A knock sounded, vibrating down through the door and causing Remi's back to tremble. She quickly got up and scooted away from it, moving to the other side of the bathroom and perching herself on the edge of the tub.

It was probably Blue or Bliss, but she didn't want to talk to anyone right now. Besides, they wouldn't understand; neither of them had ever seemed affected by the terrified manner in which people looked at them. They were always either oblivious, or simply didn't care. Nothing phased them, while everything seemed to phase Remi.

"It's me," a low voice muttered, lightly scraping his sharp claws on the other side of the door to let her know who me was.

Killure?

Remi bit her lip. She didn't know how to feel about him--her emotions were torn in two directions. Should she be angry that he could only see her for the monster she could use her powers to become, or should she apologize to him for not trying to see his side of things?

A door wasn't the only thing between them. There was also a world of differences and prejudice.

"Let me be," Remi murmured quietly, but she knew his sharp ears heard her perfectly.

"A'ight, I will . . . but, at least let me say something first," he sounded gruff and uncomfortable in contradiction to his words--as if he didn't want to be speaking at all.

Remi shoved down her feelings and took a few deep breaths, forcing her face to go blank--a mask to hide the turmoil going on inside of her. Once she'd looked in the mirror and was satisfied that her face wasn't giving anything away, she walked to the door and abruptly swung it open, crossing her arms beneath her chest.

There he was.

Standing, with his hands shoved into the pockets of his shiny, black trousers and all traces of his usual smug, arrogant expression gone, he looked at her with those tortured blue eyes of his.

He cleared his throat, scowling slightly. "I . . . shouldn't have said that. I stepped out of line and forgot my place."

Remi's blood boiled, and her mask fell to the ground with a painful clatter that only she could hear. She put her hands on his strong, hard chest and pushed him aside, a lone tear escaping down her cheek. She knew he took a step back for her sake, or else she wouldn't have been able to even make him sway, but she didn't care.

His eyes widened at the sight of her tear, guilt flashing through his eyes.

"You should know by now that I don't care about any of that!" she yelled, throwing a pillow at him and then burying herself beneath the others like a groundhog.

Remi watched through a hole in her shield of pillows as he persistently bent down beside the bed and furrowed his brows, asking, "Then why are you upset?"

It's not like he really wanted to know what she was crying about, anyway. He probably just wanted to make sure she wasn't about to sell him to the Meat Palace, or something.

"Idiot," she muttered, shifting around to hide his face from view. She knew she should stay like that, hiding everything from him. Especially her anger, which was threatening to boil over at any minute. She didn't want to say anything she'd later regret.

But when Killure pried a pillow from her hiding place, allowing a big stream of light to come through, she couldn't help but burst up from her shield of pillows and release her anger.

He was tilting his head to the side, appearing thoroughly confused until he saw the tear that had stained her cheek. He reached for her face, entranced, but she scooted back on the bed before he could touch her.

"Look," she growled, fire blazing in her eyes. "I'm angry because you're hating me for no good reason! I didn't do anything to you. I've never threatened you, or let you get hurt. So, I don't understand you. You're so arrogant and conceited and predu—"

An inhumane growl ripped from Killure's throat, cutting her off mid-sentence. He obviously didn't like to hear her insulting him. His eyes were on fire now, too, and she glared up at him as he parted his lips to speak.

He didn't have any right to be mad right now.

"You don't understand a thing, do you?" he sneered, pulling back and standing up. "I've gone most of my life convinced Designers were absolute monsters. Hated your entire family as a whole for what he did."

Her anger was temporarily forgotten amidst her confusion. "Who?"

Killure's eyes darkened, nearly turning black like a demon's. They became deep, vast pools of unfathomable hatred, and in that moment, Remi thought he might kill her.

Seeing her expression, he quickly shook his head. "It's not relevant. The point is, I expected the worst when I came here. I expected torture, and eventual death. And dreamed of killing you all. Finding a way to kill your kind so there would be no chance of any of you coming back to life."

His eyes began churning, conflicted, and he turned his head away from her with a deep grimace marring his handsome features. "And then I met you, and nothing you did made any sense to me. It still doesn't, and that frustrates me more than you can imagine. But I do know that I'm unable to hate you, no matter how much I want to. And believe me, I want to."

Remi's eyes stopped burning, and her anger slowly began to drain away.

He looked like he was about to say more, but stopped himself short and pulled a shaky smirk onto his face. Somehow it looked even more creepy than usual right now.

"Also," he murmured, sauntering towards her and leaning over the bed. Her breath caught when he placed hands on either side of her head and hovered over her body without quite touching her. "This skimpy little silk robe you're wearing is really turning me on."

The shift in his mood slammed into her like a tsunami. His words made her heart skip a beat, and turned her body hot. Remi forced herself to roll her eyes and push him off, even though that was the last thing she felt like doing in that moment. "Perhaps I'll go change into a robe that reaches my ankles, then."

If only she had one that long. In reality, she had only packed this one, and even at home, she didn't have any that were much longer. She might have to make another trip to town for clothes one of these days.

Killure landed on his back beside her, cackling with laughter on the bed. Had he been messing with her?

Remi quickly got off the bed and put a safe distance between them, and then allowed herself to smile. She no longer felt much of her earlier anger. "You know, Killure," she began, when his eerie laughter eventually began to ebb out. "I never did thank you for saving me today. So, thank you."

He raised an eyebrow, sitting up slightly and bracing himself with a hand. "Weren't you annoyed about that?"

Remi pursed her lips and shrugged. "I'm annoyed about how you went about it. I don't want you killing people--even if they're trying to kill me. But, I am grateful you saved my life."

He smirked widely. "No killing, doll? But it's half the fun."

"Then I suppose you're going to have to live your life without any fun," she ground out sarcastically, turning around and going to retrieve the bag she'd left in the bathroom.

He was off her bed by the time she came back, taking her bag from her and setting it on the plush, purple couch on the other side of the room.

A thought occurred to Remi. One that made her heart to beat like an erratic drum against her rib-cage.

"Killure, do you trust me?" she asked quietly.

His body to froze in place.

Slowly, he turned to face her, offering a tantalizing smile. "I said I don't hate you, not that I trust you. There's an enormous difference."

Remi grinned in response, walking closer towards him. His smile turned wary in response. "Perhaps we can take a step in that direction, then. What do you say?"

Killure looked unimpressed, leaning against the arm of the couch. "I'd say no. But I suppose you'll do it anyway."

She grasped her hands behind her back and shifted from foot to foot excitedly. "You'll like it, I swear."

"What exactly will I like? Unless it's getting to see what's under that robe of yours or having a hot soak in the bathroom tub, I doubt I'll enjoy it."

"I'm gonna give you a massage," she winked, and the smile dropped right from his face.

"What?" he ground out, on guard as he crossed his arms and tensed his body. His voice dropped low. "Where do you intend to massage me?"

"Where you will like it most, of course," Remi laughed, strutting over to him happily.

He took a step back, his eyes clouding over. "And who told you about this? Back in the hot springs, you were clueless—similar to how you are with most things."

Remi was far too excited to take the bait of his insult. "Does it matter? Okay, lay on the bed."

Killure glared hard at her. "No, I'm not laying on the bed while you . . . do what, exactly? You do know that many masters touch those of my species right there right before they kill them, to catch them off guard and make them vulnerable and unable to fight back, don't you?"

Remi grabbed his arm and tried to pull him to the bed, but he wouldn't move. It was like trying to pull a boulder--uphill.

"C'mon, Killure! This is why it's a trust exercise."

He eyed her sharply. "And if someone bursts through the door and tries to kill you while I'm out of it, what are you going to do, hmm? Kill them with kindness? Rest assured, that's quite a useless weapon."

Remi shrugged. "We're in a ship! What's the worst that could happen?"

"A siren could break in."

"That's not going to happen! The captain didn't pay us and feed us just to feed us to his sirens."

After a few moments of staring at her with narrowed eyes, Killure finally grumbled, "Fine. You're my master and I'm here to obey you. But let me remind you that I protested."

"Great!" she cheered, trying once again to drag him to the bed. He still refused to move. "What's wrong?"

His cheeks were slightly flushed. "I'm not laying on the fucking bed. That would be humiliating." The sigh he let out was loud and clearly full of annoyance as he turned around and faced the wall, bracing himself against it with his forearms and hanging his head. All the while, Remi watched, entranced, as the muscles of his back clenched and unclenched as he moved. "Well, get on with it, doll."

Remi trailed her fingers up his arms, and he shivered in response. "I can't do much of anything unless you take off your shirt." It was too tight for her for her to feel for any knots he might have in his back.

Remi had no idea where her boldness was coming from, but she liked it.

His body stiffened. "I don't . . . fine, but at least . . . " He reached over and squeezed the wick of the candle that had been lighting up that side of the room, extinguishing the flame. A dark shadow settled over them, barely affected by the other smaller candle burning raggedly on the other side of the room.

In one quick motion, Killure yanked both of his shirts up and over his head, tossing them to the floor. "Happy?" he snarled quietly, still facing the wall.

She could hardly see him in the darkness, his caramel skin melting into the shadows. However, she could definitely feel the heat radiating from his body.

Working up her nerves, Remi brought her hands up to his upper back.

"Happy."