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"Pouty? Who is she?" She asked, curiously.

In the silence that followed, Ismena became sure that he would not answer her.

Then, "A small girl. I do not know her name, so I referred to her as Pouty in my drugged mind, eighteen years ago. She was so small. Seven or eight, probably. She was always pouting...and talking. Talks too much in that little voice of hers."

"She was one of the...experiments?"

His head nodded. Once. "Not at first."

An ugly feeling rose inside him. So dark and ugly, he snapped the door closed again. "I cannot talk about the little girl. I do not want to." He cannot bear to... especially tonight.

Ismena bobbed her head in understanding, not wanting to pressure him especially after he just released the painful memories of his sister.

"Okay." She whispered.

Silence descended again.

He turned away from her, hoping she would stop touching him. His demands for her were increasing by the minute.

His body demands for her to heal him.

His wolf demands for her to soothe them.

His head demands for her to erase his memories...even if it's just for this night.

This woman behind him has no idea the kind of fire she is playing with. He is barely hanging on a thread. "Go to bed, Ismena."

"No." She wrapped her arms around his back, stepping so close to him that her body touched his.

Taking a step away from her which in turn severed all physical contact with her, he whirled around and faced her again. "You have no idea what you are asking for. Go away, Ismena. Go into that room now that I am giving you a chance."

A shiver worked down her spine at the harsh, angry command. She was nervous all the way to her throat.

But, she didn't move. "That night... in the balcony, you gave me instructions to follow. Do you remember? You can give me more of those instructions, tonight. I will follow all of them."

"That was different. My díck was not buried inside you." He stated bluntly. But, the reminder of that night in the balcony has his díck lengthening to painful degrees.

"Maybe." She admitted, her nervousness skyrocketing.

He is right, she might not know what she is asking for considering all that surrounds them. But she knows for sure that she does not want to go to bed...alone...tonight.

She also knows that talking to him is not getting them anywhere.

So, she did the next impulsive thought that came to her head.

Her eyes holding his, Ismena raised her hands to the knot that held her towel together...

"What do you think you are do—"

The rest of the words never made it past his throat as the towel unwrapped from her body and dropped on the floor.

He lost it.

One moment he was talking, the next, he has her pushed to the wall beside the bed, his arms wrapped around her and his tongue buried deep inside her mouth.

Ismena knew she has won.

But victory came with fear of the unknown and nervousness of what thisnight will be.