A Cage for Hungry Hearts [COMPLETE]

52. Domare

We stroll across the desert, the night sky a sparkling cobalt blanket over our heads. There are faster ways to travel, and if we don't resort to them, we will soon be found. Humans are resilient. They will inevitably catch up, but I am enchanted by the fathomless ceiling of the world.

Winston is enchanted in a different way, lost to the thrall. His skin crawls with hunger. It wafts from him, heady and sweet, alongside continuous arousal. I can't sate him in either way yet. Much as he wants me to, much as those graphic thoughts of his keep slipping into my head, he knows we cannot stop. He dances between self-disgust and a lustful haze. It's nauseating, how much he still feels, though I know he's lost some of that in the change. He said nothing when I ate that wretch right in front of him and emanated a frigidity I've never felt from him before.

I feel so light in this new shape, like I could disappear into the air with a simple thought or perhaps a mighty flap of the two powerful wings on my back. Their bones feel fragile; they are so light, but not nearly as sensitive as my tail, which Winston so joyfully discovered. It swishes behind me as I walk, dragging serpentine across the sand, tickling on the underside. The horns jutting from my head don't feel heavy, but they set me slightly off-balance.

I am as my ancestors were. Demons. Proper monsters. No one has worn such a skin in a thousand years, yet the Nexus, a human invention, brought about such a beast's return. I can't find it in myself to be grateful. This wasn't worth the years of confinement and torture.

Losing Grandmère certainly wasn't worth it either. Eventually, I will have to mourn her. Grief presses at the back of my throat, but I am floating on a strange high that keeps it at bay. When the high recedes, I will certainly collapse under it. Hopefully, we're safely hidden by then.

Society waits ahead of me, but so too does a lifetime of hiding and running. I yearn to see the world as it truly is, but I dread that Winston will come to hate it. I dread that he will come to hate me when he realizes how much he will have to leave behind now that he is changed. Grandmère rarely even fed me her blood. Such ancient power must be blazing in his veins.

"I could never hate you, Domare," Winston says, his arm brushing against mine. Of course, he is now as privy to my thoughts as I am to his. He grabs my hand and knots our fingers together, but he doesn't look at me. He doesn't need to. I feel his conviction mirroring mine. "I love you."

I swallow dryly. My mouth tastes of things recently dead.

Winston doesn't mind that anymore. He understands.

I squeeze his hand in return, though I am too distracted by the whir of helicopter blades in the distance to voice reciprocation. It's many miles off but coming our way fast. The metal beast's roar rattles my eardrums, even from such a distance. Winston flinches under the onslaught of sound, so new to his senses that he lets go of me to press his hands over his ears like a child. I rub his back and speak into his mind.

Let me shut it up for you?

I can feel his uncertainty coiling beneath his skin, his guilt for not feeling guilt. He hates himself for no longer caring for strangers. Humans are so sentimental, but he isn't one anymore. He even looks different, sharper around the edges.

Winston lowers his hands from his ears and looks to me. Those lovely, honey-gold eyes of his are captivating. The change has only made them brighter. "They may have guns, even missiles. Lights to distract you," he says.

I slap my tail against the ground. "Want to watch me play with them?'

He nods, so I tug him along by the elbow.