It was wild how easily he moved her about, handling her like she was weightless. Fang barely had time to register him leaving her before the world spun and her back was to the wall, and suddenly he was hoisting her up, her arms around his neck and her legs over his arms. She yelped in surprise as she clung to him, blushing hotly, searching his face with wide eyes as she hung there for what felt like eternity...and felt incredibly exposed. In truth, he didn't keep her waiting long.

Soon he was slamming into her again, her screams turning into sobs of pleasure as he took her with an intensity that rode almost to the edge of pain, but never quite crossed it. She felt powerless in his arms, unable to move, unable to do anything but just take it, but goddess, she was surprised at how much she loved it. And even more—she trusted him. She trusted with her pleasure and her safety even as he took complete and utter control, and perhaps it was that trust that made her love the surrender.

And so she gave herself to him completely, meeting his eyes even though she shyly wanted to look away, lips parted as her cries blended with his and echoed off the walls. Something was, indeed, happening, that tight, heated pressure building between her legs as she clenched around his cock, legs stiffening, her breathing becoming more ragged. Her hands tangled in his hair like she was holding on for her life—and then he said those familiar words.

"M-me too," she gasped, and clutched him harder, desperately. "Stay," she whimpered. "Please stay. Inside me. Please, please...!"

But her pleading cut off with sobbing scream as she tipped over the edge, trembling uncontrollably—and she kept her eyes on his as she did.

Cadmus Black-Gryphon—Slayer of Distracting Eyelashes.

The ridiculous name, and her Commanderly delivery of it, got a chuckle out of him—even if he did roll his eyes hard. "You know...maybe you were a General in your past life. Or a sergeant," he said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin as though seriously considering it. "I could see you calling the green leafs maggots and making them cry. Anyway."

He peered up at her as she stood, sorry to see her go but knowing she was right, and offered up a small smile as her touch lingered on his skin. "I didn't think I'd magically cured all your trauma in the span of a conversation, but...I'm glad talking helped. Even if only a little."

Something to weather their edge, as she'd put it. He liked the sound of that.

Brushing imaginary dust off his breeches, he joined her, rising to his feet with a groan and a slight crackle of bone. Ugh, he'd forgotten how uncomfortable prolonged sitting on a hard floor was in this body. A bit stiff, he rolled his shoulders and popped his back, and then perked up at the mention of a bath.

She was speaking his language. If there was one thing he hated, it was feeling dirty, and gryphons were fairly meticulous about their grooming. Even if he was going to get sweaty and dirty all over again tonight. A magic bath, too? Not just cold water in a river? He considered the offer, hedging because it seemed more polite to let her go first—but perhaps this would be more efficient. He didn't know what supplies she needed, since he didn't particularly need any himself. She would probably be able to gather them faster than he could locate them.

"If you don't mind? Ah."

Pulling his coin purse from his pocket, he folded it into her hand. "I can at least help pay for everything," he said. "Besides, I need a shirt if you wouldn't mind? Maybe a couple extra since I'm cursed?"

He was trusting her, giving her all the money he carried like that. Maybe it was a stupid, naive move, but he hoped she could see it as the gesture of good will that it was. Money passed off, he turned her hand over and lifted it to his lips, brushing a kiss over her knuckles. 

"Be vigilant," he told her, releasing her hand. "They should have moved on by now but you're still a mark, and they don't all work at night."

...Really?

Pulled to her feet, Fang peered curiously up at Spike, surprised—and touched—by his answer. He just wanted to make her feel good? That was it? It was such a sweet, selfless act that she felt herself melt with a strange fluttering in her belly. It didn't change the fact that she still really, really wanted him, but...

There would be other opportunities, right? They had come here with a goal, and they owed it to Maya to commit. They couldn't just stay in bed all day exploring each others' bodies. Responsibility! Diligence! She was a priestess, for Inima's sake, and she needed to pull herself together!

Ugh, but she supposed she could see why such things were discouraged. Spike had become very...distracting, she thought as she watched him turn to undress, her eyes wandering over the contours of his scarred back all the way down to his shapely rear...

Nope! She jerked her eyes away, turned, and went to dig into her bag for her clothes, sucking in a bracing breath. She would have to clean up a bit first for obvious reasons, but she could be fast. 

She had just grabbed out a top and long sarong when she felt Spike's hands in her shoulders. She startled, opening her mouth to ask what he was doing, but soon she had her answer. Pushed up against the wall, she braced herself so her forearms were rested against it—and then drew in a sharp breath when she felt his cock sliding against her sex. Oh. Oh. Wait. Like this?! 

Desire, need, and a little embarrassment swept through her in a breathless rush as she pressed her cheek against the wall to peek back at him in question.

And then he gave her exactly what she wanted.

The first thrust took her breath away, and she didn't think she caught it again after that. The position had him sliding deeper than before, hitting sensitive spots and new spots altogether at brand new angles. Goddess, she had thought he'd taken her roughly that first time but here she felt truly claimed. Perhaps it was the fierceness, the primal urgency, or perhaps it was that she felt truly at his mercy pinned like this and barely able to see him. Yet through it all, with a strange thrill, she realized she liked the sound of being his, of belonging to him—which were all thoughts to deconstruct later.

Fang's screams of pleasure echoed through the room, and someone banged on the wall from the other side, but their shouts were drowned out by her cries and for the moment, at least, she just didn't care. She arched back into his pounding and clawed at the wall for purchase, for as his body slapped against hers, rocking her forward, she started to feel herself slipping. It didn't help, either, that between the primal rutting and the exploration of his hands and lips, she felt that aching pressure begin to build anew—and her legs were going weak. It was getting harder and harder to keep upright, and she gasped out to Spike, "I-I'm gonna fall!"

Did that feel good, he asked.

Face flushed, lips parted, chest heaving with gasping breaths, Fang peered at Spike through her lashes, slightly incredulous. She was still shivering and she had cried out loud enough to wake the dead and he asks if it felt good?

She nodded weakly, swallowing hard. "I think you can tell? Maybe?" she ventured with a sheepish laugh, scrubbing a hand over her hot face. "Sweet goddess, where did you even learn that?"

And yet, even though her body was awash with heat and pleasure and tingling to her toes, that strange, deep ache remained, a need for something more despite the satisfaction. If anything, her release only made her more hyper aware of it, made her craving more intense—and she realized it was him. He was the missing piece. She wanted to feel that again, but she wanted him filling her while she did, wanted to feel him plunging in deep until she could take no more with his body hot against her own.

But. There was no way she could say that. Despite their intimacy, the idea of initiating or asking something so...so dirty...was intimidating beyond belief. And besides, it wasn't fair after he had made her feel so amazing. She wanted him to feel that good, too.

Lifting up onto her elbows, she took a deep breath. "It was so good, I can't even...no, not good—it was amazing, Spike," she said softly, and lowered her eyes, biting her lip. "But, ah...what about you? Is there, um, anything I can...?" She trailed off, losing the nerve.

"Wh-what?!" Fang managed to gasp out, still half trying to process that this was happening. Because while she had definitely read some things, enough to know some of the basics and even a few different ones mentioned in the scandalous poetry she'd read, quite a few were still a mystery to her. This was one of them. Well, up until that moment.

It was difficult to think; did he expect a coherent answer out of her?! Crying out, she squeezed his hand tightly and arched into him, her other hand grabbing at the sheets so she didn't pull at his hair; she didn't want to hurt him, and oh goddess it was intense. His arms around her legs, tense and trembling with pleasure, controlled some of her wild squirming and kept her in place. Which was probably a good thing, because she felt herself rapidly losing control.

"I-I...I slept..." She cut off with a moan and clapped the hand that had been clutching the sheets to her mouth, biting her finger. "I slept...oh goddess, Spike, I don't know!" she cried out, the sound edging close to a sob as she threw her head back. "Spike, oh goddess, please!"

Raizel didn't need his protection, but he wanted to give it to her—and gods, did he regret ever making her feel hunted and afraid. She was a perfectly capable woman. She was fierce and formidable in her own right, brave to the point of recklessness. She was no dainty waif; there was toned muscle beneath his embrace and she was nearly as tall as he was. 

And yet, right then she felt so small.

She kissed his palm and then leaned into it, and it was such a sweet, tender gesture that he felt his chest tighten inexplicably. It felt, in a way, like acceptance, like maybe she didn't hate him so much after all—and like maybe he was stupid for thinking she ever did. Even when she was angry she'd never stopped seeking out these little points of contact.

How oblivious was he, he thought as she settled against him, her head against his shoulder as she idly played with his hand.

Cadmus bit the inside of his cheek, swallowing as something poked at the edges of his mind, thoughts he had kept locked away and for a damned good reason. He shoved them back. Not now. Right now, he was content to hold her quietly, letting her have her thoughts and process what she needed to at her own speed.

Soon enough, she was off again, and he let out a little laugh against her hair as she spoke of her reputation, and then was going off about meals and payment and warmth. He blinked at her, meeting her eyes when she looked at him with that familiar playfulness. 

"Bad deal? For me? Are you kidding?" He cracked a smile, equally teasing. "You're free entertainment, Raizel. The things that come out of your mouth? That and..."

He trailed off, because as he had been watching her face as he spoke, subtly studying her with her so close to him: the flush in her cheeks, the brilliant blue of her eyes, the fullness of her lips...

He wanted to kiss her.

The thought blindsided him even though it had been hovering at the edges for a while, his throat tightening and pulse quickening. He jerked his eyes up from her lips to her eyes with a rush of guilt. What the fuck, Cadmus? What the actual fuck? She was hurt and vulnerable with her heart raw and bloody before him, and his first impulse was to kiss her? Now? Of all fucking moments? Oh, yes, how very sensitive, Cadmus. Because that was definitely what every woman wanted when she was picking up the pieces of her trauma strewn all about her feet—

Ah. Shit. 

He wanted to kiss her.

It wasn't like it was an unusual thought. She was gorgeous.

But it was her. Raizel. Not a random fling at a tavern you had a go at and then never saw again.

Realizing he had left his sentence hanging for far too long, he reached out and brushed at her cheek, just below her eye. "Sorry. Got distracted," he said. "You had an eyelash just..." He pretended to flick it away. "Got it. It's gone now."

Fang's sleep had been deep and dreamless, the sleep of sheer and utter exhaustion—if a pleasant sort of exhaustion. The stress of many long days of travel followed by their bout of vigorous exercise didn't really leave much energy left over for thoughts, even unconscious ones, and it was the first time in days that they'd slept in a real bed. Needless to say, she was out for the count, and she barely stirred when he rose.

The kiss on the neck got a soft murmur from her, her head tilting to the side, but she still didn't wake. And though her body responded to his slow descent beneath the covers, she barely responded at all. Her nipples rose to taut peaks beneath his caresses, her skin shivered subtly, and a soft sigh left her as he moved ever lower, belly sucking in when it tickled. The veil of sleep began to lift but it still felt like dreaming to her sleep-addled mind.

This...was nice, she thought. These kisses and caresses were lovely. It had been a while since she'd had a dream that wasn't the violent one, but this...this was the complete opposite. Her breath came out a shivery sigh as she sleepily spread her legs to let him in because oh goddess, already that familiar hot, needy ache was growing—and not because she was sore. Would he take her again?

But then she felt something different moving against her, hot and wet, caressing over that part of her that made her body light up, and her eyes fluttered open with a little whimper. She stared up at the blurry ceiling as her vision adjusted, mind struggling to process everything, and realized only after several disorienting seconds that she was not dreaming.

Gasping, her hands shot down and curled in Spike's hair, her thighs closing against his head in surprise, and her face flooded with heat. "S-Spike?! W...what...what are you—?"

Ohmygoddessohmygoddessohmygoddess! Was that..if she was gripping his head, was he—?! Was that his mouth?! There?!

Her skin burned hotter with embarrassment, but then his tongue moved against that small, sensitive spot just right and she let out a sharp moan, her hips involuntarily jerking up against his mouth. "Spike!"

She was wide awake now.

Goddess, he was so...

Cute?

Maybe that was a strange thing to think about a grown man and former assassin, a man who had taken out three men for her without breaking a sweat, a man who made her tremble all over until she couldn't breathe, but...he was. He was sweet, awkward, and surprisingly candid and vulnerable despite what he'd been through. Some people protected their hearts with stone when they'd been hurt as he had, but it seemed the layers had been thin and crumbly.

Fang smiled at that, eyes still closed, leaning her head into his hand. "That's okay," she murmured. "It can be our thing alone. Our secret. We're the only ones who need to know."

Well, them and the entire inn, but she wasn't thinking about that right then as her body grew heavier, her breathing soft and even. She was fighting sleep and failing—and it wasn't long before she lost the battle entirely.

Not that she'd fought very hard.

Oh gods, oh gods. She was crying. 

Mild panic set in as hot tears dripped onto his arm and he felt the catches in her breathing, and it only rose higher with the words that followed. They were so full of raw pain, and so full of questions that he just didn't have answers for, that he froze. What could he even say to that that wouldn't sound placating and insincere? Because the truth was...what if she was right? What if she had been tossed aside like trash? He could reassure her and tell her that wasn't true, but what if she found her people again—and they didn't want her? It would be an asshole thing to do—because neither of them knew.

He'd meant every word he said about how he viewed her: that he saw her as a good person, that she didn't deserve it, that she deserved happiness. But he didn't have it in him to potentially lie about it, not when he'd already lied so much, and fuck, he was horrible at navigating delicate situations. He was great at hunting and hurting, violence and intimidation, but this?

She deserved someone so much better. Someone who could soothe away the hurts and knew what to say and do. But here he was instead, holding her at her weakest and feeling utterly powerless to help her—because this wasn't something you just "fixed".

So he listened, and held her, and let her cry, nuzzling lightly against her hair and breathing her in. It hurt to see her hurt, deep in his chest—what was that about? And when she mentioned she'd looked for him...

Gods.

"I missed you," he admitted, reaching up to gently wipe at her tears with a thumb. "I didn't want to leave, I just...panicked. Selfishly. I guess I was ashamed and it didn't feel right, like I was taking advantage of you." He winced, closing his eyes. 

"As fucked up as it is, I was...happy to see you again. I mean, I was also bloody horrified, but..."

Another deep breath. Translating thoughts into words was hard, and Raizel had such an honest, colorful way with them. "You'd be missed, Raizel. I'd miss you. Who else is going to call me a frog? Or was it toad? Ah...sorry, that was lame, I'm really bad at this."

Letting his hand cup her chin, he turned her head toward him just a little, leaning so he could look at her. "I know that probably doesn't mean much because I haven't known you long. But...I'd like to. Know you longer, I mean. The 'you' that's right in front of me, and the 'you' you may or may not uncover one day." 

Another pause and he shifted his eyes away, suddenly awkward, hand trailing away from her face. "I'm not sure if I'm being helpful or not. And you can tell me to shut up anytime. What you're going through—what you've been through—is fucked up and unfair, Raizel. And maybe it is meaningless. Maybe it was a random act of senseless violence. But that doesn't mean you lack value."

His quick agreement and total about-face got a laugh out of Fang, and she gave him another warm squeeze. 

"A wise choice," she said with a nod even as that familiar guilt tapped at her brain, but she pushed it away stubbornly. Her limbs felt heavy and relaxed, and while she had stopped feeling trembly and wobbly in the bath, goodness was she sore. And tired. Who knew  "making love" could be such a workout?

Nuzzling against him, eyes closed, she let out a quiet sigh. "It'll be fine. I'm here now, so I'll just do as the Serenians do, same as we expect of travelers to my country. If there's anyone you'd want to introduce me to, if that's your custom and your preference, I'm okay with that. Obviously you can't tell them my station, but I doubt anyone would recognize me. Fang's not an uncommon Thanati name, unless you give my full name. And I'm not really, um..." She shrugged. "Talked about, I suppose?"

"Oh." Fang blinked owlishly at that. That made significantly more sense and sounded way less creepy and invasive than the original version. With a relieved sigh, she nodded at his explanation. "That makes more sense, I think. Especially with what I understand of this country."

Scooting a little closer to him, she cuddled against his side with an arm thrown over him, her head resting against his shoulder. "You're fine, Spike. I'm sorry if I...if I was insensitive. I'm not very good at this, either...like at all. Not even a little bit," she said with a soft laugh. "So you're not alone there. It's just..."

Hmm. How to explain.

"Back home, it's different. We don't introduce our partner to our parents because they already know them—because they were the ones that arranged the betrothal in the first place and vetted everyone. I understand it's mostly nobility that does that here? That everyone else just...somehow...finds someone on their own?" Her brow furrowed a little, hoping she got it right; for her it was a foreign concept.

"Priests and priestesses don't do that. Our service is to Inima and the people we serve. We don't have betrothals, we don't marry, we don't have relationships like that. They're distractions. I...suppose I can see the truth in that." She squeezed him tighter. "What I'm saying is, my mother would be rightfully livid if she knew, and it would reflect badly on her. And...it would just be bad. Really bad." She swallowed, looking away. "Considering she's the Maharani."

This could have gone badly, and Cadmus was prepared for it when she froze up. Prepared for her to shove him away or punch him—and it was fine if she did, that was her right and he was the one invading her space. Perhaps he should have used his brain and thought it out a little more before just going for it, he thought with a knot of anxiety in his gut. But then he felt her relax and lean into him, and he let himself relax again, too, with a soft breath that made her hair flutter.

A hand covering his arm, fingers tracing along his skin...she was doing it again, just as she had that one night back before he'd fucked everything up. Or at least back before she knew he'd fucked everything up. Before he'd panicked and left so she could remember him like that and not as he truly was. He closed his eyes as he listened to her, the hairs along his arm rising along the path her fingers took, little goosebumps springing up, but despite the magic her fingers were working, he soon found himself tensing again at her words.

They were familiar.

Not because he'd heard them from her before, but because he'd thought them himself.

But she was wrong.

She didn't deserve that. 

And for her to think she might deserve this—that she deserved whatever happened to her, whatever made her tremble and lash out in her sleep...? His jaw tightened, because he wanted nothing more than to have a nice meeting with whoever had done it and whoever had made her feel like less.

"That's blatantly untrue," he said as he squeezed her a little tighter, leaning down so his mouth was near her ear. "Listen to me. You do deserve happiness. You do have a place in these fantasies you dream up, if you'd just let yourself have one. And...I don't know who told you that you could possibly deserve this, but I'd love to have ten minutes alone with them, just to chat. Unless it's you. In which case...no, Raizel."

On an impulse, he pressed his lips her temple. "Believe me when I say you're one the strongest, kindest, bravest people I've met—not to mention funniest. And weirdest." He paused. "And scariest," he added wryly, giving her another squeeze. "I can't imagine you'd be so different in your past, either. All your strange analogies have to come from somewhere."

He sighed, resting his chin on her shoulder. "But honestly, I don't think forgetting your past would change who you are at your core. What could you have possibly done to make what happened to you okay in any world?"

Fang rolled over onto her side to face him, propping herself up onto an elbow. No way he'd already forgotten after all that! 

"You know, that stuff you were talking about," she gently prompted, lifting her eyebrows meaningfully.

"The, um...customary things?" She cleared her throat and looked away, fidgeting with the covers as she spoke. "I just want to make sure I'm understanding this correctly. It's customary in Serendipity to let your parents know when you've...had intercourse?"

Conk him on the head and then bonk foreheads? How violent. Cadmus snorted and rolled his eyes, about to remark that it was interesting how he was the only one getting smashed in the head with a rock in that scenario—but then he paused. Something...wasn't quite right, here. Her voice was playful, but her body told a different story. She'd gone too still, but at the same time not still at all; he could feel a light vibration against his side and beneath his hand. 

Was she shivering?

But the room wasn't cold, and she'd just drank hot coffee and stew—hell, he would notice a drop in temperature before anyone, shirtless as he was thanks to his streak of ruining every shirt he looked at. Her hand squeezed against him but she continued on, acting okay even though she clearly wasn't, and while he had no idea what had triggered it...

He didn't need to.

Something had gotten to her. Something she didn't want to say. Something horrible enough to make her tremble even in warm daylight among company. That was all he needed to know.

She turned her face into his shoulder, words muffled as she said something about making new memories and gryphon beaks, about learning to be happy. It was innocent, light-hearted, but something about it wasn't right; there was a detail there—or rather, not there—that got under his skin, poking at his brain in a way he didn't like. And he tried to ignore it, tried to brush it aside—

Ah, fuck it.

"C'mere," he murmured, but he didn't give her a chance to respond before he was pulling her into him, turning the half-hug into a full hug as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. His chest against her back, his legs on either side of her, he just held her like that in a loose embrace that she could break whenever she wanted. He didn't know what compelled him to do it—no, he did. There was something vulnerable there, in her words and her body—and he wanted to protect her, even though there was nothing external to protect her from.

That was the frustrating part.

"I've noticed something about you," he said quietly, resting his chin atop her head. "I've noticed that when you talk about things like this, about happiness, you're never part of your own scenario. You leave yourself out. Why is that?"

Massage—?!

Despite their previous intimacy, the visual that induced made Fang sputter, blowing bubbles in the water in the process. Spike was quick to clarify it as a joke, but Fang still sank her face into her hands and rubbed her temples as though trying to purge the wickedness from her brain.

Because, well...it wasn't like she was opposed...

He held his hands up in surrender and she let out a nervous laugh, dunking beneath the water briefly for even considering it—but perhaps that topic would have been much safer to explore, and kept his mouth shut better, than everything that came right after.

Because oh boy.

What followed was a cacophony of words, an outright landslide that started out as a pebble before taking the entire cliff and all the houses with it. Wiping the hair and water out of her face, Fang stared at him, opening her mouth to interject before closing it when he just kept going, getting more and more bewildering by the second. People...people introduced their families when they had sex?! W-what in the Serenian insanity—?! And...making love...but not like making love...? Her head spun. She understood the euphemism as a polite way of saying sex—or so she thought she did. But Spike's emphasis on the words kept changing and it seemed like they meant different things despite being the same words!

And then he was gone, and she was alone in the bath with a dull headache throbbing behind her eyes.

What had she gotten herself into...? Thank the goddess Spike didn't have parents because she would not enjoy showing up on their doorstep to announce their bedroom business! How did that conversation even go?! "Hi mom, dads, this is Spike, we just had sex."

What a nightmare.

She finished up her bathing routine, taking longer than Spike with all her hair, but when she finally stepped from the room her wet hair was combed and braided and she was wrapped in her towel. She gave Spike an awkward sidelong look—he was dressed, she noticed, and she did not plan to be because what was the point?—before she draped her towel over the chair and dove beneath the covers, wrenching them up to her chin.

"So...um..." She stared up at the ceiling.

"Wanna try again?" She blinked, paused, and decided to reframe. "What you said. The conversation. Want to start over?"

"You...could say that," Cadmus said slowly, leaning his head against hers and letting another wave of tension wash out with his breath. "You know. Politics, jealousy." He glanced up at the ceiling. "You really can't escape it. Every group has its hierarchies, from the smallest ants to the most advanced cities, and it ruins everything, but..."

He sucked in a breath, the sound slightly shaky, and curled an arm around her waist, hand resting lightly on her hip. "I miss them everyday," he said, and let his breath out sharply. 

"Actually, you know what? Maybe that's an idea. You want your memories, I don't want mine. Trade?"

And he lightly bumped her leg with his, glancing sidelong at her with a crooked smile.

He resurfaced, thank Inima, and Fang watched in confusion as so many expressions played out across his face until. She opened her mouth, about ready to ask for an explanation because what had gotten into him?!

But he spoke first.

"It"?

Fang glanced downward—and more water sloshed over the edge as she moved off of him, splashing back down into the water on her side of the tub. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't—I wasn't trying to—!" she sputtered out, and her blush only grew when the full weight of his words hit her: revisit this in the morning? He...he wanted to do it again? Well, obviously! And it wasn't like she wasn't hoping to try it out again, but saying it out loud was a different thing altogether!

It was her turn to sink into the water until it was to her chin, but warm water couldn't exactly cool a hot face. "R-right. Yes. Tomorrow. But, um, that wasn't actually what I—wait. Sore? It's sore?" Concern flashed in her eyes. "Did I hurt you?"

Oh...

There it was again, that sharp spike of guilt as he remembered how he had hunted her, before he had realized it was her. It had been rather easy, but humans made for easy prey—a thought which made his stomach twist the instant it rolled through his head, because perhaps on some level that had always been part of the draw. It was easy work...and it came naturally to him. It satisfied a primal instinct he couldn't otherwise exercise in the middle of the city.

He swallowed, wetting his suddenly dry throat as a flash of memory went through his mind, the memory of how close Raizel had come to death. Because of him. The idea of anyone harming her made him ill, so what happened when that "anyone" was him?

It was a relief at least to know he'd been the only stalker, as twisted as that was, and that this new one was more ephemeral. Haunted by a ghost of herself? He chewed the inside of his cheek, studying her as she spoke, remembering the way she'd held the knife to his chest as she choked him and kissed him. She'd seemed so angry, so hurt. And those scars on her back, those angry, violent things that looked like they may have once attached wings, or like someone angrily carved the shapes of them into her flesh...

Something had happened to her, something sick and awful and violent.

What happened when she did remember? 

Were some things better to forget?

He nodded thoughtfully, understanding how strange nostalgia for things that had never happened could be—but he had no real frame of reference for what she was going through. It would be maddening not knowing who you were—but what if it was her body's way of protecting her?

He didn't voice that, though. He couldn't imagine she hadn't already agonized over those ideas herself. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I can't imagine how frustrating that is—and scary."

As for him? He had the privilege of having all his memories, lucky for her and her curiosity! And true to Raizel, she didn't beat around the bush when it came to asking the important things. Cadmus sputtered—LIKE A BABY BIRD?!—and he met her devilish look with laughter that was half exasperated, half embarrassed as she demonstrated.

Oh gods.

"No! No no, not like that! There was no...just no," he wheezed. "I mean, they fed me but they didn't...they didn't..." He cleared his throat, "...vomit into my mouth, no." 

He sat up straighter, slightly flushed, unable to believe he was explaining this. After spending so much time among humans and away from his kind, it felt strange even to him. "Our beaks are soft at birth. They don't harden for some time, so we nurse until then. If you must know." He shifted a look away. "I don't remember that part, but I have a lot of childhood memories. Running around outside, playing with the others, trying to fly and failing, shifting for the first time..."

He frowned. "My mother. My sister..." He shrugged. "There's good and bad."

"Hey!" 

Fang lunged forward which, in the small space, soon had her straddling him again. She wasn't sure what had just happened or what this customary stuff he was talking about was, but she had a feeling it was another cultural thing she just wasn't savvy to.

Hooking her hands under his armpits, she tugged at him, trying to pull him back up before he committed some sort of ritual suicide because...who knew why!

"Hey, wait, come back!"

It was nice, really, being carried like this. Something about it made her feel safe and cherished, and it felt...right. He'd carried her from the bath to bed, and now they were going in reverse. Fortunately, this time Spike showed how to work the knobs and when he lowered her into the tub, it was warm and soothing instead of an icy deathtrap. She sank down into the water, sighing gratefully, wincing only a little as she realized how sore she was. And not just the obvious place; her legs ached and even her butt was sore. How, she had no idea.

Spike joined her, settling in across from her, and she stretched her legs out so they were on either side of as she sank down to her chin. This was almost as good as the sex. Almost. And she had just started to close her eyes, content and warm, when Spike opened his mouth.

Cold hard reality struck her like a slap to the face and her entire body recoiled, spilling water over the sides of the tub as she jerked upright. 

"NO!" she said, and clapped a hand to her mouth as she realized how forcefully she'd exclaimed it. Sucking in a breath, she hunched her shoulders and cleared her throat, looking down into the water. "Ah, ahem, I mean...no. That wouldn't be a good idea. At all."

Now her heart was pounding for a new reason altogether, anxiety creeping in and chilling her blood. Everything came rushing back in: she had broken so many rules already. She was supposed to stay close to the Temple, but her mother had given her leeway to explore Kunata to help the local spirits after a long, passionate argument: how was she supposed to use her gift by staying in one place? Yiroa was skeptical; she knew her daughter and her questionable decision-making, and she had nearly gotten herself stabbed once already. But she had relented, giving her a chance, on the condition that she was to write her weekly so she knew she was still alive and hadn't done anything stupid.

Her last letter had been sent just before they boarded the ship. A ship she was very much not supposed to board, and she had been assaulted and nearly killed not a day in.

And now she was in Serendipity.

Naked.

In a bath, washing off the evidence of what she'd just done with a Serenian man. Wait. Evidence. Oh. Oh goddess.

Her thoughts spiraled, her eyes going wide as she replayed what they had done. He had spilled his seed, wasted Inima's gift. Their sex had been for fun—which was all she wanted from it, she certainly wasn't prepared to carry a child! But in that moment it was just one more transgression in a growing list of them and she pressed a hand to her mouth in realization, guilt spreading through the euphoria. 

"I would be in so much trouble if they knew," she said, and sank down into the water again. "They...they're not...it's complicated."