Involuntary

Chapter Four

Dmitrei grew increasingly confounded by Elena. As they are lunch across from each other at the table, he once again got the feeling that she had not a care in the world. Yet the occasional waves of pain from her told him that wasn't true.

It was impressive pain to break through the thick barriers he erected against feeling any empathy for anyone. Or, perhaps, he sensed it more because he had begun connecting with her.

Not to mention his increasing attraction to her.

Her dark hair had been swept up into a tidy ponytail bringing more emphasis to her pretty, heart-shaped face and wide, expressive eyes. She wore a light-purple sweater that made her silver eyes reflect lilac and soft looking jeans that hugged her lovely, generous curves.

As she ate her sandwich, babbling to him about things to do with the shelter--upcoming events and the like--he longer to ask her more personal things. Like what happened to her and why wasn't she angry about it. Perhaps, this wasn't the right time.

She set down her sandwich when she noticed he wasn't eating his. She nudged the still paper wrapped sandwich toward him. She looked at him, her eyes soft, "Hey, is something wrong? You haven't touched your lunch."

No, but he was feasting. Feasting on how beautiful she was. All the light and hope she radiated. It was starting to affect the gloom inside him, making the ice less impenetrable.

"You aren't a big talker, are you?" she asked.

He shook his head and began unwrapping the sandwich, "I don't have much to say."

She tilted her head, her soft brown hair spilling over one shoulder. She had no idea how sexy she was. Her voice remained soft and low, forcing him to fight back a shudder. "I'm sure you do. Although, I'm not sure I'd want to hear it. What were you saying about the world going to hell?"

He leaned back in his chair taking a bite of his sandwich, giving him time to think about his answer. The sandwich was fine, nothing tasted good anymore, though. Ann said that was a sign of depression. He wasn't depressed, was he? Just tired of the world.

"You think it isn't?" he asked, genuinely curious.
She rested her cheek on her hand, "I think there are lots of good things in it. Lots of good people. I like most people I meet. Like you, for example."

He nodded, "But what about the TV and everything on the news?"

"They like to focus on the bad," she said.

"Seems like there's a lot of bad to focus on."

She sighed, "Maybe, but the worse it gets, the more important it is for good people to step up and fight for what's right. Bad things happening is a reason for good people to become active, not disgusted."

Active. Like he and the others had been. Still, she was a human. Of course she would feel that way about her race. It was natural for her to see things with rose-colored glasses. She hasn't seen what humans could do to other humans.

"Anyway, if you're so hopeless about life, what are you doing here?" she asked. "This kind of work is so depressing most people can't stand it."

He looked toward the back room, full of cages. "I want to help Sebastian."

"See?" she said throwing her hands up. "That's what I mean. Other people stay engaged with the world for the same reason you stay engaged with the shelter. Because there are people we love there."

Love. There was a word. If he stayed around long enough, would she love him? Maybe not if she ever knew what he was. What he did.