The book I was reading was from the old world, before humanity’s fall. It was a rarity; many books burned during the winters following the apocalypse. I made a habit of collecting those that had not. So many things were lost from those days, so much technology forgotten to us. Within the book's pages were many forms of mechanical transportation, even moving stairs. There were buildings so tall they reached the sky and miniature computers that could communicate or tell their user anything within the collective human knowledge. All this had been normal, easily possessed by all people, even children.

And we lost all of it. Civilization torn apart by basic urges, humanity's greatest achievements tossed away. The thought made me want to cry. I couldn't understand how such a simple thing could drive people to such madness. How could I? I was the only one immune to my own poison.

Addiction was responsible for the old world’s end, at least, that was what the government said. I was taught that well by one of my captors, who’d thrown a set of teacups at me after his wife left him, screaming it was my fault. Nevermind the depression that drove him to seek me out, nor the desperation that made him sell my touch. He hadn’t smiled after that, not until he overdosed. He died grinning like a fool.

I was ‘Anna’ then. ‘Joy’ after that. With each new name, I hoped for a new life to follow. ‘Desire’ was the only one.

Both my reading and musing were interrupted by the click of claws on stone. My chamber door opened, allowing the white lycan to step inside. He turned on his haunches before falling back against the wall with a huff. I frowned, eyeing him over the pages of my book.

"What's your problem?" I let my irritation show through my tone. He knew better than to disturb my reading.

"The others grow restless," he growled. "They haven't tasted blood since Estil."

"And?" I already knew the lycans' normally ritualistic sparring had grown steadily more violent in their boredom. It wasn't my fault Perimone was yet to realize the source of his longing and send word.

The lycan glared at me. "And I grow restless as well. You've been neglecting me."

I huffed and rolled my eyes before looking back down at my book as if to resume reading. "As becoming as begging is to you, Cerberus, you sound like a nagging wife."

A low snarl was my only warning before I was tackled from my bed, landing hard on the stone floor. I gasped, trying to regain the breath knocked from my lungs. An instant ache spread through my body. A heavy weight pinned me down, arms held in place by furred limbs. My senses were flooded with a thick, canine musk, laced with the scents of earth and pine.

"More demanding," the lycan growled, teeth clashing dangerously close to my face. "I don't nag, nor beg."

With a snort, I pulled one of my hands from under his paw and casually brushed it across his nose. I forced a frown on my features as I glared into his blood-colored eyes, trying to hide my pounding heart. A low rumble of warning vibrated his chest when I pulled away. I raised my eyebrows but didn't give him the satisfaction of ordering my compliance.

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His free hand gripped at my neck, forcing my head to turn to the side with his long claws. A wet tongue pressed to my unmasked face and slid up my cheek. I grimaced. His breath reeked of rotting flesh. I could barely breathe. My stomach turned. I fought the tears welling up in my eyes, knowing he would taste them and realize my fear as his elongated canines scraped against my skin. Thankfully, he pulled away before they could fall.

"I'm not like the others," the lycan snarled. "One touch isn't enough anymore. Every time I need more. I don't know if I can be satisfied."

I turned my face, angry facade returning. It was the only mask I currently had. I yanked my other hand free to shove against his chest with all my might. He willingly stood, allowing me to get to my feet as well. My eyes narrowed as I stared him down.

"Next time you decide to take liberties you’re not allowed, you'll find yourself with a mouthful of my blood. We'll see then if you can be satisfied."

I turned on my heels and marched from the room. I could only hope my trembling was not visible to his keen eyes.

***

Claws at my face. Teeth at my neck. I couldn't run, nor move. I was tied, secured to a tree with thick ropes. They kept me prisoner, even as I desperately struggled to get away. But there was no escape as the albino lycan went for the kill.

Padded hands gripped my arms, holding me as I thrashed about.

"Desire."

I stilled, opening my eyes to stare into pigment-less irises. Cerberus leaned forward. The whiskers of his snout brushed the side of my face.

"You shouldn't cry so loudly," he growled in my ear. "You sound like prey."

I swallowed, suppressing a shiver. My hand slipped between us and pushed his chest until he released me. I looked away from the lycan as I took a deep breath to calm myself from the dream. Even though I wasn't watching him, I knew Cerberus was staring at me.

"What frightened you?" he asked, his tone unreadable.

I nearly laughed. I couldn't tell him that he was the subject of my nightmares, always so similar to the time we first met.

"I wasn't afraid." It was a lie. Perhaps he even knew, I was too upset to be any good at deceit. But I continued on, "These are tears of anger. These tears feed my desire for revenge." I turned to look him in the eye. Lying to his face didn't bother me, I rarely told the truth anyway. "In my dreams I’m killing my enemies, placing my pain on them before silencing their cries."

He watched me with keen, emotionless eyes. Or was there something there? It was so hard to tell anymore. I stared back, refusing to break contact. After a minute, he stepped back, pulling the thick drapes around my bed.

I was acting again. Like a puppet dropped from its puppeteer's hand, I collapsed onto my bed, only able to rest once I was out of sight. My body curled into a tight ball. I almost wished for a blanket to hide under, though my fear of becoming entangled kept me from requesting it. It bothered me that, even as the master of miles of territory and a fierce race, I still felt no true sense of control. It was all just an act, and I feared the day my audience saw my strings.