Lyra scanned the forest, and then closed her eyes to enable her improved hearing to pick up any sounds.
‘Kane isn’t here!’ she observed at length.
‘Well, is that so?’ The old man laughed, ‘If he ain’t, then you got a head start. If he is, then you need to work more on your senses. There’s more senses than ya know.’ Lyra looked across the vast expanse of water between herself and the raft. ‘Speed, Missy, you gotta go for speed. Forget everything you think you know and go for speed,’ Harlon instructed, ‘And keep thems eyes open, you’ll see fine however deep ya go.’ Lyra nodded and dove under the surface. She rapidly moved from the shallows to an underwater ridge, dodging the weeds and branches as she swam. Speed, she thought as she sank deeper. Her feet instinctively kicked, but as she progressed the movement changed, and they flipped together side by side. Her arms spread through the waters, and then merged to accentuate the movement of her feet. Her body torpedoed through the lake, her eyes guiding her to the shadow of the raft. Once she had reached her destination, she cut upwards through the water and grasped the edges of the wood. Her eyes did not blink as she emerged from the waters; instead they focused on the figure standing over her.

Kane stood tall on the raft, soaking wet. Lyra wondered how she had failed to see him moving past her in the lake. He reached down and, taking her hand in his, lifted her from the water. Lyra gazed up at him; she had missed him holding her through the night. The bed had been cold without him, and she had barely slept waiting for his return; he had abandoned her with only his wrath to keep her company.
‘I’m sorry I hurt you,’ Lyra whispered. Kane tilted his head as if he did not understand what she was saying. ‘Last night, I’m sorry.’ He put a finger to her lips to silence her, then turned his back, took her arms in his hands and lifted her onto his back. Lyra obediently placed her arms about his neck.

The monster dove into the waters, carrying his woman. His body rocketed to the depths and straightened before impact. Kane remained still for a time and checked that her arms were secured firmly about him. He then shot like a harpoon through the water. At the underwater ridge he dropped his feet to the lake bed and walked slowly up the ridge and out of the depths until their heads rose above the surface. He checked that her arms were securely locked on him again and strode from the water.

Harlon waited on the shore,
‘Which is it? Was the boy there or did he outswim you?’ Kane lifted Lyra down onto the sand. Instinctively her hand reached for Kane’s head and as she touched him her eyes glinted, her breath bated and she shook,
‘Neither.’ Her voice lowered as she spoke; she looked into his eyes, ‘He was already there. He waited under the water for me.’ Harlon nodded,
‘Good,’ he praised with a genuine pride, ‘You’re seeing things as they are.’
‘No,’ Lyra responded, ‘I’m not seeing, I just know.’
‘That’s what Old Harlon means!’ the old man stated, and then turned to Kane, ‘She’s a fast learner, boy, you picked well.’ Lyra blushed with appreciation, but her eyes fixated on Kane. Her hand remained on his skin, and his eyes locked on hers. Harlon sensed that the two were communicating, but somehow shutting him out of their conversation.

‘Guess you two wanna be alone,’ Harlon observed kindly. Neither moved. ‘How about Old Harlon goes and makes you some food?’ Still neither moved. ‘So, I guess that’s it for today then,’ Harlon continued pointlessly. The old man looked at the couple who were clearly locked in some kind of communication, shrugged and sauntered off towards his trail, muttering, ‘Yep, make some food.’

I’m sorry, Lyra signalled, intentionally focusing her mind only on Kane. The world about them disappeared into a bleak haze. Kane locked on to her thoughts with equal vigor. I want to see the real you, she continued.
Murdering thing, Kane communicated.
You heard me? Lyra thought back to her earlier words to the old man.
Heard you? I hear everything. Kane’s eyes bored deeper into her skull.
I don’t want you listening to everything, Lyra indicated nervously.
You don’t have a choice. Lyra’s eyelids grew heavy as his eyes mesmerized hers. You belong to me.
Is that what you want? A pet? Someone who just agrees with you, without feeling or opinion? Lyra pressed. Kane softly placed his hand against her cheek. I want to see you as you really are, she insisted boldly.
A monster, is that what you want to see? Kane stepped closer to her, tilting her chin up to retain eye contact.
I’ve seen the monster, Lyra asserted, growing bolder. The conflict thickened between them, as did the desire.

I can’t leave you, so why does it matter? Lyra probed. I have seen the monster, she reiterated again.
There is always a way out for you. She could sense his growing ire.
My choice then; be with you or die? Lyra pressed, the ache for him growing inside of her.
Your choice to come so violently when I touch you, to beg me to touch you. That’s your choice. Kane had the upper hand. You can call me a monster, but you would rather have this monster inside you than anyone else. He was using her own mind against her, and she flushed at his words, knowing that he spoke the truth. He leaned in closer to her. I can smell you, your own body is giving you away. Her lips parted, and she felt her breaths increase with his words, yet she remained strong.

Then, let me see you. If he could use her desire against her, then she could play the same game. She thought carefully about his passions, and focused deeper on his thoughts.
‘Please, Kane,’ the words fell from her tremoring lips, ‘Let me see you.’ At once she sensed his confusion as he realized what she was doing to him. ‘Please, Kane,’ she whispered wistfully once again.
Don’t play games with me, woman! He commanded so powerfully that the words hurt her head, but she refused to release him. She searched further into his mind, in spite of his attempts to block her. Then she saw it, an image imprinted on his soul; a fervor that drove him desperately wild with an elated ardour that he could not control. Lyra bit her own lip and inhaled deeply, fearful of the response her words might trigger. She needed to goad him further for the words to have meaning.

You are a monster; you kill, you feed, what else are you? Lyra communicated defiantly. She sensed the sudden, angry shift in his mood.
I am immortal. I am part of something you cannot comprehend! The anger was rising. You know so little, you think you can challenge me? I could gut you in an instant.
There he is, there’s the monster! Lyra’s mind cried out.
We feed to survive; we kill to survive. Humans kill for greed in the thousands and have done for millennia. Insects you are to me, an insect. His words dug into Lyra’s heart like a knife. She really was nothing but a pet to him; she swallowed down a sob. She knew that he could sense her sadness but fought against him none the less.
I never hurt anyone, but then, how could I? I am a weak insect. Her mind cried painfully. I don’t know why you didn’t just kill me the first night!

Kane recalled the first night; her breathing so peacefully in her sleep; hiding from the world, seeing so much darkness in her art; her mind. So much understanding and isolation. He understood her loneliness, her self-imposed escape from the world of man. He sensed her in a unique way; as if she were crying out for him, and he had tortured and tormented her to gratify himself. Lyra felt the essence of his vision and waited for him to respond; he communicated nothing.
‘You can end this now, Kane,’ she whispered. She heard him pull the machete from the scabbard; her eyes remained fixed on his. ‘Show me your face, Kane!’ she cried desperately. He raised the knife to her throat as she anticipated; her eyes closed and she broke their communication before whispering, ‘Please, Kane, save me.’

The pressure eased, and she heard him sheath the knife. Every sense in her body told her that he had no intention of using it; it was his way of dealing with any threat, but he had no intention of actually hurting her. She kept her eyes closed as he lifted her over his shoulder and carried her back to the cabin. She did not struggle, but kept her eyes closed. Once inside the door he lowered her to the floor, and she waited with her eyes closed, casting her mind back to Harlon’s advice that she submit to him if he revealed himself. She tried to keep Kane from reading her thoughts by bombarding her mind with random images of the forest and lake as a distraction.

Kane looked over Lyra as she stood motionless, shutting him out. Her long lashes covered her doe eyes and he could not sense her mind. Harlon was correct; she was a fast learner. She belonged to him, she was right, that would not change, but her passion for him, that would change if she was disgusted by the sight of him. The woman was persistent, however, and he knew that it would be better to know that she hated him sooner rather than later. Reluctantly he peeled the mask from his face.

Lyra readied herself to see him, told herself not to show any horror at the sight of him and once prepared opened her eyes. The left side of his face, though rough-looking, did not have the deformities of the right side. His teeth were sharp, and his lip slightly cleft. His right eye hung lower and whiter than the left, and his bones were rigid with a weak muscle tone that caused his skin to droop, and long dark hair hung from his head. Lyra took in his image; he appeared as inhuman as he was, but she felt neither repulsion nor hate nor sadness. Her desire for him only seemed to grow stronger; perhaps it was because he was different, she tried not to dwell on her reasons. Her mind flitted to Harlon’s warning; submit. Kane was at his most vulnerable and most exposed. Anything less could trigger his anger, the same anger that had left her so coldly the previous night, an anger that knew no bounds.

The power he held over her was incomprehensible; her stomach plagued with desire as she looked at him. Kane stood motionless, awaiting a response. The usual horrified response was met with instant and violent retribution. He did not want this for Lyra but knew that he could not control the wrath of the beast within. Lyra looked into his eyes and dropped to her knees without any further hesitation.
I am yours, her mind cried out. Kane placed his fingers under her chin, causing her to rise. He then moved his hand to her hair, stroking it away from her face, and lowered his mouth to her lips; she accepted him fully and kissed him with an unbridled passion. Kane pulled her to the sofa and onto his lap, so that she was facing him. Whilst still fully embraced he unbuckled himself and tore her leggings open. Lyra straddled his hardness and took him fully into her.

Desire welled in her belly and she repeatedly drove down on him, their lips still locked. The words almost came to her lips; she wanted to whisper them in his ear, but feared his response, or lack of it. Lyra reasoned that a monster could not love; he could not see her as anything beyond a possession. Her own need soon interrupted her thoughts and the fury forced her on; she could not stop, she needed him, and the feeling only grew as his arms wrapped around her body and his hand cupped her head, bringing her tongue deeper into his mouth. She could feel his urgency, as his legs shook beneath her. Lyra pulled her mouth from his and stared into his eyes, inviting him in, allowing him to feel her every sensation; fully open and exposed she submitted her mind to his.

Lyra’s pulses burned through Kane; he sensed her need of him as her body moved on him. Kane placed two fingers on her temple and entranced her with his gaze; his mind directing her body into an agonisingly pleasurable swoon. Her hands grasped his shoulders and their mouths locked as both viciously peaked.