The half-breed lay on the floor by Her bed, sore and exhausted, dripping with blood from wounds now closed, dead black eyes closed as he pretended to be unconscious. If She thought him sleeping, and if She was pleased with him, sometimes She would let him be and not try to love him or hate him more. He could only hope that today would be one of those days when She was pleased with him, because he was too tired to give Her more, and there were no more shadows to save him in this bright, bloody place. He didn't want anymore, he just wanted his safe darkness again. 

The shadow had done all that he had promised, and She had loved them, but so often She was insatiable, and now the shadow had passed from him, leaving the half-breed alone and afraid. She always wanted more than he could give, and when he couldn't give Her what She wanted, She would hate him again. He was never sure which was worse, the loving or the hating. For the moment, She lay quietly, breathing slow and even, recovering from Her last loving, and he was safe. For the moment. Trying to mimic Her breathing, the half-breed lay quietly, slowly licking the blood from his mouth and chin, feeling the line of every mark She left on him still, even though they were healed away, as they always were.

Suddenly She was above him, pulling away the fur coverlet that half covered him, leaving him naked and shivering. Then She was leaning against him, clutching his shoulders with fingers like claws, hungrily tasting the blood still on his chest and arms. Surprised, he could only shudder. He hadn't heard Her move, hadn't seen Her shadow fall across him, hadn't felt Her focus shift from Her own satedness to his presence, yet now here She was, wanting more again, and the shadow who would laughingly give it to Her, who had given it to Her, was gone. There were no more shadows to take his place, no more faces for him to wear. All the half-breed felt now was fear and despair, and he whimpered and cringed in Her grip.

"What, tired of me so soon, my pet?" She murmured, fingernails extending sharply and breaking the skin of his shoulders where they gripped him, more blood flowing to join the first.

"N-never," he whispered dutifully, but he trembled as Her tongue traveled up the side of his neck and wailed as Her teeth sank into the soft part of his ear.

Oh, but you are, Her shadow whispered with sweet cruelty. I can see it, I can smell it, I feel it. I know all things, my pet. All things about you, and I can see and smell and feel that you do not want me.

"No," he said, pleading, saying what She wanted him to say, "Nononono, I love you I love you. I do."

She let him go, watched him huddle on his knees before Her, whispering devotions, then drew his face from the floor to look into his frightened, dead black eyes, and smiled. Relief warred with dread, and he read the familiar greedy hunger in Her golden gaze. After all I do for you, Her shadow hissed as Her tongue this time found the freshly bleeding punctures on his shoulder, you lie to me. I must punish you, my pet.

"No," he whimpered, Her talons holding him fast and pinning him to the floor, but before Her real punishment could fall, the door that the half-breed had never been through flew open, and He surged into the room with a roar, all blackness and anger. She flew to her feet to face Him with Her eyes blazing and Her mouth and hands covered in blood, screaming at Him in Her fury at the interruption. She hated to be interrupted. 

Then, for a moment, there was silence. The tall black thing bared teeth down at the half-breed, who lay curled painfully on the floor behind Her, frozen by the glinting, malicious stare, unable to move until it swung from him back to Her. 

"You said you were done with him!"

"So I changed my mind! He's mine to do with as I please!"

"I fathered him, you wench! He's my meat to do with what I please!"

"He's more than his meat, you impotent old dog, and you gave him to me!"

"I let you play with him, I never said he was yours."

The half-breed darted into the refuge of the shadow of Her bed, throwing his arms over his head and squeezing his eyes shut, as if by blocking out the scene he could somehow make himself invisible. The shadows here were strange and he couldn't pull them inside, but they still whispered to him, making promises and threats and inane chatter. They couldn't block out the sounds of the roaring argument going on just beyond them, his Mistress and Her Mate, growing louder and louder as they hurled insults and furies at each other with their voices full of blame and rage and hurt and betrayal.

Memories of Him were few and far between, but they were always bad, for He hated the half-breed, and His hate was not delicately streaked with desire. She always said She loved him, would do what She could to protect him from the Mate's jealous hatred, but She could not do everything. All he knew was that the Mate hated him, but he didn't know why, he would never know, and he accepted that and escaped His rage whenever he could and endured it when he could not. She stood between them now, and the half-breed tried to make himself as small and insignificant as possible, bones creaking painfully and flesh burning despite the cool of the shadows surrounding him.

Then She was swept aside and the sheltering bed was thrown away, exposing him. He clung to the shadows, holding them to him as scant protection, trying in vain to suck one of them into himself, to don the face and bearing of another who might be able to save him.

"It's too late, Rao," He growled, reaching through the shadows with a massive, black, clawed hand. "Give up and move on."

Then something screamed, He and She looked sharply to the door, and the world exploded in light and fire.