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in the middle of the room. The swords and knives placed close to the firing range. There was all the gym equipment that one could need.

But, things were different.

The light was sharper, allowing him to see the details. He could see the thin rip in the punching bag all the way across the room. He could focus on the scratches on the base of the rowing machine. Even the smells were stronger. He would never have been able to scent the small drop of blood that lingered on the floor beside the practice mats.

He could tell that it belonged to Jai.

He had only been up for a few weeks and already he knew that he was stronger. He broke a glass the other day when he went to wash it. He crunched the doorknob and he splintered a door when he knocked. Connor was sure that heā€™d be a better fighter now, but that didnā€™t matter. He would do anything to turn the clock back.

Because, no matter how long heā€™d live, or how good heā€™d be able to fight, he was still a monster. He was still a plague on society.

He was now a part of a race without souls, without redemption, forced to live on the blood of Humans. Heā€™d give anything to be Human again, for now he was the very thing he hunted.

Connor felt disgusted with himself, and forced himself farther into the room. He could smell the sweat of people who had been there before. He could feel the heat in the air from their practices. He could focus on all the tiny little details and pick them apart until he knew all their secrets.

However, he wouldnā€™t. He didnā€™t want to use those ill-gotten powers.

ā€œWell, hey wonder-boy.ā€ A voice said behind him, almost too loud for his sensitive ears. Connor winced, and turned so quickly that he almost stumbled. ā€œWoah, be careful!ā€ The blond Lion-Shifter said, his movements deceptively lazy as he strolled further into the room.

Connor had always been in awe of Julianā€™s grace, of his mastery over his body. Julian was the type of person not to waste any energy, but he could spring into action at the slightest hint of danger. It was all a part of his make-up. Of his physiology. Connor knew this, because he studied it in detail.

Just like he studied everything.

His need to know information started when he was a child. He was always curious, always just a little brighter than his peers. And then, he skipped grades, having learned more quickly than the other kids. He graduated high school early, and knew what he wanted, what he needed to do with his life.

Heā€™d seen movies, read books, and he wanted to be a superhero. Then, he learned of the real heroes, the men and women who worked to make sure that the country was safe from those wanting to hurt it. So, he signed up for the military. He picked the Navy. Not at random, but after years of research. They were the best, they were the bravest and the strongest.

After years of dedication, he became a part of a secret team which rescued people, which put a stop to insurgents quickly and quietly. He was the intelligence officer, having the brain power to provide. He was called the Whiz Kid, the youngest on the team. Then, the youngest to run a team.

All that changed when they came across a group of ā€˜peopleā€™ who were kidnapping Humans. At first, they thought it might be for human trafficking, or possibly organ collection. It wasnā€™t until they got there that they realized what their ignorance had overlooked.

They werenā€™t alone on earth, and some things were scarier than a man with a gun. Axelā€™s people were already on the case, and they put their heads together to figure out a way to shut the kidnapping down. It didnā€™t take a genius to figure out that switching out of the military, joining the Fallen Angelā€™s team, would save a lot more lives than what he was doing. Because anyone could take his place, but there werenā€™t too many people who knew about the Hidden.

Now he was one of them.

ā€œEarth to Whiz Kid. I know that huge brain of yours has lots of little crannies to get stuck in, but itā€™s only polite to pay attention. You Americans and your horrible manners.ā€

It seemed weird hearing that complaint in an American accent. It was so easy to forget that Julian came from South Africa. Where in South Africa, Connor didnā€™t know. His research hadnā€™t found anything more specific than that. The Lion-Shifter Pride was very secretive.

As they should be.

ā€œWhat do you want, Julian?ā€ he asked, hearing the booming sound of his voice. Even that was too loud, as if his bones amplified it. He never knew if he shouted or whispered. He hadnā€™t exactly practiced talking to people since his transformation.

ā€œI heard that you were looking for a sparring partner.ā€ The blond mad said, stretching his body as he did so. It always reminded Connor of a cat. He certainly had the mannerisms.

And do you have the mannerisms of a blood-sucking Demon?

Sure, he knew they werenā€™t Demons. He knew they were infected with a virus passed through their blood. But all the research in the world wouldnā€™t help him come to grips with his new life. Hell, he wasnā€™t sure he wanted to live it.

ā€œYeah, no one will take me on.ā€ He wanted to portray a cocky edge, but his voice just sounded dry. The reason people avoided him wasnā€™t because of intimidation. They didnā€™t want to fight with him out of fear that heā€™d break. They thought him fragile, body and mind. Heā€™d seen the pity in their eyes. He knew that they didnā€™t want to show him how badly they felt. But it was written on their

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