"Enough of this, bitch." 1 whispered very evenly, staring out the window at the darkness.
She looked at him, a bit confused, "Do you dare? Do you dare speak to me like this?"
He grinned savagely at her. "Oh, my dear, the coming dawn may not bother you, but it bothers us..."his words became lower and lower. "The Dark of the Moon is over." He raised his hands to press the point. Dark claws had appeared, ripping through the tips of his fingers.
Her eyes widened; the truth was evident. She flung herself off the bed, landing on the balls of her feet. She had control of her pets, but the change was never, ever good. They were too unstable, too unpredictable. How could she have been so stupid to lose track of the Night?
1 and 2's bodies writhed on the bed, skin in constant motion. She ran to the Highboy, flung open a drawer, and drew out a black signal whip, the fall on it brightly red. 1's eyes caught hers, and he howled, his muzzle appearing, fangs growing, and black fur spreading. She slowly swung the whip back and forth, a deadly pendulum. "No ideas, 1. None, or I will take the skin from your back." 2 had changed quicker than 1, perhaps only because he was smaller. Where his scars had run, ivory fur now ran. Otherwise, his pelt was snow white. 2 gracefully, sleekly, got off the bed, and stood on his hind legs, his cock unsheathed, the length of a baby's arm.
