Noah was a Tigermouse, and though she had never been exactly the most knowledgeable of people when it came to maiden breeds, even a toddler could tell you the basics. A maiden that wielded psychic energies that craved physical contact, the Tigermouse had the power to establish links with others. And through these links they could help teams to talk to one another, or even share emotions. If the maiden was an experienced one, the link could also be used in combat.

Noah had no clue what she was doing, however, so she could only really rely on her breed’s extremely deft hands, sharp senses, and their preternatural ability to detect danger.

With the guards increasing in numbers in the area, she had to move with care. She covered her body in mud and slunk her way between houses, down streets, carefully sticking to walls. Her mind kept screaming danger from all around. The guards weren’t picking up on any hot trails, which left them highly alert and moving warily as they attempted to find their prey.

Bit by bit, the mousy woman moved away from the hot-zone.

Each corner was a threat from every direction, each beam of light a potential end to her discretion. Her heart hammered against her small chest with a speed and force that would have killed a human, her every step filled with hesitation before she’d commit and rush from one cover to the next.

Seconds turned to minutes, then an hour, and then two. None had caught her, none had spotted her. They were looking for things that were bigger, noisier. Brye’s illusions could still be heard off in the distance. But the fox was clearly winding down, moving the guard’s attention far away from…

…from here.

Noah froze as she realized she was looking at the safe-house. Just a building amongst many others, yet the one she’d meandered to without realizing it.

She could tell Mark was in there, probably Shery as well. Her breath caught in her throat. Had she really made this beeline without even realizing it? She was free, why had she been moving closer to Mark? To the true danger? Mark hadn’t given her orders to follow or come back. He hadn’t told her not to run away either. And it wasn’t like she was wearing a restraining black collar. She was free, she could run, she could escape them.

She could… she could go anywhere else.

She could have even handed herself over to the guards. Tell them everything. Maybe hope for an escape.

Maybe she’d get a chance to get revenge on…

Noah shook her head. Maybe she could just see how far she could go before the bond finally broke. She was free, she could get away. Her hands clenched, frozen, heart beating faster.

Free.

Free.

To do what?

She was cold, hungry, naked, covered in mud and who knew what else. She was rancid and… alone.

Alone.

That thought terrified her far more than being caught.

Noah’s mind reeled. She’d once walked these streets, hungry, homeless, desperate. She knew she had what it took to get back up, to climb her way to some semblance of power, of control. She’d just have to get out of the kingdom, make her way north, then east, cross the mountain-range through Guenes.

If the bond broke, she was sure she could find someone else. A weaker bond, one that would mess with her head far less. Just get away, run, and-.

She squeaked as the door to the house opened.

Mark stood at the doorway, warm light shining behind him and framing his darkened expression with his red hair. His gaze peered into the darkness of the street, looking for something even if he didn’t know what. Weak human eyes that couldn’t see.

Noah had taken a step forward and into the beam of light shining from the house before she’d been able to stop herself.

Their eyes met. He was surprised, and she froze in place. She could run, she could still run, just cover her ears and run. Ignore any orders he gave. Escape that bubbling concern and possessiveness that was now pinning her in place as if she’d been chained to him.

Rather than run, she took another step closer.

She was waiting, anticipating, breath held tight and heart deafeningly loud.

“You made it.”

Those three words ignited something inside Noah.

She didn’t want to be alone.

Her senses pulled her closer to Mark, her mind brushing against him and sensing his emotions. The storm had returned. Out of all the swirling mass of confusion, she locked onto the relief he felt for her. Her feet took another step forward. Noah nearly fell, but froze back in place when Mark moved out of the house to cover the remaining distance.

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He grabbed her hand, there was no fight inside her.

Mark pulled them into the house. The door closed behind them with a certainty that locked Noah’s fate. Shery spoke with irritation, but the mouse wasn’t listening. Her heart was a drum, her body was hot, a strange warm hunger was growing within her as Mark practically dragged her through the house.

The entirety of her focus was on his hand. So big and warm, wrapped around her own, guiding her. The rest of the world just slipped through her fingers. Dimly she realized she’d been taken to a washroom.

“Clean up.”

The door closed with a thud, Noah squeaked, alone again.

With the immediacy of Mark’s presence gone, her thoughts came back to her in a whirlwind. Too many words, too many thoughts, too many conflicting emotions. Her body moved, obeying instinctively, but her mind was in a thousand places at once. She moved the cold wet cloth across her body while she tried, and failed, to fight back against the tide of images of the past month. Of the sensation of Mark’s desire aimed squarely at her, yet him holding himself back each time.

Were their roles reversed, she would have jumped him. She would’ve used her short slender figure to drink in everything. To share the hot pleasure of release as they joined and-.

Noah hastily shook her head, realizing the direction her thoughts had taken. She’d wanted to think of the scene as she’d once been, human and male, yet that was becoming an increasingly foreign concept to her. It was a knowledge that felt more academic, something she’d read in a book. Noah the human would have raped Noah the mouse in a heartbeat, that was what would have happened.

Noah the mouse felt a degree of abhorrence to the notion. Again, instincts warred within her. The bond, her body, her mind, her very soul felt like it was trying to fight against the tide.

She was a Tigermouse, she knew, her breed craved the physical contact of others. She knew, deep down, that she’d been starved of that. Mark had starved her, unknowingly, he’d sought to humiliate her for her transgression and instead she’d become ravenous. She was a mouse, but she felt ravenous, almost desperate. Her instincts ate away at her, a need she had no control over.

It made it no less effective, however.

She turned her thoughts to her past, to the anger she’d felt at him. Back when she’d recently turned, back when she’d yet to bond. Mark had promised her an end to the torture, the shame, the fear. And then snatched it away from her. He’d used her.

But…

Noah shook her head.

No.

No, she couldn’t. She couldn’t let herself follow those thoughts down that path. Her skin ached, Mark’s eyes dancing within her mind. The naked desire and self-restraint.

Hadn’t she learnt her lesson already? Everyone was there to be used by someone else, usually by someone better. That was how she’d ended up working for the Boss. The man was never seen, but his power amongst the gangs and criminals was absolute. Having that power backing you up was a strength in of itself… wasn’t it? Noah the human had used the Boss’ power to add to his own.

That was how it always worked.

Another shake of the head. No, that was the bond talking, trying to trick her, to push her. Her head stopped as her eyes landed on the only reflective surface in the room. A mirror, a luxury that had likely been added for whatever fat-cat happened to use the safe-house.

Standing in front of the mirror, she looked at herself properly for the first time since she was hit by the Curse of Eve.

She was a perfect representation of her breed. Noah the maiden had a face devoid of the burn scars that had once been a mark of pride, a sign of the monsters Noah the human had fought and survived. She had a pretty face, almond shaped, wide expressive eyes, a button nose, and a small cute mouth. Her body screamed weakness. She was short, barely five feet tall if one counted the large round mousy ears atop her head. Her metallic gray hair had grown out down to her shoulders, swaying against her almost porcelain skin.

She was unmarred. Nearly twenty years of hardships had once upon a time covered her old body in scars and old burns. Proof of the life the old human Noah had lived, of the tests and trials that had been overcome. Now there was nothing, only the smooth perfect skin of a woman, a maiden. Of bare, tender small breasts and modest hips, almost as if a doll.

As she looked into her gray irises, she tried to find the memory of the appearance of that old human Noah, of an image of who that person was. To try and, perhaps, compare herself to that life that felt more distant every time she thought of it.

Only the barest details bubbled to the surface, the memory of that old body like water slipping between her fingers. A jolt of fear rushed through her. She turned away from her reflection.

What else would slip? Already the thought of that old male burned face was too vague to remember anything other than the scars.

She moved to leave the presence of the mirror, with moisture still clinging to her skin as she stepped towards the warmer living room.

Her hesitation grew when she spotted Mark lounging on a chair in front of the fireplace. Her mind reached out to his through the bond, not finding any resistance in his distraught state. His thoughts were troubled, his emotions turbulent, his body tense and tired. She read his concerns like one read a book. It had been a long and dangerous chase, needless risks caused by his own mistake. Even if they were safe now, they couldn’t know if they would be tomorrow.

The longing for his touch came back to her, a desire for mutual comfort that found no rope or wire to restrain her. Like a moth drawn to a flame, Noah quietly stepped closer, her small feet quiet against the otherwise creaky floor. The thoughts coalesced as she felt his eyes turning to her, desire mixing in with the rest of his thoughts.

The doubt vanished instantly. She… was a maiden. Whatever that meant, Noah the human was gone, no more than a memory.

Noah the Tigermouse sat on the floor in front of Mark’s chair. Carefully, she leaned back against his leg. The heat of his skin seeped through her more deeply than the fire. The gnawing ravenous thirst for contact was soothed, if partially. She waited for Mark to shove her off, push her away, or to at least react in some way.

He didn’t. He acknowledged her presence for only long enough to recognize she wasn’t trying anything and turned back to look at the flickering flames and focus on the troubles ahead.

Noah let out a sigh she hadn’t realized she’d been holding onto. She relaxed further into the feeling of his skin as she crossed her legs to get comfortable, the nakedness forgotten in favor of the man she was bonded to.

She too wasn’t sure what awaited for them in the future.