There was no denying it any longer. During the end of that first year she felt his pull.

A year of PhaHks and she had learned...

Next to nothing.

Physiologically, Rhengar had made great progresses in understanding the species called Human. The nervous system, the musculature and skeletal structures, brain processes, respiratory tract, reproductive system, blood work, all carefully studied and very, very carefully recorded with triple geometric encryptions.

Not even Veexow had the entry codes.

She'd insisted on the precautions. Rhengar kept the codes, she kept the micro-crystallic that contained all they knew of him.

It was set into the bracelet she had worn all the time during his presence. It fit perfectly. It looked like it belonged.

But it contained none of the things she most wanted to know: the inner workings of his mind. Not his *brain*, the fleshy lump suspended in fluid and membrane, but those unseen, unrevealed motivations that were still his last secrets.

She knew nothing of his home as it had been and as he had seen it in his time, or his life there, though she suspected that he would refuse to discuss it under any circumstances.

Veexow had insight enough to know that it would distress him to do so.

So many truths still kept to himself.

That was the pull.

His undefinable, ethereal, impossible to isolate human gravity had caught her up in its invisible influence. Deny it she might, he had inch by inch crawled inside her and settled.

It was tantalizing.

And, she believed, a bit dangerous.

What was he after all, but a blood and bone creature? He was only human.

THE only human. In her time, the last of his species. Left to the Ferengi's, he would have remained so, a piece of unfortunate history. Unattainable.

Veexow had never been one to resist a challenge and PhaHks had proved to be just that.

This intelligent, antagonizing, argumentative, stubborn, emotionally exhausting human had driven her, at times, into rages by his very proximity.

And, by his very proximity, he had taken up residence in her mind and soul and it was too late to expunge him.

Insanity though it was, she didn't want to.

Not when she saw his brows, down swept like the wings of the Staa'l bird on its bursting forth from the Plaine, pulled toward surface from the weight of the briny water.

Not when she saw the eyes beneath them, color fluctuating according body temperature; blood pressure; mood.

Not when she could taste his scent and had come to crave the flavor of it. Or felt his cool skin against hers whenever by chance he would brush a hand against her or she, by design, against him.

Not when she studied the languid movements of his muscled yet fragile structure.

Not when she could feel the quick thrills of her body whenever she caught a glimpse of his maleness.

He was human. He was weak.

But, against her will, she thought him beautiful.

But she did not take him. Wanted to.

More, however, was her un-Romulan need for him to want her.

With a simple look, he influenced her. With unconscious touch, aroused her unawares.

This alien captive, this imprisoned curiosity, the human with the hate-filled eyes, displayed his sexuality only to her. She alone possessed the ability to see it.

That this should occur infuriated her, however innocent his beauty, however unconscious his offering.

Taking up his position at her private center, she so wanted him. He displaced all other need.

Work, duty, Rhengar, were all common, ordinary and vulgar.

Her power was nothing in his orbit.

His control, that held her bound helplessly in agony, existed because she let it. She'd abdicated to him.

So it was him. Oh, yes, it was greatly him.

But it was her too.

Hadn't she always wanted to see and know the genuine thing?

*Be careful what you ask for...* Where had she heard that?

Now she thirsted for more than mere knowledge. She wanted touch and time consuming exploration.

Even in the face of his obvious distaste for her, her hunger remained.

It would be so easy to take by force but her desire did not rest with the merely physical. She yearned for the spiritual, the puzzling, non-corporeal "heart" he'd once spoken of. A figurative, undefined word that somehow held the essence of his humanness. She wanted to go within, be captured in its embrace and sustained in that most powerful and most frail portion of PhaHks.

That's what she wanted and did not know how to obtain.

She had PhaHks but didn't. Wanted PhaHks yet was thwarted.

Daily seeing him, listening to his voice, loving his strangeness, catching his scent...

...little touches...

Exquisite torture.

She compensated for her weakness, even as she hated her own actions, by being remote and cold.

Sometimes, even cruel.

She still had her rages.

"PhaHks." She'd been too busy with another unexpected visit by members of her endless parade of relatives, though only a two week inconvenience this time, to have seen him at all. Though by no means had she wanted the forced separation.

Keeping him isolated and concealed in his rooms was his only protection.

Never admitting her secret thoughts even to herself was her only refuge from her attraction to him, a weakness she despised.

He'd protested this confinement too, as always, with arguments, attempts at bargaining and finally, shouting, anger, to which she had answered with a carefully measured blow.

It astonished her that her discipline increasingly did little to discourage his outbursts. She continued to try, as rarely as was necessary, to domesticate him, but violence had quickly become a useless countermeasure to his own formidable will.

She knew, of course, that he hated being locked away. Understood that he had his own mind and wanted things just as she did, wanted to own himself.

He was sentient, highly intelligent (for a human) and needed more than just four walls to keep sanity together.

Veexow didn't believe he really understood the danger of his presence being discovered anywhere, let alone on the Romulan home world.

If found out, he'd be executed without trial or conscience. Her fate might be nearly as bad.

She felt a pang of guilt at her own deceit toward her superiors, but, once she'd started on a course, she rarely deviated. And, over the former years and since she'd found PhaHks and actually began to know and understand this pure-strain, her own doubts about the Final Judgement had multiplied.

Rhengar was the only one with whom she ever even hinted regarding her true feelings on the matter. And Rhengar was loyal to his last drop of blood.

As were her trusted family servants.

Here only, sometimes free to roam her mansion, sometimes locked away from sight, was the humans only sanctuary.

She entered his dwelling room. "PhaHks."

He was lying on his side on his bed, not asleep. He had long ago ceased to rise in alarm whenever she made an appearance. Not out of trust she knew, but simple human insolence.

She moved to the bed. Noticed that his bruised cheek had healed up from their latest battle.

He watched her, not answering but moved his legs aside a little to make room when she sat down.

"Servant tells me you have not eaten your meals for several days. Is this some new human physical phase or a test of wills?"

"Not hungry." He seemed uninterested in conversation.

Already she could see the meat melting off him again. After months of building him up.

"Not hungry? Servant tells me you have also been sleeping inordinately long hours. It is this "depression" again?"

"Can't imagine why I'd be depressed."

Veexow caught the irony, had learned its nuances.

"The confinement ended five days ago, yet you take no exercise. Are you certain you're not ill?"

He sat up, since it appeared she wasn't going to make it a short talk. Her nearness bothered him.

Sighing deeply he shook his head "no" in answer to which part of the question she was uncertain.

"Your body needs food and exercise, I expect you to indulge in both."

He rested his head in his hands. "I don't - I'm not up to it." Talking was too much effort.

Veexow sat nearer and took his chin in one efficient hand.

Face, thin and getting thinner. Eyes, red-veined. Parlor, pale.

"What is wrong, PhaHks? You've undergone restricted confinement before and it has never had this effect on you."

He tried to move his chin away from her touch but she held on. "I cannot allow you to continue fasting. I cannot allow you to become ill."

"Why the hell not?" he asked, irritated but immediately fell again into his stupor.

Veexow had welcomed his anger and was disappointed to see it vanish so quickly.

She took his face in both palms, turned his head from side to side, needlessly examining his sickly appearance. His smell drifted into her nostrils. A sweet fragrance, she breathed it deeply and felt her body answering.

Being this close to him...

She wanted him.

But the angry, voluble, ready to defy her PhaHks.

The PhaHks who slammed his fists into walls and faced her down again and again. Who bore her strikes and furiously came back for more. The PhaHks who let her know by the expression on his bruised face that her blows were a violation and an insult.

Not this slack-eyed, empty creature.

Yet his presence, only inches, was flippantly pulling her careful control asunder.

She held his face between her palms longer, until her hands warmed his cheeks.

Longer, until she thought she could feel his blood pumping just below his skin.

Longer, until she was certain she could feel his heart beating.

And longer, until she couldn't let go.

He blinked rapidly, her unusual touch jerking him out of his mental doldrums.

She could see the puzzlement on his features as she held him there, her own face a foot from his.

The surprise from within his always naked emotions as she leaned closer, her head tilting, lips lining up with his.

Saw his quiet shock as she pressed her mouth to his and let out a soft sigh when finally tasting him for the first time.

Sweet, alien mouth.

Then she saw the fear leap into his eyes as she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss and moaned in her pleasure of him. At his forbidden flavor.

Suddenly he turned even whiter and was pushing away and scrambling back, away from her touch.

Then across the room. Away from her.

She stood to follow, swept up in the fire of her fierce, Romulan need, a near uncontrollable force once ignited.

He stiffened as his senses came back to him; the fear in his eyes and the - was it disgust? - on his face; "Stay away from me."

It was a whisper but his will was screaming.

"I would not have hurt you, PhaHks." She was angry that he'd pulled away but wanted to salvage her pride and also that tiny spark of trust he'd shown her by allowing the touch to begin with.

"At least when you're hitting me, I'm safe." He answered.

The cryptic comment confused her for a moment until she realized that his words crudely echoed her own emotional conundrum.

She too, when she was striking with blows and not lips, felt in control of herself and him. This other left her open to doubt, danger, pain of soul and of course rejection which she'd just tasted.

He was feeling similarly vulnerable. Must be.

She moved closer to him, how to repair the damage?

"Don't ever touch me again." He warned, his voice contemptuous. Stricken.

Her anger flared and she went to him, raising the back of her hand. Hesitated.

"Don't touch me, you greasy vampire."

He had said it softly, daring her! Asking, egging her on, to hit him. It would make both of them feel comfortable again. Put things back in their proper place.

She struck but her blow was half-hearted and although it knocked him to the floor, he was unharmed.

She let her arm drop to her side.

"Feel better?" he mocked from below, glad things were back to normal.

Veexow searched and realized she felt, curiously, defeated.

She'd given him what he'd asked for. She'd done what he predicted - knew - she had to do to re- establish her control over him. It made her ever more furious. And, strangely, aroused at what he had inadvertently also helped her discover.

She needn't strike him anymore.

There were better ways to conquer.

"Get up!" she ordered.

He looked up at her, eyes satisfied with the return of routine mutual hatred.

Allowing him no opportunity to defy her she yanked him to his feet, shoving him hard back against the bulkhead. Her hands gripped like talons at his elbow joints, pinning him there.

Her tiny pupils locked onto his wide ones.

Predator to prey.

She studied his rumpled hair, rough, unshaven jaw, throat bobbing in nervousness. Felt his shallow, labored breathing; little puffs of air on her cheeks.

Felt her own even respirations. Superior strength. Stronger will.

Her two hands or just one word would grant him a particular pain or a type of freedom.

Punishment or reprieve.

He used his last offense and spit on her. She removing it from her own face by rubbing her wetted cheek on his, defeating even that small rebellion. Smiled.

It would be punishment.

Her eyes scanned his flesh, saw through his defenses, peered into his most secret parts. They travelled passed his throat, down his chest, over his abdomen and south.

She took her time, silently speaking, unveiling her intent. Allowing him to see plainly what it was she wanted and that if she only wished it, she could take it without permission.

It was...ooohhhh...so arousing to know that all that was separating her hands from his skin was a film-thin layer of cloth.

Which clung to and defined his sex. Shaped itself to his shapes. It folded and tucked in places she longed to touch, telling him so with a throaty rumble. Brushing the back of her hand against him, she groaned at her first feel of his silken shaft.

Taking it in her hand and teased him until he was hard.

So hard.

He gasped when she roughly clamped down her mouth hard on his. Rough and uncompromising, vicious teeth grating against his lips, hurting him, until he had no choice but to open. When she felt that surrender, she rewarded him by pressing even harder, forcing her tongue inside.

Using her body to glue him to the wall, her hands now invaded and pillaged. Under his shirt, along his chest, up and down his ribbed sides. Inside his pants, kneading his buttocks as he struggled futilely to shrug her off, violently cursing her, his only weapon left.

She laughed out loud at him and, her desire for him building, building.

Laughed again when his cursing ceased. Her win.

Then she was at his front, clutching his hardened organ, pumping him, making him feel pleasure under her cruel handling, until he whimpered.

Ignoring it, she mauled and bit, drawing blood from his lip and neck and chest.

She increased his involuntary thrusts, one hand on his backside, nearly lifting him off the floor. He was close and she knew it.

She'd brought him kicking and screaming to the edge of his own physical need.

Then she stopped and stepped back. Quickly.

He was shaking, ever so slightly. Trying not to. Looked like he might be sick.

She smiled an Imperial Romulan Commander's smile down on him, content with the fruits of her campaign.

She had overcome, swarmed through and vanquished him like a vengeful god.

She'd reaffirmed her power to shatter his resolve and re-enslave him or to free him whenever the will took her.

To prove it, she kissed him again and he didn't move, though this time she kept her hands at her sides, her body not crushing against him, not touching at all.

Her kiss was tender, gentle. Sweet on his bruised and swollen lips. She tasted his blood. Salty. Metallic. Earthy.

He was shaking and weak. She ended it because the destruction was sufficient.

Leaving him to finish himself off, if emotion and energy would allow, she passed through the door that slid aside to allow her egress.

Campaign complete. Retreat.

--------------------------------------------------------------------- **

PhaHks had the shakes for a long time after she was gone.

The revelation of what he was to her and of what little she had to do to take it, left him reeling and SICK!

He spent the next few minutes throwing up stomach fluid all over the polished floor.

Finally, his strength returned and he got to his feet. Had to get away. One way or another.

Tonight he'd go exploring again, since his door was left open all the time now. He'd find a way out or make one. A weapon of some kind maybe.

He'd explored the whole place before but he was more determined than ever now for lots of new reasons. Had to succeed this time.

HAD to.

***

Grandpa Mulder'd died at sixty-two. Heart attack.

Uncle Samuel at sixty-four. Cardiovascular disease.

Dad dead (albeit from a gunshot to the head), while pushing sixty. But hadn't he been taking medicine? He'd looked bad that night. Probably heart.

Stressed out herd - the Mulders.

He could look forward to twenty-five years, maybe.

If he was good.

If he didn't eat the wrong things (what a laugh), and he got eight hours a night, and he didn't strain his ticker by over-doing the exercise.

The ol' pump was at a hundred and ten percent right then, kicking at his chest-wall like a hoof.

Still he ran.

Not far *enough*. Not *fast* enough.

Calf and thigh muscles would cramp and spasm and make him stumble. He'd just get up and start again. Reckless. Uncaring.

A taste of freedom is all that had gone through his mind when he'd awakened in the middle of the night and done his wandering. Hellbitch had unlocked his door, so...that was signal for him to go where he pleased whenever he damn well pleased it.

She hadn't said anything about middle of the night haunts but - screw it - this playing "keeper-of-the- specimen" thing wasn't gonna go by the book if he had anything to say about it. Not by her rules.

Not by a long shot.

Besides, being the sole exhibit consisted mainly of boredom. And her unwanted fire-eaten eyes.

Stomach rotting NUH!-thing to do in between visits from Hellbitch.

So when he spotted the little servant girl furtively tapping in whatever code or inscription it was on the keypad to the door that he knew led outside!, he'd - oh! - so carefully and - oh! - so quietly followed her through it.

That huge metal panel had silently slide aside, ushering in all that dry, cool early dawn air and, taking his body in its tendrils, carried him out.

Unfortunately, she'd seen him.

Then he'd seen her.

Sunshine. His nickname for her toothy grin.

She'd been transferred to "Kitchen Duty" and they hadn't exchanged grins for months.

When she'd been assigned to clean his rooms, he had expressed surprise at the tiny little thing. She couldn't have been more than twelve.

<< "I won't bite." he said to her, knowing she probably wouldn't understand and leave anyway.

But she didn't.

"I'm sorry. I guess I'm kind of in the way, just didn't feel like going for a run this morning." Didn't *feel* much of anything.

PhaHks lay down on his bed and snoozed as she cleaned around him.

The next day, when she came, she brought her little pet. Something that looked like a very fat ferret road around on her boney shoulder while she went about her duties.

Soon it became his habit to be sure he was there when she came. She brought her little pet sometimes, sometimes not. But always bright eyes and a fresh face.

One day when she came, he slowly worked his way to where she was sweeping, her little pet balanced perfectly on her thin frame, digging in its claws for support. She didn't seem to mind.

When he reached out a hand to pet the creature, it squeaked in alarm but then stretched out its head for more. The animal's cry had made her turn in alarm too, but when she saw his obvious admiration for her best friend, she quickly relaxed, smiling at her happy pet.

Then smiled at him, revealing a mouth full of crooked teeth.

PhaHks' heart broke, not because it made her ugly, on the contrary, it endeared her to him more, but because for all the technology that must exist in Hellbitch's world, no one seemed to think it necessary to fix them for her.

But her smile was unabashed, wide as the horizon, and shined like the sun.

Sunshine he began to call her.

Every day she came each day bringing a smile, and a laugh at "Fromooohhh.", her name for the fuzzy thing. PhaHks re-christened it "Fat Fromoh", because of its waddling girth.

And she brought him a smile. It felt good to see them and even better giving them back, his 'smile muscles' twitching from misuse.

Occasionally, she'd babble out a long sentence in her gibberish language and he'd answer in his which baffled her.

Small talk that neither understood creating a bond neither expected. A little bud of joy took root in him and that, too, was unexpected.

Forty minutes a day of watering the bud. That was what her visits did to him.

Veexow came one morning which was not her habit and found him weaving something out of the strips he'd made from a shirt he'd obviously sacrificed for whatever was his project.

"What are you doing, PhaHks?"

"Making something."

"Making what?"

"It's for the cleaning girl."

Veexow sighed. Always it was five of her questions to gain one complete answer of his. "And what are you making for the cleaning servant?"

"A mat for her shoulder. Something to protect it from her pets claws."

"Why?"

""Why"? Haven't you seen the scratches? She loves that animal."

Veexow looked at it. "No, I hadn't."

"Well, *I* did and this will keep her from getting more scars. Doesn't she have a mother?"

"No, I believe she was raised as a house servant from birth."

Strange answer. "House servants have no mothers?"

"Sometimes they do. This one doesn't."

PhaHks finished his handiwork as they spoke, tying the ends together and tucking them out of sight in the weave.

Veexow approved of the workmanship. Neat and clean if basic. "Why did you not ask me for something to give to her?"

"Because then it won't really be a gift from *me*. I want to give her something I made myself."

Veexow felt a tiny charge of annoyance at his indulgence of the girl. It would not do to spoil a servant of her caste.

PhaHks had never shown the inclination to create anything for her. And she sensed he did not want her around when time came for the bestowal.

"When you are finished with this, join me for the midday meal." Not a request.

He nodded once. The reminder was unnecessary as they almost always ate together.

When Sunshine arrived PhaHks presented his gift to her.

She smiled a neglected twelve year olds smile. Surprised and shy, then delighted and possessive. She even let him help her strap it on.

PhaHks had made Sunshine special for a day.

She took him by surprise with an impulsive hug.

PhaHks was almost too moved to respond, then gave her a warm squeeze. It was the best, best reward he could have received for so little time and effort. It was wonderful.

She was his morning light and her smile was a warmth he carried inside each day.

*

"Where's Sunshine?"

"What?"

"The Cleaning Girl, she didn't come today, is she sick?" PhaHks tried to keep the worry out of his voice and doing a poor job of it.

"No."

"Then where is she?"

Veexow did not look at him, but continued to eat.

"She cleans in another section of the estate now."

PhaHks' heart raced from worry to horror to devastation without the slightest sign of their passage across his face.

"When did this happen?"

"Yesterday."

The day after he had given Sunshine a second gift, a collar and leash for her pet.

"You did it on purpose, didn't you?" *You cold, heartless bitch!*

"I often rotate servants, PhaHks."

"Interesting that you rotated her away from me. She never did anything to you."

He had never mentioned the hug to her, it had been his and Sunshine's happy secret. Hellbitch got his brain and his soul but not his affection. That was for Sunshine and no one else.

"Where in the estate? Where is she working in the house?"

"I had her rotated to kitchen duty."

Kitchen duty! Hot, laborious, grinding work that would run a skinny baby girl to bones.

"Where is that?"

"It is off limits to any but kitchen servants, PhaHks."

*I'm not surprised you goddamn FUCKING WHORE!* It took all of his control not to wrap his fingers around her aristocratic throat.

"You had no reason. You have no right to keep her from me."

"I have no right?!" One clawed appendage gripped his wrist painfully. "I do exactly as I please with my servants and I'll do exactly as I please with YOU!"

PhaHks was murderous and yet he did nothing. COULD do nothing.

The evil Bitch shuffled everyone's lives like a deck of cards.

"Control. It's a drug for you, isn't it?"

"It is about keeping things in their proper place." She let his arm go.

"And you can't stand it when someone else has it."

"Is that what you believe?" Her tone was bored, but PhaHks could tell he was getting under her skin.

"I'm talking about a cohesive, bonafide connection with another. You don't know what it's like, do you?"

"I weary of this, PhaHks."

He stood without her permission.

"Sit down!"

"Go to hell.">>>

Now Sunshine was older, taller. Fourteen? He hadn't known her actual age then, but had estimated it at about twelve.

When she'd turned around to re-close and lock the big, metal door, she recognized him. Smiled at first and then seeing what it was he intended, her smile dropped nervously.

The alarm button was right there beside the lock-out panel. Her hand had been closing in when she'd spotted him. Now it hovered there, inches from the buttons, not moving.

He could see her indecision. Wanting to help him, a friend (at least he supposed they were still friends), and wanting to do the one thing that would keep her out of trouble.

But he had to try. "Don't Sunshine."

She frowned, so wanting to be able to do both things, he figured, by the struggle on her face.

She had to push the alarm of course. Hellbitch would not go lightly on her if she were ever found out.

But Sunshine seemed sad that she had to do it.

He loved her for that.

But he *had* to get out. Either that or go crazy.

So he'd hit her.

Just enough to knock her out, but his hand still hurt from it. She had an iron hard head! He checked her breathing to make sure she was okay. His act would protect her.

Poor Sunshine. Probably sneaking out to rendezvous with some pimpled sprout, out and away from the sound monitoring system. The whole goddamn place was wired. What a shitty life for her.

Despite the teeth, she'd grown into a pretty young woman. No wonder the boys were sneaking her around. But tonight, some green skinned, blue-balled Romeo was gonna have to settle for a date with his hand.

Hellbitch would probably have him beaten all the way to the morgue for this. She'd most likely perform the autopsy herself, before he was actually dead.

So once he'd started running, he figured it'd be a good idea to just keep on going.

He imagined the Bitch barking and screaming at her gargoyles right now. *"FLY, FLYYYYYY...!"*

This flight had been impulse. Where was he going to GO, really?

Once that cage door had swung free, though, he just had to do it. Free for a while of locked doors and unwanted drugs. No more chained up mind and beaten up will.

Just for a while.

Cared less about the consequences of his actions than about how good the action felt.

Kind of like the day he lost his virginity.

PhaHks ran until he HAD to stop. Until he, really and for good, fell.

This time, his body would not obey his command to roll over, push up, get up, run, run, run!

He nearly fainted from the pain that told him he'd come near to running himself to death.

Coronary infarction and some decent shuteye.

But his reptilian brain ordered otherwise. Just so far and no farther. He wept dry-eyed at his failure.

*"Wonderful, the persistence of life..."*

Words that came to him with eyes shut tight against the red sun filtering in ribbons down between tree branches. Eyes shut so tight he saw blood.

Black words against red fire.

Thirsty suddenly.

Not hungry. Not for Hellbitch's protein husks or veggie-surprise. He'd been puking up most of it anyway in his own private little commode.

If he was going to get skinny, fuck her. If he showed bad manners by vomiting din-din all over her bad taste flatware - bite cock!

Her problems.

On the other hand if he died out here, all cozy in the sun: no more problems at all.

It sounded like a good deal and he crawled over to the base of a huge leaf laden tree, curling up on its spongy bed of dead fall.

He was asleep in minutes.

**

PhaHks had run.

Not escaped of course, he'd simply taken it upon himself to test her. He seemed to have the need to continually be pushing at her boundaries and stretching her bands until she snapped.

If he had returned on his own, tired and hungry, she would have been angry and would still have punished him for the infraction, but not harshly.

But he hadn't and now, after scanning the surrounding hills and locating his position (which was not moving), she was more concerned than angry, though she was still *displeased*.

He would not survive the Romulan night, when temperatures plummeted into single digits. Human PhaHks did not know that.

Impressive, however, how far he had run.

During the last four months, her patience for his blatant defiance of her rules had broadened. His unpredictability and illogic was annoying but fascinating and granted her much material to think about regarding his species.

Puzzling creature.

Disobedient (even when living conditions were wholly provided and beneficial). Rebellious. Contradictory. Infuriating.

But beautiful in that alien way of his.

Colored irises. Salt-water tears.

Emotionalism par none.

He had access to her private rooftop gardens where he spent a great deal of his time. She supposed he went there to get away from curious eyes and, naturally, to enjoy the greenery.

Whenever he wasn't sneaking down to her private spring.

One of the most interesting things she'd learned of the human PhaHks she had learned there...

...that he was not merely a combative human; the one living representative of his species; a interesting study of contradictions.

That he was not only a poor innocent condemned to live out his life under the curious eyes of an alien race.

Though she had seen him before in various states of undress, watching Rhengar examine him and learn of muscle/fat ratios, nerve responses, cardio-pulmonary rhythms and a host of other mysteries. All learned and catalogued. All before she had ever been conscious, really, of his masculinity.

Way back in those first few months. Before her spurred violation of him.

The time came, at her mineral spring to where he had snuck down, where she began really *seeing* him.

That was the time a mystery choose to unveil itself.

That night, out from the cleansing steam of a private pool, under subtle light and moisture.

She learned.

PhaHks was *exceptionally* MALE.

**

<< Somewhere water was running.

He'd explored the entire mansion and had found nothing new. So had sat down on the edge of an opaque window, dark because it was night. The thick glass felt cool.

Cold. Inside it was warm.

Warmer than he felt, more substantial than he felt. More real than he was.

Then the trickle of water, very faint. He looked around, the dim lanterns (lit with something other than oil or gas, there was no flame), cast just enough light to avoid tripping.

He walked one way and when the trickling sound ceased, he turned, quickly walking the other. Caught it again. Followed it to what he thought was the end of the long hall, one he had walked down many times.

Funny how sounds seemed to travel farther at night.

When he came to the end, he noticed a small opening. One which would have been very difficult to see during the day. But night shadows were different and it was plain.

Where the decorative masonries wall appeared to end and join at ninety degrees with its counterpart, it actually only blended in. It was a false front. In what would have been the closed off corner was actually two feet of receding space. Enough for one person to pass.

PhaHks stepped behind it into a much darker passage that sloped down. One feeble light lit it up for only a few meters ahead, beyond was blackness.

The trickling was distinct.

In behind the wall, the sound of water became clear and inviting. He could feel instantly the change of humidity against his skin.

Spiraling, stone-carved steps descended into near darkness but for the feeble illumination of the one lantern. Damp and cooling the soles of his feet, he followed them.

A staircase behind a wall leading to an underground swimming pool, he thought. The place seemed to have been constructed without much consideration to convenience.

He grudgingly recalled Hellbitch telling him that it was her ancestral home and had been added to countless times.

The pool itself lay in shadow. And it was a well, the water in the darkness as black as ink. Two more tiny lanterns were all that kept the shadows from swallowing up him and everything he saw.

But the thick moisture left a sweet sulphured flavor on his tongue.

PhaHks shed his clothes and stepped onto the final stair, slippery under his feet, when something broke the surface. He in full view of the water and whatever was emerging was half hidden in shadow.

It froze him for a moment, the shape of it. It rose and exhaled, spraying tiny droplets into the yellow glow of the lantern.

From vivacious curves steam rose, ascending to God.

Neurons coalesced, struggling to connect archives fallen into disuse, shooting a unsolicited ping to his groin.

She had arrived ahead of him. Someone who obviously made it their habit to be here. He could see the shed clothing and the folded blanket laying at the edge of the natural rock-hewn spring.

Shoulders glistened in the half-light as long black hair was swept back from sharp features.

One smooth boost with hands on the pool edge and she'd propelled herself out of the water, standing naked, breasts bouncing under the ministrations of drying herself off.

PhaHks retreated up the stairs like he had been speared.

As quietly and quickly as his legs could carry him, he sought refuge in his room.

Didn't want to think about what he'd just witnessed. Did NOT want to acknowledge how his body had reacted at seeing curving moist flesh and round, hard-nippled breasts.

Laying down, he pressed fists into his genitals until it hurt. Didn't want to feel his penis hardening at the sight of a navel and of the dark, softly carpeted folds below, covering the inner, inviting flesh of a wet, waiting vagina...

Until that moment, Hellbitch had been a safe image of ugliness and pain.

A Thing to despise.

A power hungry, sadistic, controlling fucking Icon. Satan's little mistress-bitch. Macaulay's wet dream.

Now his deceitful, Judas Iscariot had hardened, trying to convince him otherwise.

It stated that, (ejaculating to emphasize the discovery),

...she was female. A Woman.>>>

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