by Alexa Black
Kara laughed. Her claws kneaded at Sue’s flesh one last time, not gently enough, but then subsided again. She lowered her head, and Sue took a ragged breath. The sound filled the space between them.
“Someday,” Kara whispered. “Someday, perhaps, I will tell you.”
Someday. If someday comes, I’ll have been here a long time.
Kara opened her hand, slid her fingers over Sue’s skin like any human lover. They slipped over her breasts and ghosted over her nipples. Sue felt them harden under Kara’s touch and let out a long moan.
“Interesting.” Kara chuckled again. “What else can I make you do, little human?”
Sue felt obligated to glare. She tried, but Kara was already moving again, her hands tracing the contours of Sue’s stomach, pausing at the white taut skin of an old scar, and slipping farther down, toward her hips…
Sue stared up at Kara through half-lidded eyes. In her unfocused, hazy gaze, the horned, fire-eyed figure in front of her looked just like any succubus. Any temptress she’d ever heard about or read about or seen in a holomovie. Or imagined, in the middle of some too-dark night when only strange fantasies would do. Shadow-wings framed Kara’s body, and her light shone gold against it.
She opened her thighs wide, wondering if lowly human skin, with its wrinkles and its softness and its smells and its dirt, could ever be enough.
But if that mattered to Kara, she gave no sign. Curious fingers slipped past Sue’s hips and paused at the slick flesh they found there. Kara’s eyes widened, a bright stab of gold, and then her fingers moved over Sue’s labia. Sue twitched and arched her hips, half in response and half to say this, yes, good.
But Kara wasn’t Sue’s dream succubus. Demon or no, Kara was a person, a real one, with her own body. And its own needs, if fallen angels were anything like humans. Sue reached out her other arm and wrapped it around Kara’s back, a jolt of sensation running through her arm and wrist as they cut through the mist of shadows around her.
Kara shook her head. Sue froze. She wanted to touch Kara, wanted to make Kara feel something. But she was a stranger here, a human in a world for beings who were so much more than that.
All right. I’ll wait.
Kara pulled her fingers away. Sue whimpered at the loss. But Kara only held them up, Sue’s wetness glistening on them, and turned them back and forth, studying them.
“You don’t have…?” Sue tried.
“We do. But not like this. Not quite.” Kara raised her fingers to her nose and sniffed at them. Sue thought of the pungent scent, and a thrill of nervousness ran through her. But Kara just favored her with a lopsided grin.
“Let me see what you have,” Sue said, emboldened.
Kara laughed and lowered her hand to Sue’s flesh again. “Perhaps. Not yet.”
But before Sue could ask about that, Kara ran her fingers over Sue’s labia again and then slipped them between them. Sue gasped and forgot to argue. Kara snickered, paused a moment at Sue’s entrance, and pushed her fingers in.
Sue gasped out a welcome and bucked against Kara’s fingers. Maybe that was risky, maybe that was dangerous. She’d seen those claws. But she’d also chosen this, agreed to this, and now she wanted everything.
Kara’s fingers inside her felt both foreign and familiar. Like anything else, anyone else, filling her up and beginning to move. But the texture felt different, unyielding as stone, hard enough to claim her, to take more than any human lover ever had.
And Kara’s fingers were warm, filled with her inner fire. Sue looked up at Kara leaning down over her. It blazed from the cracks in her shoulders, in her chest, and smoldered in her hungry eyes.
Yes, Sue thought, yes, and screamed it aloud, not caring how she sounded. This was no world she knew, and only someone more than human would hear it anyway. Her hand curled against Kara’s back, her fingernails digging into the space where a human’s spine would be.
Kara laughed again. Her thumb moved to Sue’s clit and thrilled there even as her fingers slipped deeper.
Sue tried to keep her eyes open. She wanted to look back at Kara, stare into those burning, alien eyes. But Kara pulled her thumb away again, a loss that made Sue throw back her head and keen again.
Then Kara drove her fingers into Sue, fast and rough, heedless of Sue’s delicate flesh. Sue froze, locked around Kara’s fingers, and then spasmed hard, again and again and again.
Chapter Nine
Sue floated in a haze. Her sex spasmed with the rhythm of aftershock. She stared up at the ceiling, the bluish-tinted lights. Where was she? No place on the colony looked this clean, and she couldn’t remember that color.
She blinked unfocused eyes, watched blurry shadows chase themselves across her vision. That was familiar. A dark silhouette hovered over her, streaks of gold glittering in its midst. Was this a dream?
Kara. She rubbed her eyes. “Seems you like humans after all.”
Kara laughed. “Fair enough.”
“Then come here.”
Kara only chuckled. But she sat on the edge of Sue’s little cot, all the same.
“We’ll have to find a bigger bed,” Sue teased her. Kara grinned back. “Now let me touch you.” Sue reached out and wrapped her hands around Kara’s back, careful to avoid her shoulders. The shadowy remnants of Kara’s wings were warm, as before, the heat and the heavy air reminding Sue they’d once had real weight. She wrapped her hands around Kara’s sides and slid them down, trying to be as sensual as Kara had been before.
She looked up at Kara, studying her reaction. Then she saw her reward: a flicker in Kara’s eyes, a slight part of her thick lips. Sue sat up straighter, eager. Kara might have been a demon, an alien, a strange being whose origin Sue could only guess at and Sue’s old religion probably didn’t answer either. But Kara was a woman, and Kara wanted her, and that was all that really mattered.
A bruising grip around her wrists stopped her. Sue yelped, half in pain and half in surprise. “Kara, what…?”
“Not now.”
“You keep saying that. What the hell do you mean?”
The grip on Sue’s wrists lessened. Then Kara let go entirely. Stung and still aching, Sue pulled her hands away and rubbed at her sore wrists.
Kara reached out a hand to cup Sue’s face. Sue flinched, feeling the claws against her skin. Her earlier elation was gone. Kara was still a demon, and that still meant something. Had she meant to be that rough, or did she just not know her own strength?
“Sue,” Kara said, in the kind of soothing tone Sue might have expected of a succubus, “surely you’re pleased with what just happened.”
“Yes. Yes, of course. But why won’t you let me touch you?”
Kara’s claw traced its way down her neck. Sue shuddered, not sure whether she was feeling desire all over again or recoiling.
“You are quite good enough without needing to touch me in return,” Kara said, still sliding her fingertip over Sue’s neck in the same lulling dance.
“Good enough? Good enough at what? I’m not even doing anything. You won’t let me!”
“I only meant—”
“Good enough? Or do you mean entertaining enough?”
Kara’s fingers froze. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I told you I’m not a pet, and you didn’t answer.”
“Human.”
Sue snorted. “See? There it is. ‘Human.’ Just ‘human.’ Like I could be anyone. Like some kind of creature.”
“Sue.”
“Thanks.”
Kara just stared at her.
Sue tried not to let it bother her. “Now tell me, what exactly was that guy Dehek talking about?”
“I told you already, hu…Sue. Dehek is a fool who thinks only of himself. He finds his pride in sneering at the dead ones, because he knows what we have lost.” Kara looked down. “And he is young. He wasn’t one of us. Wasn’t one of the army that failed and fell.”
“He lost his wings. Like the rest of you.”
“Yes.”
“But you just said he was too young.”
“That is also true. He was born after our revolt.”
“But then he never fell.” Sue shuddered, thinking of it. She didn’t like Dehek at all, but for an Outcast he was just a kid. A braggart. A swaggering little bully.
And sure, that was bad. Especially since Sue was only human. What terrible things could a rude brat do, if that rude brat was a demon?
Sue winced, remembering the fight. He’d thought she was one of the dead ones. He might want her to be, after Kara had humiliated him.
But did he really deserve those scars, ripped across his back? That incorporeal darkness, a memory of wings he’d never had?
Or, Sue thought with another violent shudder, wings he’d had and lost.
“All of our kin are born fallen, Sue,” Kara said. “Even the young ones. No Outcast is innocent.”
“That’s horrible!”
But even as she yelled it, something in the back of her mind said Salvation is for God’s people. Fallen angels can’t repent. They had their chance.
“Born paying for their mothers’ and their fathers’ sins.” Kara reached up, past her own shoulders, toward her back.
“Don’t!” Sue cried. But Kara’s clawed fingertips had already curled around her scar and slipped over it, again and again, running across the length of the scar and then beginning again.
Sue didn’t know what to say. How did you comfort a fallen angel who missed her wings? Whatever Sue said, it would be wrong. It would never be enough. Not quite. So she cleared her throat and said the only thing she could think of instead. “Do you regret it?”
Kara laughed, a bitter, choked echo. “No. No. I don’t regret it. No more than the one who led us.”
The one who led them. Sue gulped and remembered Kara’s claw against her skin. She almost wanted it back. The one who led them. The leader of the rebellion. The Lord of the Demons.
The greatest enemy humanity had ever had. If you believed the old religion, anyway. Sue looked around. Metal and glass. And computers, filled with scrolling pictures and words. Just like the colonies. Just like home.
Clearly, the old religion didn’t know everything.
“I don’t regret it,” Kara said again. “I would do it again, if we got another chance.” Her other hand curled, and her voice became a monstrous growl. Sue closed her eyes and saw swiping claws, a mist of red spraying the space behind her eyelids, a curled, still form on pavement, stained with blood.
It reminded her of home and made her wonder if the hell below was worse. Their Enemy is lucky he’s a god, Sue thought before she could stop herself.
“You’d do that again?” she said instead. She didn’t actually know what “that” was, not really, but she wasn’t sure what else to say. “Even though you lost?”
“It would be foolish. It would only bring us pain.” Kara growled. Her grip tightened over her scar, and Sue reached out reflexively.
“Don’t hurt yourself!” she tried. But Kara’s grip on her own scar only tightened, and she hissed like she’d dug in too hard.
Could angels bleed? She hadn’t seen blood when Kara cut Dehek, only his skin peeling and flaking away, exposing the light beneath. She shuddered. Kara’s scar was already so raw.
Sue curled her fingers around Kara’s hand, her grip as tight as she could make it. It probably meant nothing to a warrior demon, but she had to try. “Please. Stop.”
Kara stared back at Sue, the light in her eyes suddenly dull. That wasn’t good, but it might at least mean Kara had given up on hurting herself. Sue pulled Kara’s hand away from her scar, and Kara didn’t resist. She let Sue guide her hand back down to her side and lay it down against her thigh.
Sue let go and ran her fingers over the back of Kara’s hand. Kara’s eyes narrowed, and Sue couldn’t tell if they brightened or not, but it looked like she’d relaxed, at least. “There you go,” she said, just like she’d soothe an angry rider on her bus. “Whatever happened, you don’t need to relive it.”
Kara shook her horned head. “No. No, I don’t.” The corner of her mouth turned up. “Not for a human.”
Sue glared at her. She could live with Kara making jokes about humans. But… “You still haven’t told me what Dehek meant. And every time I ask you—”
Kara lifted her head. She slipped her hand out from under Sue’s and copied the gesture, running her fingers over the back of Sue’s hand and then sliding them higher, over her wrist and forearm. She curled her fingertips inward and skated the tips of her claws over Sue’s skin.
“Would it be so bad, Sue Jones, to be my pet?”
Chapter Ten
“Damn it, Kara, I’m not interested in being anyone’s pet!” Sue waved her arms in frustration.
Things had been going so well. She was touching Kara, Kara was touching her. She’d managed to make Kara feel better, after…whatever that was. The bad memories. Sue knew plenty about those. And what she knew had helped.
Hell, Kara might even have wanted her again, once she felt calmer. And then…that. Again.
Was that why Kara had rescued her in the first place? Just so she could keep her, like an animal or a possession?
Kara’s hand locked over her arm. Not a bruising grip, but tight enough to remind Sue that Kara wasn’t used to being gainsaid.
“What do you think you are here, Sue Jones?”
By now, Sue knew Kara’s voice, her glow, the claws, the shadow around her that once had been wings. But that tone was different, cold as a tomb and with a barbed monster roar somewhere beneath the sound. Even the room felt chilled.
“What do I think I am?” Sue repeated, feeling small.
“You are a living human. In a place where only dead ones belong. And the dead ones are here for punishment. For absolution, if they can find it.” She scowled. “Most never do.”
The dead. Sue thought of the storms, the winds. Would she ever see them? Could she, even? The Rings served as a shelter. Built by fallen angels. They looked so normal. Glass, metal, computer screens. Nothing like the citadels of hell Sue imagined when she heard tales of the lake of fire or looked at pictures of ancient tapestries.
But could she even go and look if she wanted? Her shuttle was here somewhere. Was it badly wrecked? Would the Outcasts bother to repair it? And even if they did, was it made of the same sturdy stuff as the demons’ city? Or would it fall apart if she ever tried to fly down there?
If she ever tried to discover what the Outcasts really did to people like her.
She looked over at Kara and shuddered. “You’re saying most of them think of me like Dehek does.”
“I’m saying most of them won’t think of you at all.”
“But you took me out. To the city, or the market, or whatever it was.”
“Yes.”
“Why do it?”
Kara tilted her head. “What?”
“Why save me? The others would have left me. You didn’t. And they thought—what? That I was a dead soul you’d taken with you?”
“Perhaps. But Dehek could smell you, remember? Smell your living flesh. As could the others. As can I, if that really matters.”
“Then they knew.”
“They knew you were lost. That you were a—”
“A stray,” Sue finished for her.
Kara stared straight at Sue, her eyes wide. “What do you mean?”
“A lost dog.” Sue spat the words. “A creature. A lost animal, to take in and take care of.”
Kara stared at Sue and tilted her head with infuriating innocence. “What of it?”
“I’m a person, Kara, not an animal.”
“You are a mortal.”
What was Sue supposed to say to that?
“You’re a human. You breathe air. You eat other creatures, plant or animal. You cannot survive without consuming. Even if you could, in the end you would still pass away. You are young, for your kind. But even now, you bear the marks of injuries your fl
esh and your muscles and your bones cannot heal.”
She stared down at Sue lying on the bed, looking at her side. “Did you really think I never noticed your leg?”
Dammit.
“You are a mortal, Sue Jones. We may be Outcasts, still paying for our sins against our Enemy, but to beings like you, we might as well be gods.”
Kara closed her eyes. Then she hummed, a shapeless note. Wistful like the singers before, though she didn’t have their instruments.
Or their voices, by angels’ standards. Sue knew enough by now to tell that Kara was no singer. Still, to Sue it was beautiful, the memory of an existence Sue could only guess at.
The light bleeding through her cracks shimmered, suddenly bright. It poured forth from them, wreathing her in brightness, the shadow of her remembered wings a dark corona around the light.
The shadow and light merged, a feathery shape, black against white weaving one into the other. Sue knew before the dream-image came what she would see: a woman, her skin dark brown, shimmering and almost metallic. Her eyes were brown too, but shone with coppery light, little hints of Kara’s. A halo, like a sunburst, glowed behind her head. And behind her back flared her wings, a blaze of white light so bright Sue couldn’t make out their shape. She saw only white, a shape somewhere between a flicker of feathers and a sunburst.
The light curled around her like her shadows. But it moved with her. These were her wings. These were real. Were a part of her body, not just hints of limbs she’d lost millennia ago. She spread them out in a burst of light that stung Sue’s eyes.
There were no cracks in her skin to reveal her inner fire, but the play of light on her skin promised it nonetheless, faint waves dancing over it like water when she moved. And Sue could see it in her eyes, in her nose, pouring from her open mouth.
Her horns were gone too, the same faint ridges she’d seen on the dancers’ foreheads the only hint of where they’d been. Sue’s hands twitched with a sudden desire to run over the bumps.
I can’t. Sue tightened her hands into fists. The thing in front of her wasn’t something a human had any right to touch.