Lucien Ashford's Arc

Chapter 3 of 5

The next morning the cat girls found Lucien pacing the manor yard. He had slept badly. The charm at his throat felt warm every time he thought of anything soft. He still did not know how it read him. Was it looking? Touching? A stray thought? He asked the cat girls straight out. They only grinned. "Come to town," the first one said. "You need clothes that fit that body. We'll teach you as we go." They walked him to a lace shop with a striped awning and dresses in the window. Inside, the air smelled of powder. Racks of short dresses lined the walls, purple, yellow, blue, green, each cut to hug a waist. Lucien froze at the door. "I am not wearing those," he said. The second cat girl pushed one into his arms. "The charm reads your body's heat," she said. "Not your eyes. Try things on. Stay calm. If your blood stays cool, you're safe." So he learned by testing. He pulled the yellow dress over the girl's body and looked in the mirror. He felt nothing but shame, and the charm stayed cold. "See?" the cat girl said. "Disgust is fine. Hate the dress all you want." Lucien understood then. The charm did not punish embarrassment. It punished wanting. He could look, wear, even touch, as long as his body stayed quiet as a stone. Relief loosened his shoulders. Then the shop door opened. Two men walked in, both broad and grinning. The dark one wore black open to the chest. The blond one wore a tight white shirt. They looked at Lucien in the yellow dress like wolves at a lamb. "Well," the blond said, "the shop got prettier." The dark one stepped close and reached for Lucien's waist. "Turn around, sweetheart. Let us see." Lucien's heart slammed. Not fear. Their eyes on him, their heat, their hands almost touching. The charm flared hot against his throat, sudden and sharp. He felt his own blood answer the attention, a warmth he did not choose. This was the danger. Not the dress. The wanting to be wanted. He shoved the dark man's hand away and stepped back hard. "Don't touch me," he said. His voice shook. The cat girls yanked him toward the counter. Lucien gripped the silver disc in his pocket until the edge bit his palm. He forced his breath slow. He pictured the sand, the cold, anything but those two grinning faces. Slowly the charm cooled. He had caught himself in time. One heartbeat later and the change might have locked forever. He paid for two short dresses and left without looking back. Outside, his hands still trembled. Now he knew the true test. Not cloth. Not shame. It was moments like that, other people's desire pulling his own awake. And the world was full of men like those two. Keeping his body quiet for a year would be harder than any fight.