The second her fingers brushed it, Killure let out a strangled moan, his tense body relaxing ever so slightly.

Feeling more confident, Remi began kneading her palms in his back to to warm his back and loosen the tense muscles. She then trailed her fingers lightly down to the base of his back, and then, while applying firm, smooth pressure, she walked her thumbs up on either side of his spine.

"Fuck," he gritted out, relaxing entirely into her touch and unable to protest further.

Remi grinned as she moved to the right side of his upper back, using her forefingers to push out from his spine to his shoulder blades, and began kneading firmly.

Moans left Killure's mouth every few seconds now, and Remi could feel her face burning.

Once she'd addressed all the knots there, Remi began making her way to the other side of his back, following the same process so that both sides would feel even and balanced.

Then, all of a sudden, Killure's wings burst from his back, tearing open his skin as they emerged in their full glory. They were huge, stretching far on either side. The ripped skin quickly mended itself, surrounding the base of his wings.

Remi yanked her hands back in surprise, unsure of what to do. Bliss had said something about wings coming out, hadn't she?

A dark, searing hand grabbed Remi's wrist. He pulled it up to the base of his wings, growling, "Don't stop." His voice was almost delirious, and it took Remi a couple seconds to regain her composure before she began working that part his wings. She didn't really know what to do, having never massaged a creature like him before, but decided it couldn't hurt to try.

She trailed her fingers in long, smooth strokes up the base of his wings, and Killure's entire body began trembling, as though it was taking everything in him to keep himself upright and on his feet.

Finally, in one gruff motion, he scooped Remi up and set her on the bed, before readying himself in front of her, laying on his stomach with his arms out in front of him.

Laughing, Remi reached her hands back up and continued massaging his back, applying more pressure this time. His loud groan was enough to let her know she was doing what he wanted.

She found it odd that while most of an Icix's skin was so thick and hard, their backs were so soft and sensitive.

As the minutes went by, Killure slowly began leaning back into her, until his head was in her lap, with his body spread out before him.

He'd fallen asleep.

His face was peaceful and solemn, and his body entirely relaxed. Remi giggled at his sleeping form, and ran her hands through his curly hair.

When the temperature began to drop and goosebumps spread over her arms, Remi attempted to manoeuvre herself out from under Killure. He didn't even stir.

Shaking his shoulder gently, Remi whispered, "Come on, Killure, I need to get you to the couch."

He was more than twice as big as she was and weighed a lot more, so Remi knew she had no chance of getting him there without his help.

He peered up at her through delirious, half-lidded eyes, his far too wide smile back in place. He appeared almost drunk.

"Couch? I'm comfy here," he murmured, his words slurred as he closed his eyes.

"You can't sleep here," Remi rolled her eyes, grabbing an arm and trying to tug him off the bed.

Of course he remained where he was, without moving an inch.

"You . . . grabbed my arm at the pool, too," he whispered with a smirk. "In that tiny swimsuit . . . I could hardly . . . had to jump in quick."

Remi grumbled to herself, letting go of him. He let out another string of words, but these were even more mumbled and she didn't understand any of them.

Finally, after a lot of coaxing, Killure stumbled off of the bed, his arm wrapped around her shoulder as they walked.

"Pretty, pretty master," he said beneath his breath, eyes blank and hazy, as if he was in a different place in his mind.

Remi almost buckled under his weight a few times, but somehow managed to stay on her feet.

When they finally reached the couch, Killure refused to get on. He pulled her close and didn't let go, then fell asleep while standing.

"Killure," Remi ground out, prying herself out of his arms. "Just get on the couch."

He stumbled backwards and fell into the couch, half leaning back with his legs spread.

His eyes always seemed so dark and intense, but right now they were glazed over, and he was entirely out of it.

Remi doubted he'd remember any of this in the morning.

So this was what he'd meant when he said that touching his back near where his wings come out would make him vulnerable. If she wanted to—and she most certainty did not—she could bring a knife to his neck in this state and he'd let her slit his throat without blinking.

He could hardly stand on his own two feet, and seemed to be in a state of bliss that left him completely out of it.

Grabbing a golden-coloured blanket off the side of the couch, Remi held it out to him, but he was staring straight at her.

Or through her. It was hard to tell.

"Why don't you . . . warm me . . . up, doll?" he flashed her a wicked smile, clumsily reaching for her and almost falling off the couch in the process.

Remi took a step back and rolled her eyes. "Just lay down, please. I'm sure the blanket will be warm once you actually get under it."

Killure wouldn't stop staring at her. He slowly stood up, wobbling on his feet for a moment before getting back his balance.

Remi felt like smacking herself in the face. She wasn't making any progress here.

Suddenly, he was only a few inches away from her, playing with one of her strawberry locks. "You really . . . look . . . like one."

Remi's heart nearly beat out of her chest, and curiosity got the better of her. "One what?"

"A doll," he smirked loosely, though she almost didn't understand him with the jumbled way he was talking. "So stupid and naive and weak—pathetically weak—but perfect. Perfect everything."

Remi's face heated, and although her mind was screaming at her to take a step back, her feet wouldn't move. It was as if the floor beneath her was covered in sticky glue, and she was stuck. Rooted in place by some invisible force.

And then Killure's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fell face first onto the couch, nearly knocking into Remi. He landed with his limbs sprawled in disarray and one of his wings was bent beneath him. It didn't look comfortable.

Sighing, Remi bent over and tried to rearrange him as best she could. She moved his legs onto the couch, and put his arms by his sides, and pulled his wing out from under him. The ebony feathers were silky smooth in her fingers, and almost velvety to the touch.

Getting the blanket to stay on him without sliding down his wings and off the couch was a chore, but eventually she got it to stay. It would probably fall off during the night.

Taking a step back and rolling her aching shoulders, Remi peered down at him.

He was terrifying, dangerous, and full of so many horrible things . . . even now, despite how peaceful his expression was, the deathly sharpness of his jaw, narrow, bladed nose, and feral curl of his lips still made him dangerous.

But the fear inside Remi was slowly becoming less potent. It didn't consume her like before when she looked at him. Now all she had to do was bite it down and shove it back down into her gut, and she wouldn't feel so overcome by it.

Rubbing at her tired eyes, Remi walked over to the fancy bed and got beneath the light blankets. She was asleep before her head hit the soft, fluffy pillow.