had no idea what he was doing. He would need to wake this girl. Torin, at the sudden movement looked up, green eyes oddly shimmering, perplexed, scared? Lucien froze, if only for a moment before he turned to leave the room.

Then a scream broke their attention, shrill, panicked blood curdling and un-familiar. Only one reason for that. "GET OFF GET OFF GET OFF!" Another cry.

Now a curious voice. "This is the second time already I've been denied. This saddens me greatly. Surely, if you try I can please you. I'm all about pleasure." A sound smack rings down the hallway, followed by a grunt of pain and Torin and Lucien are down the hall before another could be delivered. They find Paris hovering over Mah-ron, shocked, holding his cheek, blood dripping on the comforter. Mah-ron was on her knees, face angered and scared, a small knife in hand.

She noticed the others and her eyes became pleading but danger flashed in them. "Where am I?! Why is he trying to touch me!? Get! Him! Away!" Her shirt was askew as if that was all Paris could seduce off of her, pink silk bra half visible now, though he only wore jeans, unzipped. This was ridiculous and all three men knew. The latter, too late.

"Paris..." Lucien growled. "I'm more than sure I said 'off-limits.'" At that the blue-eyed man pouted deeply and left the room. The girl relaxed but just barely, knife still in place. Where had she hidden that? He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"I'm not going to ask again…" She warned, eyes dangerous but wavering as they took in Lucien and Torin. Lucien with his mis-matched eyes and dark hair, perfect body underneath his clothes. And Torin, draped in black from head to toe, and wearing gloves, like her. She must have sensed they weren't going to hurt her since she tucked the knife under her pillow and looked around, her eyelids were at half-mast. They were shifty, her every move was careful.

Lucien stepped forward, held out the syringe and glass bottle. "Show me how to use this so I can help you. You look like you need your medicine and-"

He could get no further. Her temper instantly flared up and gave her energy she didn't otherwise have. "YOU WENT THROUGH MY THINGS?! IF YOU STOLE ANYTHING SO HELP ME-" Lucien cut her off with a firm hand on her mouth. She squirmed, fought but he was too strong and she was weakened by lack of energy, she stilled. Torin watched in pain.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" He slipped it into her lap and slowly moved his arm away. She was trembling and he understood. Not only did he look strange to mortals she probably wasn't expecting him to touch her without harming her.

She nodded and kept it to her. "U-um…I already took some, I need to eat now…" Was her quiet response.

He nodded. "Then I shall fetch you something…in the meantime…" He looked from Torin back to the girl. Torin was staring, helpless and Mah-ron was staring at her sleeve where Paris' blood had gotten on it. She mumbled a curse and removed her shirt altogether, as if they weren't there at all. Lucien moved into Torin's line of vision. Mah-ron failed to notice, she saw her Oxford shirt on her old school skirt and slipped it on. She stood and slid off her baggy pants and wrapped the plaid skirt around her, she rolled it, once twice, until it was six inches above her knees and pulled her shirt over the roll. Lucien didn't like the quiet, or the way she acted. Torin was beginning to lean to see her, odd behavior for him but he figured. Now that he's got a taste… "What school is that?" He asked the girl.

Mah-ron was looking into her shirt, seemingly displeased and adjusting something. Her head slowly came up to see Lucien staring at her. She seemed unfazed by his looking at her. "St. Ann Catholic Grade School…" She spoke carefully, her voice was, Lucien realized with a twinge, like Cameo's. Shit…why can't you be like how you were in the video?!

"Oh..." His mind drew a blank. He then stiffened. "We haven't been introduced properly…" He glimpsed at Torin, who now walked up to the bed but otherwise kept his distance. "I'm called Lucien and he's Torin. What are you called, lovely?" As if I don't know. But it'd be better for her to tell us rather than her yelling…

Mah-ron winced when Lucien called her 'lovely' and he didn't miss it but she stayed quiet. Shy? No…insulted? No…not that…She didn't even smile but after a while she spoke. "Mah-ron Jade Stiva. Why am I here? I was by the river…. at least, I don't think I dreamt that…" Shit, I shoulda given them an Alias, now what? Another voice edged in her head. Use your gift…peek into their minds… Mah-ron shook her head. They saved me from the man-whore. The voice growled and she shuddered in fear. Do it!

Lucien noticed her hesitation to say more and the shudder, he started to reach out when he remembered that he had promised the girl food, she was paling by the second. "I'll return with your food, anything I should know?" He tried to think if certain humans can only eat certain things, but he couldn't be sure. He thought it better to ask.

Mah-ron's dazed eyes scanned him. "No meat….and tea please….no trouble…" She shook her head. Torin carefully moved along the wall to the bureau and sat by the bed, he looked uneasy as if he knew he ought to leave but can't help but stay. Lucien nodded but was confused as he left. He glanced at Torin but he knew the man had years of training, he would not touch the female human. Although…. He scowled and stalked off boots sounding down the hallway.

Mah-ron sat quietly, she tugged at her hair in a nervous manner, a few strands fell onto her exposed thighs and Torin gulped, forcing his eyes stationary instead of exploring like they wanted to. Then he noticed her kneepads, which held her socks in place. He quickly looked around and found a brush. Mah-ron jumped and angled her head in his direction. The way he held her brush was odd, as if it was something disgusting, he put it on the bed and pushed it toward her. She scowled. "If my stuff is so damn dirty, then don't touch it…." She kicked it and it fell on the floor with a plastic thunk! She had heard about theses people and she didn't like them too much. Her heart went out to them, yes, but her mind screamed for her to stay planted where she was. She then blinked. They spoke English to me…Her head snapped to a pouting Torin, he gingerly picked up the brush and put it on top of her bureau, he sighed heavily, seemingly discontent.

Now Mah-ron was ever so confused. Why was he acting this way? Toward her even? Torin glimpsed at her and smiled, emerald eyes sparking, seemingly for her. She reddened instantly but managed to find her voice. "Torin, was it? You sure as hell don't talk much…"

He blinked, surprised she talked to him without hate and shuddered. Her cheeks were pink and she was looking at him. That's all the prompting he needed. "At a loss of what to say. Forgive me, but I'm still curious as to how you fell into my home…" he grinned and she gasped, now charmed. Her eyes glazed over and she shivered, her thighs clenched and unclenched with want. He scanned her quickly and she withdrew, he held out a hand, comforting her his goal now. "No, I didn't mean anything bad." He then grinned. "What's your nationality?" He asked in a thick accent. Her skin tone was fascinating to him. How he ached to touch it.

Again, the poor girl shuddered. But this time she smiled, radiant, childish, pure. "I'm Cherokee Indian and Japanese….what are you?" She leaned forward on gloved hands, now seemingly eager. And she was, excited, about him.

Torin blinked at the girl's sudden change. One moment she's mopes, the next she's exuberant. He smiled and focused on her gloves. "I hail from Greece…" He told her and then asked. "Why do you wear those pretty gloves?"

Mah-ron grinned wide at Torin but then it faded at the mention of her gloves. Her arms slid behind her back. "Why do you wear yours?!" She shot back.

Torin stiffened. He certainly couldn't tell her his secret. Mah-ron noticed his jerking motion and smirked. "Oo, touchy huh? I'll tell you, if you tell me…" Her voice was laced with sweetness but Torin shook his head. Mah-ron's expression changed again. All of a sudden, the man seemed desperate to get away from her. Her heart throbbed and she stilled on the bed. Her head sank. "I'm sorry, forget I said that. I'd hug you, you look like you need one, but you're mad at me now…"

At her actions, Torin's own heart ached. He ached to comfort her, to never hurt her, to always be there. She hadn't even been here an hour and already she had him wound around that cute little finger. Without really thinking, Torin rose and picked up half of the comforter, grateful that it was thick, since it was still winter in Budapest. He draped it over the tiny Mah-ron, who seemed to almost disappear under it. He almost thought she did, if not for the small jerk that went through her as the comforter fell. "Hold still…" Torin whispered. He hesitated, sat on the edge of the bed. The form stilled, silent and he gingerly wrapped his arms around it. He sighed heavily, and Mah-ron couldn't tell if it was from relief or something else.

Without meaning to disobey, Mah-ron turned and let her covered arms wrap partially around Torin. Before he could protest, she giggled. "You give funny hugs, but you're really warm and that's nice…" Torin sat silent this time, amazed, perplexed. What was it about her that did this to him? He couldn't understand. He wanted to linger, wanted this to never end, but what scared him was, that he wanted more. But he knew he couldn't. Could never. He shouldn't even be doing what he was. He gingerly peeled the comforter away from Mah-ron and at the same time stepped back from her. He wanted to thank her, somehow, some way but couldn't figure out the words, the how.

Mah-ron's cheeks were red and she smiled brilliantly at Torin. He instantly melted at the sight. Just then, booted steps echoed in the hall again and Lucien appeared with a tray of fruit and set it on the foot of the bed by the small girl. She seemed in a better mood than how he had left her and was curious, he looked to Torin, who also seemed jubilant. Now he was thoroughly confused. "What have I missed?" Mah-ron shook her head and reached for the tray. Torin merely smiled, which was unusual, Lucien would have thought at least his friend would tell him. Could this girl really have an affect on him? Shit, this isn't good, I want him happy but…. she could be Bait…we can't be sure, but if she's like Ashlyn…maybe he's gotten lucky, the god's favor him…

"Where's my tea?" Mah-ron's syrupy voice slid into his thoughts. Torin's head snapped in her direction and he was suddenly off. She watched him, seemly disappointed. Lucien shook his head at the both of them, wanting to wash his hands of them but he himself was the cause. He left the room. And when and only when Mah-ron heard the click of the door did she eat, and eat everything in front of her. But what was only moments later she raced to the bathroom and heaved the contents of her stomach.

She shivered and sighed with relief as she flushed. She hadn't heard footsteps, and there was a knock on the bathroom door. "Are you alright? I heard noise." Mah-ron stiffened. No one could know she was one of those people who couldn't keep food in them, Bulimic.

But then she flinched again. The voice was unfamiliar. "Who are you and why are you in my room?" She demanded, instantly suspicious. Something purred deep inside her in sanction. She didn't know what it was. It rarely made itself none, having weaved its web a long time ago, Distrust.

There was a growl and she instantly pulled the mini knife out of her glove and stood by the door, ready to fight. But the man cleared his throat. "Reyes, Lucien wouldn't allow Torin to come back…I have your tea…" Lucien obviously doesn't trust you, so why bring you here? And what did you do to Torin? Girl, if you hurt him…if you're Bait….

Fuck-shit…. Mah-ron scowled and horridly wiped her face and rinsed before she opened the door. She unnoticeably to untrained eyes slipped the knife in the roll of her skirt. She opened the door and looked up, going for brazen but froze as she took it the man before her. He was gigantic, but then again, being only 4'11 a lot of people are to her. But no, this man before could not be human. His eyes were dark and he was covered in scars, almost frightening. But alluring and handsome under that. She then noticed fresh cuts on his arm and she shuddered. He was like her. She felt a tug at her chest but then scowled. The mask was up again. Letting nothing out and nothing in. She took her tea from the bulking man and slipped at it.

Reyes was frozen in place. He blinked, once twice, making sure the petite girl in front of him was truly real. She was, here she stood, drinking him in along with her tea. His vision slid to her dominant face, one that says it took pleasure in pain and didn't take any bullshit. Next was a lacey pink bra barely hidden by a button of a uniform? Then came those lovely, swerving hips, he licked his lips at the thought of spreading them and then he saw something that made him freeze again. On her knees were a series of slashes, scars months old and very visible. "How the hell did you get those?" His voice was almost angry. He failed to realize or stop his outburst. Such beauty should never be marred in such away!

Mah-ron choked on the tea and looked down, she blanched instantly, in her care not to get any of her things covered in bile; she had removed her gloves and kneepads. She quickly spun around, giving Reyes a glimpse of matching panties. "None of your damn business! I don't know you! I don't have to tell you anything!"

She tried to reach her kneepads but he, larger and quicker, snatched them from her. "I demand to know!" She refused still, lips pursed, eyes angry, turning red? She jumped, making those orbs of deliciousness in her shirt jiggle with the effort. He groaned, cock jerking but then noticed her bare hand. Her palm had slashes as well. He scowled, grabbed her wrist and inspected the damage.

This made little Mah-ron freeze instantly. The way he was looking at her, her hand, concern, worry, then flickers of anger again. It was as if he couldn't believe someone like her would do such a thing to themselves. Then his face oddly softened. And hers hardened at the same time. Yes, they were similar, but that did not mean she would be drawn to him. She would not allow herself to fall for him. And yet, another tug pulled in her chest. She couldn't take his presence for much longer. She had no idea what she would do. She panicked. "HELP! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP! ME!"

Reyes blanched and tried to quiet her just then there was a growl at the door and a feminine gasp. "Reyes!" He looked up to see Ashlyn and Maddox. Maddox looked confused and disapproving, Ashlyn however stomped over. "Let her go now! She's just a kid!" He did as told, ashamed.

Mah-ron blinked as she took in Ashlyn. Another female, I could use this to my advantage. "He scares me!" She cried out and fell into Ashlyn, who not expecting the sudden movement was nearly toppled. But she held tightly to the shivering girl and glared at Reyes until he retreated from the room, knife in hand, holding the blade not the hilt. The small girl trembled in her arms, clinging to her like the frightened child she was.

Ashlyn looked down. Was this the girl Lucien had mentioned? Ashlyn softened. "It's ok. He didn't mean anything. You're safe here…." She petted the girl's hair and that seemed to calm her. She's so young. "What's your name? I'm Ashlyn, and he's Maddox…" She carefully motioned to Violence, standing in the doorway. "How old are you, sweetie?"

Tiny Mah-ron sniffed, wiped her eyes and gave them a weak grin, an act she played well. That of an innocent. "O-oh…hello Ashlyn. And thank you for saving me." Another pitiful sniff. "I'm Mah-ron…hi Maddox…" She made her voice timid. And he nodded in her direction. His eyes were really on Ashlyn, taking her in in a new light. Ashlyn was being motherly, something he hadn't seen yet. He was astounded.

Mah-ron held her head at an angle so that they couldn't always see her eyes. "I'm five…I was born on a leap-year so please don't look at me funny…. I'm not a freak…" On the contrary…. A voice mused in her head. She stiffened.

"Oh, honey we don't think you are. You're adorable!" Ashlyn gushed but Mah-ron flinched. This confused the elder girl. Did she not like compliments? Maddox walked in now and Mah-ron looked up, she had to arch her neck. Ashlyn looked between them and gave Maddox pleading eyes as if to say 'don't scare her.' Maddox nodded and knelt before them.

He studied the girl and as he did, her eyes widen and she clung to Ashlyn, buying her face in the crook of her neck. He blinked. Was he really that frightening? Or was this girl hiding something? His thoughts were interrupted by the bronze girl's muffled words. "Pardon, little one?" He tried, surprised at how calm his voice was, fatherly even.

Mah-ron moved so she could be heard. "I said, is this room soundproof? I'm a person who plays music loud and if I'm to stay here I can't go into music withdrawal. I fear I'll go insane…" More so than usual? A voice prompted in her head. She didn't speak but her head tilted in a yes. Where was talk voice coming from? But it didn't really matter; the voice had been her friend since birth.

Both Maddox and Ashlyn exchanged looks. Maddox had one of confusion, many human things still strange to him, such as Tylenol. Ashlyn was teaching him of her world as he was of his. Ashlyn petted the small girl's head. "Actually, I think it is, since it's right next to the Entertainment Room and Paris likes him um…. movies." Ashlyn smiled and Mah-ron seemed to brighten. Maddox was falling more and more in love with her every second. How good she was with children! She would make a splendid mother.