Vitiosi Dei (Heritage of the Blood Book 2) by Brent Lee Markee Page A

the knob labeled hot, he heard a series of barely audible whistling sounds inside the wall before the water sputtered to life and began to spray down on him in earnest.
                  The water felt really good at first, but it quickly reached the point where he thought that it was going to burn him. Not wanting to get scalded, he turned the knob in the opposite direction, shutting off the stream of water. He then decided that the cold water might indeed be preferable.
                  As always, the cold water was rather invigorating, quickly taking away any of the sleepiness that might be lingering. On the streets, he had never been entirely clean, so he hadn't ever missed it, but his time at Nim's had taught him how much better a liberal application of soap and water could make a person feel. Shawnrik decided that he could get used to being clean and wearing a freshly laundered set of clothing.
                  Pulling out the towel he had grabbed on his way in, Shawnrik patted himself dry before putting on his clean clothes. As he exited the stall, he noticed Verrian and several other guys standing in front of the large mirror that ran from the first sink to the last. He watched as they combed their hair and did something to their teeth that made them foam at the mouth.
                  Running his hand through his hair, Shawnrik realized that it was probably a good idea to try to tame his dark locks. He had left his comb back in his room, however, and he didn't think he needed to stare at himself in the mirror to comb his hair anyway—he never had before. Checking to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, Shawnrik marched out of the room while pointedly ignoring the dangerous looking stranger that marched along with him from the other side of the mirror.
                  Verrian was on Shawnrik's heels as he opened the door to their room.  Shawnrik was glad to note that Verrian seemed more alert and slightly less grouchy than he had been earlier. Shawnrik also noted, and not for the first time, how much more light and comfortable everyone's clothes seemed to be compared to his. They reminded him of the outfits that Nim had tailored for Victor and himself when they had first met him. However, he had outgrown those clothes when his body had decided to go through a major growth spurt during his imprisonment in the Blood Orc camp. The only clothes he owned now were the ones he had gotten from the seamstress in Tranquility Mist, which were made for much colder climates than the one he found himself in now.
                  “Verrian?”
                  “Yeah?” the little man replied, pulling on a pair of socks.
                  “Can I ask a few questions?” Shawnrik asked.
                  “Sure, no problem. We have a few minutes until breakfast starts.” Verrian threw his dirty clothes into a heap next to the chest at the end of his bed.
                  “Okay.” Shawnrik took a breath. “First, I suppose, would be, who takes showers using the hot water? It nearly burned me!”
                  Verrian froze, stuck reaching for his shoes, before he slowly turned his head to look at Shawnrik. “You... aren't kidding, are you?” As the confusion set in on Shawnrik's face, Verrian fell over laughing. “You're not!”
                  Shawnrik had never been the type of person who liked being laughed at, and he liked even less feeling like he was dumb. At that moment, he was getting a little bit of both from his roommate. Verrian looked up after a few moments of laughter and quickly began making placating gestures and letting his laughter die, seeing the danger that he was currently in.
                  “Oh man, I'm sorry,” Verrian said, wiping a tear from his eye. “I grew up in Serenity Valley, so I forget just how far the rest of the world is behind us in