Dorian

Dorian stood in the head physician's office, his hand casually tucked into his trouser pocket. His black jacket was spotless. The head physician, sweating, handed him a folder.

"Are you sure, Mr. Dorian? The boy is unstable. He's not socialized. We tried... we tried to make a man out of him, but he prefers to be an animal. It's a defense mechanism."

"I'm taking him," Dorian's voice was as even as a blade. "The papers are signed. Guardianship is finalized."

When the paramedics brought Mark in, he was muzzled (to prevent him from biting) and his hands were bandaged. His ears were flat against his head, his tail lashed nervously against his legs. He looked at Dorian with a wild, hateful gaze.

Dorian approached him. The orderlies tensed, expecting the boy to attack. But Dorian simply removed the muzzle.

Mark hissed, baring his fangs.

"Quiet," Dorian said. His voice was nonthreatening, but with such absolute authority that Mark froze. "There are no more doctors here. And no more cages."

Dorian's apartment was huge, immaculately clean, and eerily empty. No photographs, no belongings. Just panoramic windows, black furniture, and cold light.

Mark immediately huddled in the corner behind the sofa. He shed his hospital gown, leaving himself in only his shorts, and curled up into a ball. His ears perked up, he listened to every sound.

Dorian ignored him. He poured himself a whiskey, sat down in a chair, and opened his laptop.

Dorian didn't try to make a man out of Mark. He didn't force him to eat with a spoon, didn't scold him for sharpening his claws on the expensive sofa, and didn't disturb him sleeping on the windowsill. But Dorian needed emotion. He studied him.

Mark hissed at the vacuum cleaner. Mark was scared of loud noises. Mark rubbed his head against the table legs when he thought no one was watching.

“Listen to me carefully, Mark,” he said. “There are no rules in this house. You can break things. You can sleep wherever you want. You can eat off the floor. I don’t care.”

"But there is one rule," Dorian leaned closer, his face a centimeter from the boy's. "You belong to me."