Getting Daemon home from the library had been the easy part - the boy had followed along obediently. He still refused to take her hand, even in the most crowded sections of the city, but he stayed close to her side. His entire aura screamed at people to back off, and so they did. Cerri found it rather useful, as she was bumped a lot less and didn't have to worry about getting knocked over by anyone who was in a hurry; street traffic parted for them as if for royalty, willing to give this dangerous-feeling boy space even if they didn't consciously realize why.

Settling him in had been another matter entirely. He'd balked at the food she'd tried to give him, snarled when she'd suggested he change for bed, and had thrown up a shield when she accidentally tried to brush his hair back before she bid him good night. Hitting her hand against it had caused her to sprain her wrist, and given her a healthy respect for his personal space. She wouldn't move too fast, she swore on that first night as she fell asleep, listening to the TV in the other room that Daemon watched as he did the same. She'd move at his pace, and eventually, he'd trust her.


Three days later, she wanted to throw in the towel. She'd taken him to the store, trying to get some nightshirts and things he would wear when she washed his clothes, and there had been too many people for him. His eyes had taken on that glazed, sleepy look that she knew meant trouble and put her on edge. The whole time she was there, she was waiting for trouble, and then it finally came.

A salesgirl came to their aid, despite Cerri's adamant protestations that they didn't need any help. On seeing Daemon come out of the dressing room in pajama pants and a tank top, she squealed and went to him before Cerri could stop her. "Aren't you just the cutest thing!" she told him, snapping the gum she chewed and tossing her hair. Instantly, the air around them felt several degrees colder, and she wanted to tell the teenage girl to run run run while she still could. Before she could open her mouth, however, the girl knelt before the boy and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. And suddenly, the cold screamed.

Without fully knowing what he was doing or why, he reached for strength that he knew would be there, in the jewel he wore around his neck. Using it, he pushed... and the teen and every rack of clothing around him went flying... the only thing that didn't was Cerri, because his instinctively put a shield around her. "Don't touch me." he growled out at the fallen salesgirl, advancing on her, eyes cold as an arctic wind. "No one touches me." The girl only whimpered, terrified.

Cerri watched for only a moment, stunned, then threw herself between him and the girl. "No one else will touch you, Prince." she told him, using his correct Blood Title. "But you cannot kill her. She didn't know. Come on. Change back into your clothes, and we'll leave. We'll go back to my apartment, where no one is there to touch you. Please Daemon." she pleaded. There was a long hesitation on his part, during which she thought her heart would burst out of her chest it was beating so hard. "Daemon..."

Finally, he nodded, some of the chill fading from the air. He went to the dressing room and shut the door with a silence that seemed to cause the walls to shake, and Cerri collapsed to the floor. "Holy Mother, Goddess of the Night, give me strength." she whispered, legs feeling like jelly, heart still galloping wildly. Did she really have what it took to raise him? Would she always be able to leash his temper before he really hurt someone? In her heart of hearts... she began to doubt.