Chapter 1

It is often thought that the Ha'tinre have no faces. After they are finished in their training, they are given a powerful magic drained from the blood of demons from another realm. It is what gives the men their glowing eyes. So they always hide their faces, wrapped in cloth as black as their souls. But for their women, it simply makes them stronger. They absorb the magic more readily, for women are vessels for all that is not corporeal. For this reason, their women slip among the masses, skilled in the art of seeking out and extracting information from the lips of those not so eager to tell. In this art, so too are they well versed in the many ways of eroticism.

It is from this that children were born among their order. These offspring were laced with the magic that fueled their parents' wicked souls. But in the children, the magic would purify, though lose none of its potency. It was these children that supposedly gave rise to the Ha'trin, those who no longer wanted to kill and torture for the simple pleasure of the act. They gave up their magic, making themselves immune to their parents. And so the two orders began their ageless struggle against one another. One hired for murder, for lies, for greed and power and torture. The other hired for protection, to defend those who could not defend themselves.

"And thus they are weak!" he roared, using his staff to trip her and throw her to the ground. He stood over her, his eyes glowing the faint green. "Just like you, Shime."

Panting, Shime attempted to gain back her feet. But he thrust the blunt end of the staff against her throat, keeping her down. She lay on the hard ground, trembling. She knew what would come later if she didn't get back up now. She grabbed at the staff, wrenching it from her throat and stumbling up. She didn't get the chance to gain her feet when she heard her teacher speak a word of magic. Lightning danced along the pole.

Bent backwards in pain, Shime writhed on the ground, crying out through clenched jaws. Still her teacher stood over her, his eyes always disapproving. "You know the spell to make it stop."

"Grand Master Tarnrax!" a silvery voice laced with contempt said behind him. He turned to glare down at one of the women of his clan. Her eyes did not glow. At least not with magic. Hatred, certainly.

"What is it?" he asked boredly, ignoring Shime's desperate attempts to mutter the spell to negate the curse he had placed on her.

"Dasbol is back from his mission. He is wanting to speak with you. Something about an artifact he came across." The woman stared at him with defiance. She hated him, but she, as everyone in the clan did, knew that he was always on his guard. Many attempts had been made on his life. And none of them had lived to beg for mercy.

"Oh good. I needed a distraction." With that, he strode off, not bothering to even glance back at his student.

Once he was gone, though, the woman knelt beside Shime. She passed her hand over Shime, speaking the words to the counter spell. With a heavy breath, Shime lay still at last, though her muscles twitched here and there. She panted heavily, her body still trembling from the agony she had just experienced. It wasn't new. He had done that to her before.

"Shime. Are you alright?" She looked up at the woman.

"What do you think?" Shime snapped back. She tried to rise, but her limbs couldn't work. She grit her teeth and forced herself to stand anyways, wobbling. When the woman tried to help her, she bared her teeth, wrinkling her nose. "I don't need your help."

"You do. We all need each other's help against that tyrant," she hissed.

For a moment, Shime wanted to agree. Instead, she turned away. "You should go, Malvala. No sense in us both being punished."

"I'm not worried about myself." She offered her arm when Shime stumbled. Glaring up at her, Shime sneered. Malvala was not her species. She was petite and beautiful. Most called her kind fairies for they had translucent wings. But Malvala had had them cut off when she joined the Ha'tinre. In comparison to her coltish grace and fairness, Shime seemed like a brute, though among her own kind, she was considered very pretty.

"Why would you be worried about me?" Shime asked, almost thankful that at least someone cared, but she didn't even dare think it. She had to be strong. To care about another person was weakness. At least that's what her Master told her.

"Because what he does is not the way of our order. We are cruel to those who are not of our clan. Not to our own clan, nor our apprentices." Malvala helped Shime over to a log that was part of a small obstacle course.

Sitting, Shime let out a sigh. "I will become stronger than he is," she said so softly that Malvala had to lean over to hear her. "I'll get more powerful and I'll kill him. And then I will be Grand Master and I'll make things right." She clenched her fists, rage making her eyes blur with tears. Though the tears did not fall. She could never let them fall.

Malvala glanced around, making certain Tarnrax wasn't in sight. "I hope you do," she said earnestly. "I hope it happens before he breaks another of my students." Reaching out a slender hand, Malvala stroked Shime's silky black hair with her elongated fingers. "Do take care, Shime. You are stronger than most of us." With that, she turned away.

Shivering, Shime stood and went inside the house. She was exhausted. Her Master didn't let her get much sleep, telling her there would be plenty of time to close her eyes when she was dead. Sinking into the bed, she stared at the other side where her teacher slept. She had been only 10 years old when her parents had been killed by Ha'trin. That was when Tarnrax had "shown her mercy" and taken her in. The same day she had learned of the death of her parents, both Ha'tinre, the Grand Master had made her a woman, or so he put it.

Seven years later, he had trained her, trying to make her a clone of himself. He wanted her cold and violent, like a beaten dog. He kept her in his bed. There was rarely a night he didn't make her "practice her knowledge in pleasuring a man." He told her that some day when she was good enough, she would need the experience to help loosen a stiff tongue or two. So she pleased him, but he never returned the favor. He didn't have to. He wasn't the one training. He was the Grand Master. He could do anything he wanted.

No matter what she did, she was never good enough. No matter how hard she trained, he was always disapproving. He punished her all the time. She was starting to think nothing was right in his mind.

Speaking of punishment, Shime opened her eyes when she heard the door shut. Tarnrax strode into the room, his voice gruff behind her. "So eager for your nightly training, are you?" He grinned mockingly at her.

"More eager to sleep, Master," she replied quietly though boldly.

Clenching her jaw to keep from whimpering in pain as Tarnrax grabbed her hair, she was wrenched out of bed and forced to her knees before her teacher. "I will get the weakness out of you one way or another," he growled. Shime closed her eyes as he undid his leggings. When she felt the head of his length against her lips, she let out a heavy breath in acquiescence.

His grip on her hair tightened when he felt the heat of her mouth. He pulled her head forward until she felt him against the back of her throat. She had lost her gag reflex due to his aggressive violation of her mouth many times before. Each time he had mockingly instructed her on the use of her tongue and the muscles in the back of her throat to please him greater.

She slurped unenthusiastically at his cock, letting him set the pace. She didn't have a choice in that matter anyways, with his fingers buried in her hair still, his hips thrusting each time he drew her forward. Her tongue slid over her teeth, but not because she wanted to protect the underside of his dick, more that she didn't want him beating her for scraping himself against her teeth. She had once dared to bite him. By the time he'd been done with her, even the healing spells Malvala knew had been barely enough to bring her back from the cold grip of death. Truly, the nymph of a woman had done it only because she had not wanted to join Shime for her defiance of Tarnrax's orders. She had even apologized for bringing Shime back to life.

So Shime did what she had been taught to please her Master. She heard him pant as he raped her mouth. He was getting harder, but she had learned he was no one trick pony. He jerked her head against his hip, growling above her as she felt the heat of his seed flow down the back of throat. In order not to choke, she gulped at it, grimacing. He rumbled, feeling the undulations of her throat as she tried to swallow all of what he spurted into her.

He finally slipped out of her mouth, releasing her hair. She coughed weakly, gasping for air, still trying to get the taste of him out of her mouth.

"Stand."

Stiffly, Shime obeyed. She knew what was coming next. But she would not give him the satisfaction of her doing it on her own.

"Strip."

Dispassionately, Shime did as he ordered. His eyes were narrowed in his lust. After he watched her remove her clothing, standing naked before him, her lavender eyes focused on the ground, Tarnrax pulled off his shirt, revealing his powerful muscles. His breeches had fallen to his ankles during his defilement of her mouth and he stepped out of them, coming toward her. It was now he saw her tremble and it made him laugh sadistically.

"You're such a coward if you're afraid." He roughly grabbed her wrists, shoving her backward onto the bed, holding her hands above her head. "I don't know why I bother with you, weakling," he snarled at her when she closed her eyes to block his taunting grin.

When she felt him press against her entrance, she let out a whimper. "Please, uncle, stop..."

Her vision blurred with the force of his blow across her face. "I've told you never call me that!" he sneered indignantly. "I don't want to be reminded I was ever related to such a weakling as my brother. And he seems to have passed that trait on to you."

She felt him press into her violently. Clenching her jaw, she swallowed her cry of pain. He was already mad enough. She had been hoping for even the slightest bit of mercy, but she really should have known better. He had told her many times that her father had been a weakling for falling in love. It was why Shime was weak, he hissed in her ear as he pounded her aggressively. She had been made and born out of love. Her parents had treated her well. They had wanted to give her the chance to chose if she wanted to be Ha'tinre or not. Most other children born of Ha'tinre unions were not given that choice. And it was for that reason they had died, leaving Shime orphaned and at the mercies of her father's brother. So Tarnrax told her as he continued to thrust inside of her.

He hissed in pleasure above her. His grip on her wrists was bruising. That was the part she probably hated the most. The fact that he held her down while he did this to her. She had once stabbed him while he used her. He never let her hands be idle since. Sometimes he tied her down. Sometimes he used a binding spell. But he liked the most to hold her down himself, forcing her helpless to his violations.

Desperately, Shime fought the tears that threatened at the corners of her eyes. It was the hardest when she felt him stiffen over her, his grip on her tightening even more. There was a depressingly familiar warmth in her body. Staring up at the dark ceiling, Shime waited for Tarnrax to withdraw from her, rolling to the other side of the bed with a grunt.

With a shuddering breath, Shime turned away from him, laying her head against her forearms. Her wrists ached. She wished her parents were still alive. If only they had not been so weak. If only they hadn't left her behind to go off on that trip of theirs to the lake to spend time together. If only the Ha'trin hadn't been out there, finding them helpless. They hadn't been a threat that day. They had just wanted to be alone, probably to make a sibling for her.

Grinding her teeth, Shime thought of the Ha'trin. They were truly evil, preaching their good intentions and yet slaughtering two defenseless Ha'tinre. Without weapons, the Ha'tinre were truly helpless against their most hated rivals for their magic had no affect on the Ha'trin who lacked their inherent magic. Without it, no magic worked on them.

An idea slowly turned in Shime's mind as she listened to her Master breathe deeply in sleep. She had tried to kill him plenty of times. He had always woken in time to throw her aside, laugh, and go back to sleep. She was not yet strong enough to defeat him. And he was likely never to just allow her to pass her training and graduate to a true Ha'tinre. But if she killed a Ha'trin...

She slipped silently from the bed. She moved about with as little noise as she could. She dressed. She found Tarnrax's stash of weapons. He left them available just for her to try to use them to kill him. Rather than that, she tucked the daggers and sword into her belt. She would go find a Ha'trin. She would bring back a vital body part of one, show Tarnrax he was wrong about her.

Running through the night, Shime hadn't bothered leaving a note or any indication of where she went. So what if Tarnrax thought she'd run away? When she returned with a dead Ha'trin, he wouldn't have a choice but to admit that he had been wrong about her, and wrong about her father. Once she was a fully fledged Ha'tinre, she could grow in her power until the right time when she would then bury her blade into his heart and take his place. She would become Grand Master and she would make sure that none of the other apprentices had to go through what she did.

Stopping, Shime glanced around at where she was. She knew these woods well enough, but not in the dark. She didn't know where she would find a Ha'trin. Hell, she didn't even know much about the outside world.

Shaking her head, Shime pressed on. None of that mattered. Her sheer determination would let her endure anything. As a born and bred Ha'tinre, it shouldn't be hard for her to find a Ha'trin. She would be able to sense their lack of magic.

It was the fact that the outside world required money that threw her off. She was no stranger to stealing, though. Many times she had had to steal food from her Master, and she used that to her advantage. Those in the town she had found herself in tended to be fairly oblivious to her. She didn't mind. It allowed her to observed.

It was only a matter of days that fortune would smile on her. She took it as a sign of her good decision. The Ha'trin walked among the people as if he had no fear of what might lie in wait. With a grin, Shime slipped behind him, dogging him down the streets. She would be patient, wait for the perfect moment. Yes, it would all be so simple...

The Ha'trin sat beside his fire. He held a stick in his hand which he had speared through the fish he had caught earlier. He watched the scales crackle and fall off his meal. He blinked lazily at the fire, yawning.

After he had eaten, he laid out on his bedroll. Closing his eyes, he didn't have long to wait for the fleeting little shadow that had been following him all day to show up. He smirked, his face turned away from the Ha'tinre he could sense out in the woods. No doubt it was an apprentice. If it had been a proper Ha'tinre, he would never see his enemy. However, he was certain it was one of the born Ha'tinre as he could sense the power given only to those who had passed their training, which this one had not.

He let out a sigh when he heard the blade slide from its sheath. Definitely a poorly trained student.

Shime had to stifle a squeak when she felt the Ha'trin's strong hand grab the wrist that held her small blade. He sat up, jerking her arm forward. She lost her balance, sprawling over his lap. He then brought her arm around her, pressing it against her back. She felt him place his fingers against the back of her neck lightly.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you thought you could kill me?" The Ha'trin sounded bored.

Shime snorted, growling. She squirmed against him.

Sighing, the Ha'trin shrugged. "Guess that part doesn't matter. Though carrying you all the way home is going to be a chore."

Shime was about to tell the Ha'trin that he could go to hell if he thought she'd cooperate with him long enough for him to take her anywhere. But when she felt his fingers press harder against the points along the back of her neck, her last thought was that her Master had been right.

Shime was surprisingly comfortable. Though when she moved her neck, she let out a soft groan in pain. Her muscles were stiff.

"Your neck will be sore a bit." Shime's eyes snapped open when she heard the foreign voice. She looked up at the Ha'trin. He looked down on her, sitting on the side of the bed she was in. "Side effect of using that particular set of pressure points."

A spike of panic rushed through her when she realized that she had been stripped of her clothing, laying under the sheets of the Ha'trin's bed. He snickered at her stricken expression. Squirming, Shime drew away from him, holding the sheet against her chest as she sat up. It was then she realized that he had chained her ankle to the frame of his bed.

He continued to smirk at her. "Well, now that you're awake, I can ask your name."

Shime swallowed her fear, reminding herself how she had ended up here. Maybe she could use this to her advantage. If she played along, he would let down his guard. So she glared at him. "Shime," she replied, her voice cold.

"Shime? That's a lovely name," he said sincerely. He gave her a disarming smile. "I'm Higzashi. Are you hungry, Shime?"

She looked at him skeptically, trying to find any hint of mockery. He was actually earnest in his asking. She snorted, steeling herself. Maybe he was just that good at hiding his true intentions. She sneered. "Why would you care?" she snapped haughtily. "Aren't you suppose to torture me or something?"

Higzashi raised his brow in question. "Do you want me to torture you? Because I can if you want and have no qualms about it."

Shime blinked in surprise. Whatever this Ha'trin was up to, he was a lot sneakier than her Master. But she would not back down, not when she had come so far. "I'm not afraid," she growled at him.

She was startled by his laughter. He grinned at her, showing his long canines. "Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

Again he was entirely sincere in his question, no hint of mockery. He saw that she was confused. But she gathered herself together again. Shaking her shackled leg, she caused the chain to clink. "You've got me chained to your bed naked. I don't believe feeding me is the first thought on your mind."

Still, he smiled widely at her. "Oh, well, about that. The chain is to ensure you couldn't escape in case you woke up while I was away. The naked part, well, just another assurance you wouldn't be running off. Besides, I wasn't about to let you sleep in my bed with that filthy clothing of yours."

"I'm sure," she snorted, still holding the sheets tightly against her body, her free leg bent up and folded over her other leg. He raised a brow at her unconscious body language of fear. It was so deeply seeded in her that she didn't even know she felt it. "I'm sure all Ha'trin are so knightly."

"Are you trying to get me to torture you?" he asked softly. "Is that why you thought you were good enough to kill me? Trying to prove you're not afraid?"

"I'm not afraid!" she snapped, trembling with her anger and something else.

Again the Ha'trin chuckled at her. "Now I know you're trying to convince yourself of that."

"Don't mock me," she growled, turning her head to glare at him from the corner of her eye.

"Oh, certainly not," Higzashi shook his head. "Something tells me you get enough of that as it is."

"What makes you think that?" she sneered.

Higzashi shook his finger at her. "I think you've talked quite enough with saying nothing. I wanted to know if you were hungry. But if you'd rather, I could feed you after I've tortured you." His tone was relaxed. He saw her gulp. She was too afraid to say she'd rather be tortured, but too proud to say she was hungry. So she said nothing, just glowered at him.

Finally, Higzashi sighed a little. "Fine. I'll chose for you." He reached out for her. The way she cringed from him told him all he needed to know. But he gave no indication he noticed as he grabbed her wrist. He saw the fear flash in her eyes even though she tried to fight him off. For how thin she was, she was of a decent enough strength, causing him to struggle with her.

Panting, Shime's chest heaved in a sudden panic. This was the part she hated the most, being held down.

The Ha'trin managed to shackle her wrists over her head, and her other leg, to the posts around the bed. He stood back, drawing his blade out of its sheath. She realized it was her own. He snickered sadistically at the expression on her face. He held up a long piece of black cloth. "In case you've never noticed, dear, a lack of sight makes the other senses far more enhanced." He leaned over her. Despite her thrashing, he managed to wrap the blindfold around her head.

Shime was regretting her goading of the Ha'trin. Especially when she felt him pull the covers off her naked body. He ran the cold flat of the blade along her trembling belly. "Hmm," she heard him rumble over her. "If you had some meat on your bones, I think you'd be quite the pretty little thing." He ran the tip of the blade along her protruding ribs. Her Master only let her eat when he thought she needed it and even then she had to fight for it. Maybe that was why she could never remember any of her spells.

The dagger was gone for just a heartbeat. Then she felt its sharpness against her flesh. She clenched her jaw tightly. She would not be a coward. She would not beg for mercy, no matter how many times he cut her. She felt a drop of warm liquid run down her side. Again she felt a sharp little cut, this time on her arm. Another drop of warm fluid.

"If you want me to stop, you need only ask," the Ha'trin said softly as he cut her again along her belly. The resulting drop pooled on her skin.

Grinding her teeth, Shime couldn't stop her trembling, but she she refused to make a sound. Over and over and over again, she felt the blade cut a small stinging wound on her, a few drops of blood dribbling down. But it wasn't until he moved down to the almost disturbing hollows of her hips, and further down along her thin thighs that he got what he'd been waiting for.

Whimpering, Shime felt his fingertips caress the inside of her thigh. "Such a shame to ruin such fine skin," he said as if he truly regretted cutting her there. Her whole body jerked when she felt the sharp sensation again against her thigh, all too close to her womanhood. He chuckled over her. "Now, now, darling. If you flinch like that you may cause me to slip and cause more damage than I intend. I would truly hate to miss and ruin you for good." To make certain she caught his hint, she felt the heat of his finger run along her slit.

She jerked again, a terrified whimper leaving her. "No!" she cried, her voice high in panic. She started to squirm desperately against the chains that held her. Her back arched as she writhed, sobbing in her sudden fear. "Please don't! Please don't!"

Higzashi was startled by her abrupt change but not surprised. It confirmed what he suspected. She felt his finger tips caressing the side of her face tenderly. "Shhh," he shushed her gently. "I won't. I won't do that again."

"Stop!" she whimpered in a choked voice. "Please stop."

"Fine," he said.

Shime was blinded a moment when he pulled the blindfold from her. She looked down at her body, terrified of what she expected to find. She blinked in surprise. There were no cuts on her at all. Then she felt a warm drop of water drip on her nose. Glancing up, the Ha'trin was smiling at her. He had a drop of water still clinging to his finger. In his other hand, he held up a metal spoon which had a pointed end, waving it rapidly between his forefinger and thumb.

He couldn't help but chuckle at the look of confusion and fear on her face. "My dear, did you really think I would cut you up? I don't want blood on my bed. If I wanted to truly torture you, I would send you back to your Master. I'm sure he'd do the torturing for me."

He knew he'd struck home when a terrified shudder went through her. She then turned away from him, her cheeks flushing a bright purple in her shame. She'd let him trick her. And what's worse, she had been craven enough to beg him to stop. She couldn't prevent the powerful sob that shook her whole body.

Higzashi sat beside her on the bed, gently running the back of his finger up and down her cheek to try and calm her. "There, there, little one..."

"Master was right," she whimpered in a quivering voice. "I'm such a coward."

Raising his brow, Higzashi snorted. "Why? Because you're afraid? Because you have an instinct for self preservation?" He snorted. She felt him caress her side. She didn't understand why that felt soothing, but it slowly calmed her sobs. "Those don't make you a coward. A feeling of fear is healthy. To be afraid of pain or death is natural." The Ha'trin continued to speak softly. "It is not the lack of fear that makes you strong. That just makes you a fool."

Shime shuddered. She had to get a hold of herself. Obviously this Ha'trin had no intentions of torturing her. So she turned to look at him, but she couldn't quite meet his black eyes. "If you're not going to torture me, then what are you going to do to me?" Despite how brave she tried to sound, he could hear her voice crack.

Higzashi tapped his chin in thought. "Well, first I thought it might be a good idea to have some dinner. Then, I think you need a shower." He shrugged nonchalantly. "Then sleep. I don't know about you, but I get tired of sleeping on the ground when I'm out on a mission."

Without waiting for her to answer, he leaned over her and unlocked the cuffs around her wrists. She quickly drew her arms down, trying to cover herself. When he removed the shackles from her ankles, she drew her legs together tightly as she sat up. She looked down at the clean, soft sheets of the bed when he stood, smiling down at her. "Can I at least have some clothes?" she asked meekly.

Higzashi shrugged. "You're just going to take them off later. But if you're so modest, then sure." He turned away, going to rifle through a drawer in his dresser. He found a long button shirt for her.

Whipping around, he caught Shime by surprise. He grabbed the wrist of the hand that held the dagger he had left on the small table next to the bed. Expertly, he twisted her arm behind her back, pulling her body tightly against his. Reaching up, he covered her hand with his, forcing her to hold the point of the blade against the space between her own vertebra. Her breathing was ragged, her back arching away from the cold, deadly metal.

"If you think killing me will somehow gain you the approval of your Master, I think more he will find a way to denounce your claim and keep you his own personal beaten mutt." Higzashi's voice was calm. He wasn't angry with her. He could see that stunned her the most.

She had to gulp the lump out of her throat. "How do you know that?" she asked. She was trembling, feeling every muscle of him pressed against her.

Higzashi shrugged. "Which part? That I know you're a cross breed or that I know your Master treats you like a slave under the guise of student?"

Again he could see the shock on her face. He had to smile. "Dear, you do not live as long as I have without learning a few things about people. All humanoids share certain similarities. It's those similarities that allowed us to evolve to rule over the other beasts. We all share more or less the same emotions, and we all express them more or less the same way. Without those emotions and expressions, we never would have been able to communicate with each other, and thus live in packs, clans, tribes and eventually entire civilizations. I've been watching your reactions all this time. Someone who acts like you do does not get that way for no reason. The circumstances of our lives are what make us who we are, as much as our choices to stay victims to those circumstances."

So engrossed in what he said, Shime didn't realize the Ha'trin had removed the dagger from her grasp until he stepped away from her, holding up the shirt for her. She blinked at it, glancing up at him briefly as if she didn't believe that he was going to let her get away with attempting to kill him. After a moment, she heard his gentle voice again. It was pleasant to her ears, unlike her Master's sadistic drawl. "You did ask for clothes. The longer you diddle-daddle, the longer it will be before we can get some food in you."

"Why do you care?" she asked suspiciously, though she didn't meet his gaze.

"Is there a reason I should not?"

"I'm Ha'tinre. You're Ha'trin." She glanced up at him.