The sounds we release as skin slaps against skin are the animals in us no longer dormant, our nature at its most primal and wanting. A series of thund...rclaps rage in the distance, skyward explosions matching the erratic racing of our hearts. Those violent bursts are like us, sudden and inevitable, pressures that have to flex and contract and scream.You cry out in something like a lost language, something close to words and so private. I'm allowed to hear the incantations but never their full. He retained cognition when nearly anyone else wouldn't. His sense of 'self' was unshakeable.Whatever it was, it seemed genetic. Duke young retained the same level of cognition. Luckily for her, he embraced her efforts instead of resisting, like his father did. She'd made sure their contract included bringing his wife and son for his monthly visits. She didn't really care about the wife, there wasn't anything they could learn there. She'd resisted a tiny bit more than normal, but well within a. More

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