Claws

Introductions

Book two?? BOOK TWO?? WOW
I started this series when I was twelve years old! Almost a decade later, here I am with a sequel!
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"Welcome to Blue Moon Ranch!"
It was grand, over the top, and felt entirely inappropriate. Luka took it in stride however; giving a fake laugh and starting towards his father, he uttered a "Thank you!"
It smelled more and more like feathers, musk, and cows the closer I got the the imposing ten-foot fence, following closely after my master. A brass key was fished from the older human's pocket, thrust into the keyhole, and twisted, opening the metal-bar gate with a creek.
     Mr. Fryre held the gate wide and motioned us inside with his free hand. My human was the first to enter. A fun-sized hand gripped mine and dragged me along after him. My available hand dragged our heavy suitcase after us.
     Entering the gateway into the complex felt like being transferred from one prison to another. At least this one had access to the sky.
     Behind us, the gate was closed and locked.
     A calloused hand landed firmly on Luka's shoulder. It's owner spoke up, "If you'll follow me to the garage, I can give you a tour of our facility on a golf cart."
     To the mansion's garage we went. It was a several minute walk at a brisk pace, which both my master and I were well equipped for. The older human ahead of us began to sweat through his shirt.
     "Need me to carry you?" Luka offered jokingly.
     A hand waved him off despite labored breathing. "I'll make it. It just hasn't been the same since my heart attack."
     "I'm sorry to hear that." My human hummed genuinely.
     "It's nothing but a thing." His dad dismissed.
     Not long after, we arrived at our destination. An off-white, double-wide garage door greeted us while Mr. Fryre fiddled with a keypad on the maroon siding of the main building. With an affirming tone, the garage door began to lift automatically, and I noticed a menagerie of of vehicles— boats, ATVs, dirt bikes, and the aforementioned golf cart.
     The salt-and-peppered human made quick work of fetching the four-seater cart, and gave us a gruff, "Hop in!"
     Luka and I had no problem doing as we were told. He once again took the passenger seat next to his father, and I settled into the back seat, wings half folded by my sides. And we were off along a series of dirt roads.
     First, Mr. Fryre showed us the outbuildings. There were twenty total, ten of which housing staff, including farmhands, maids, and groundskeepers, and ten of which housing lionhearts and their masters.
     Each outbuilding had its own unique twist on the ranch house style. One was sky blue with white-washed brick and a red shingle roof. Another had dark brown siding and a porch swing. Yet another was pastel yellow with beige accents and a wrap-around porch.
     To our amazement, there was a mammoth outdoor swimming pool, complete with water heaters and a diving board around the back of the house. To its right, a full-sized obstacle course not unlike the kind I had practiced on at the Sanctuary.
     Last on the outside tour was a brief visit to the cattle. They regarded us with extreme caution, baying and stomping their hooves in our direction.
     "They don't like birds." The older human stated simply.
     "They're apex predators," Luka reasoned, "I wouldn't like them either if I was a prey animal."
     But you are a prey animal.
     I bit back my smart aleck remark.
     Next on the agenda was our very own housing, which Mr. Fryre had saved for last. The golf cart pulled up to a charming little bungalow, which was the smallest of all the outbuildings— dark blue with white trim and black shingles, and a small front porch. Red azaleas were in bloom around the perimeter of the building. Crape myrtles in a wide range of colors were scattered around the property. Framing the front and backyard was a good-condition oak picket fence.
"Picturesque." Luka hummed happily.
"It's yours." His father replied with pride, "C'mon, let me show you around inside."
With that, we hopped off the golf cart one by one. The oak gate opened swung open under the older human's guidance with a small groan. An edged brick path lead to a white front door.
Mr. Fryre pulled a giant key ring from his right front pocket. On it must have been a hundred keys, all neatly labeled. A minute of combing through the collection later, and an aluminum key was carefully removed from the fray.
Wordlessly, the key was handed to Luka, before a sun-tanned hand waved him towards the door.
He gave a brief "Thank you." before unlocking the door and walking inside, the two of us in tow.
The bungalow was a small two bedroom one bath with a compact kitchen. The front door opened into a living room with an L-shaped sectional couch sat across from a flat-screen TV. Behind it was a circular dining table sat for four. To the left behind a corner sat the kitchen, complete with stainless steel appliances and a two-seater bar.
To the left of the entryway was a short walk terminating in an open archway leading to the medium-sized master bedroom. The second bedroom was also open with an archway, nestled in the back left corner of the home. Between the two was a Jack-and-Jill style bathroom—that one, fortunately, had a door.
The tour around the house was as short as the house was small; still, the newness of it made it feel worlds larger than our suite at the Sanctuary and the birdcage.
     This new area already felt more like home than any cell, any cage, any group home I'd ever been in in my life.
     "Well, I'll let you boys get settled." Mr. Fryre spoke up, rousing me from my thoughts. "I'll be back to fetch you two for supper. There's food in the kitchen for both of y'all in case you get hungry before then. Feel free to make yourselves comfortable—this is your home now."
     "Thanks, dad." Luka said from the heart, "I really appreciate everything you're doing for me."
     "Anytime, son, anytime. I'll see you in a few hours at dinner." The older human spoke, "I'll get going now."
     He showed himself out, giving an awkward half-wave at the doorway.
     I wasted no time as Luka surveyed his surroundings further, the both of us standing in the living room. Spreading my wings wide, I shook with all my might, spreading my scent around. The blue canvas sectional sank beneath my weight as my body plopped onto it and wiggled around to claim it as my own.
     Luka laughed at my display, and I announced to my human, "This is serious business! I want everyone to know this place is ours!"
     "You do you, hun, I'll just unpack while you mark everything." He laughed at me between his words.
     "Suit yourself." I said with an air of seriousness.
     A rub of wings again walls, writhing on beds, spreading musk around with wildly shaking wings, a feather here and there, and it was done. The house was officially ours! My human walked in on me mrrrrring to myself happily.
     "I know, right?" He hummed just as blithely.
     It wasn't the first time he guess what I was saying, and I finally got wise. "You understand me?" I asked in English.
     "With years of study and practice." Luka responded, "I don't have a doctorate in Avian Studies and Research for nothing. I was one of the pioneering scientists in decoding your tongue."
     "Can you understand this?" I spoke with a grrrowhm.
     "Yes." He replied simply in English.
"That's pretty cool!" I said with a mrrrrr-clickclick.
     "Thanks." Luka laughed, "It took a lot of work and research, so I'm glad someone appreciates it."
     With a growling stomach, the topic changed. "He said there was food in the fridge, right? For me?"
     A simple nod was my answer, and away I scurried. The fridge was in my sights. As I ripped open the door and dove to a downtown-style steak with chittering teeth, I couldn't help but think of my pack mates. The chaos of tearing into food brought me back to them.
What are they doing? Are they okay? How is Kennedy?
     The fridge door was left open while I tore into the cut of meat—fatty thigh— and I almost didn't hear the "AHT AHT!" from my irked master. Almost. Despite my attempts to ignore him in favor of the flesh, a rough hand grasping the nape of my neck and twisting me to face him was impossible to disregard.
     When I looked up, I didn't see Luka. I smelled rotting vegetables. I felt pain. I tasted my own blood. I saw Samuel.
     And I froze.
     My master's scolding did nothing to rouse me from my catatonic state. "What is wrong with you? Have you no shame? We leave the Sanctuary and suddenly you lose all your table manners?"
      A few seconds passed, and I was still in a daze. I could hear the crack of leather, feel clawed straps eating into my skin, I could feel his hands around my neck as his choked the life almost completely out of my body. I could feel him press his bulging crotch into my back as he restrained me in leather and chains.
     "Apollo?"
    Hands on me. All over me. Wandering my body after my pastor had taken me to a secluded back room and instructed me to take my church garb off, for God.
     "Apollo."
     I could feel rope biting into my skin as I struggled against Riya. She held me fast and kissed every part of my body in ways that made my skin crawl like roaches were skittering across it. She took me into her mouth and sucked me off, inhuman fangs scraping against and cutting my length.
     "Apollo!"
     I could feel myself inside of her as she sunk her claws into my shoulders and came, crying out my name in our shared tongue.
    "Derrick!"
      I blinked, and suddenly I was back again. Blue eyes met my master's brown and suddenly I wasn't hungry anymore.
     "I'm sorry." My apology came with the squelching of torn-apart meat falling to linoleum—not linoleum, tile— floor.
     "What just happened?" The human asked, squatting down next to my kneeling form.
     "I don't know." I admitted.
     "Where were you?" He almost whispered.
     "A lot of places." The murmur just barely escaped my chest.
     A huge sigh. And then, arms wrapped around my now-gory frame.
     "I'm sorry, hun. I shouldn't have grabbed you. You were probably having flashbacks." He hummed with his face in my hair.
     "Kennedy talked about those." I recalled, "What are they?"
     "Signs of PTSD. It's when you...." Luka struggled to find the words. "Get stuck in the past, and you feel bad things all over again."
     "Do you have those?" I asked softly.
     "No, but I've been working with abused lionhearts my entire professional life. I'm pretty well acquainted."
      Quiet found its way into the kitchen. For several minutes we just stayed there, with my master wrapping his arms around me in a tight embrace.
Eventually, Luka broke the silence. "Get a shower, hun. I'll clean up in here then come give you a nice massage."
I complied wordlessly.
The process of taking my clothes off felt wrong. I felt too exposed, too bare, and like covering up in a million layers would be far safer.
     If stepping into the oversized tub felt like losing a battle, turning on the water was losing the war. Soap wandered over my body on unconsenting hands. Trembling digits worked shampoo through black hair. A very, very unwanted hard on sat between unhappy legs.
     Relieving myself wasn't something I wanted to do, but it didn't feel like I had a choice. I tried beating the feeling back, tried stamping it out, tried shooing it away, but it would not relent.
     Touching myself felt as violating as the arousing feeling of Riya's hands. I couldn't do it. There was only one thing to do.
     "Master?" I called sheepishly.
     I'll spare you the details of the rest.