Behind Bars

by Meredith Katz

  Too cheerily to pass for normal, Bruant said, "Dad thinks I should try to run the bar alone tonight to see how I'll handle it! So I'll be taking over for him today."

  "Is that so?" Tari came over, stretching, then ruffled Bruant's hair. "Good luck, kiddo. Don't let the Villem boys eat you alive out there."

  Bruant ducked under it, making a face. "It's not the first time or anything, but thanks. It'll be fine."

  "I didn't say it wouldn't be fine," Tari said, voice teasing. "I said good luck."

  Pel, watching them, found his breath had decided to take his leave without permission. A mess of emotions welled up in him: guilt at what he was about to do, anger at himself and the situation, hope that maybe she was human after all. She fit so nicely in their family, teasing Bruant like she'd known him for years.

  Even as he thought it, though, he chided himself more. It wasn't right to cast her in that role, especially without her permission. She didn't seem like someone who could be pinned down to one person, or who would want to stay in one place.

  And she was, perhaps, too much like Phalene, who had wanted something more than what she'd had, wanted adventure and travel and to experience what this city didn't allow, and it had killed her. He didn't think he could handle that a second time.

  Besides, under the circumstances, it wasn't something he dared consider. Absurd to be trying to entrap her and to find himself longing to be wrong at the same time.

  He was startled out of his thoughts as Kip, apparently having enough with the roughhousing as Tari got Bruant into a headlock, leaped off Bruant and landed on Pel. He froze at the sudden shifting weight, worried that the cat might slip and claw him, but Kip just headbutted him gently in the jaw before staring at him from far too close.

  Tari laughed. "Looks like he likes you," she commented.

  And that was damn weird. Pel had barely interacted with the animal, following Tari's advice in leaving him to be something for his son, rather than something they shared. And Kip had seemed uninterested in anyone but Bruant.

  But even so, gazing into the animal's gold eyes, he found himself relaxing, the frustration and anger melting away. It was abruptly easy to see why someone as emotional as Bruant would be so comforted to have the creature around.

  "Hup, let me get him off you," Tari said, putting her hands around the cat's ribs and lifting him off Pel. Kip let out a protesting meow but settled down at once as she handed him back to Bruant. "You looked like you were afraid to move, Pel."

  "A little bit," Pel admitted. He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, then took advantage of the current mood to hold out a hand to her.

  She blinked, then smiled at him a little coyly as she took it. "What's this about?"

  "I asked if you had a moment," he reminded her.

  "And I said I did. Several moments, really," she added. "Maybe more."

  "Will you come upstairs with me?" he asked.

  Tari only looked at him, eyes calm and measuring. Then she folded her hand more tightly with his, sliding their fingers together, and led the way to the stairs.

  Shit. I promised to help Bru with the setup.

  Well, whatever. Bruant could manage it.

  Tari stopped at the door to her room, but he shook his head, tugging on their joined hands, leading her to his room instead. It was half to comfort himself—both in terms of the familiarity and to know he had his amulet in the drawer next to the bed, where he'd stored it ages ago for easy grabbing if something happened in the night—and half to keep her off kilter, away from whatever protections she might have set up on her own room.

  If she were a demon, anyway.

  Tari went willingly enough, hand tightening on his more in what seemed like reassurance to him than any alarm of her own. He let her in, dropped her hand, and walked over to the bed. "I—"

  He turned, and was surprised to see she'd followed him immediately and was standing close, well within his personal bubble. She grinned at him, amused. "You wanted to talk?"

  "I didn't say that I wanted to talk," he said, and immediately winced. That hadn't been suave at all. Demanding, maybe, which he didn't think was terribly attractive. "I—"

  Tari watched him, head tilted, that amused expression still on her face. And then it shifted somehow into something softer, even a touch wistful. "Are you sure?"

  Pel blinked, and drew an unsteady breath. His self-doubts welled up again like water from a wrung cloth. Redirect them. Disguise them. "I'm sorry. I'm doing this all wrong."

  "Little bit," she said, fondly teasing. "But I just meant that you look troubled. Do you want to tell me about it? Maybe I can make you feel better."

  "No," he said. It came out hoarse. "I don't."

  "Then, do you want to distract yourself?" she asked, and reached out, sliding a hand against his jaw, brushing the scars there.

  He felt terrible. But even so, her touch was warm and appealing. She smelled good, he noticed, from this close.

  It didn't feel terrible to want her, at least. Just to know why he was acting on it.

  "Yeah," he breathed.

  "All right," she said comfortably, and leaned in.

  She kissed on the knife's edge of sweetness and promise, a hint of teeth and tongue in between gentle movements. He drew a sharp breath in through his nose and kissed her back clumsily, long out of practice, wrapping his arms around her and feeling her narrow frame against his body.

  Pel heard himself make a sound, wanting her helplessly, and, momentarily, he let himself give in to desire. He did want to distract himself, to forget his suspicions and fears and anger and his old, old memories that wouldn't go away. To feel her and enjoy her and have her enjoy him. To make her feel good. He wanted, after, to lie with her and laugh together. He wanted to think of a future, and, fuck, that was a lot of pressure to put on himself, let alone another person, but he wanted, he wanted—

  Tari drew Pel down onto the bed and sat with him, thigh pressed to thigh as they twisted to kiss each other. He tangled his fingers in her thick hair, her perfect, never-tangled hair, and held her in place as he kissed her roughly. She pressed both hands to his jaw, uncallused fingers catching at his ears and the fine hairs at the back of his neck, rubbing there.

  It was good. More than good. Every touch of her fingers seemed to burn their way into him. It had been too long, he thought as he slid his hand from her hair down her neck, resting on her shoulder. Too much time spent with grief forming a wall between him and anyone else. Too many years of ghosts and memories welling up under his fingertips when he'd tried to press them to anyone else.

  He groaned, tilting his head back as she mouthed along his neck, feeling her grin a little.

  "You're so sensitive," she breathed.

  "It's been… a while," he said, not sure exactly why he was admitting it except for how intrusive the thought was.

  "That's all right," she murmured, eyes heavy. "Don't worry about anything."

  She unfastened the laces of his shirt before pulling back enough to help tug it over his head. He leaned forward to make that easier for her, and drew a deep breath when it came off, as though it had been restricting him somehow.

  Tari looked at him with heated eyes, grinning a little and biting down on her lower lip. "Well, damn," she said. "Don't you look good."

  Pel flushed a little, self-conscious, but smiled back. He wasn't as fit as he was in his youth, but he was, at the moment, extremely relieved he still exercised. He reached for her again, putting both hands on her waist as Tari ran a hand over his chest, fingers combing through the hair in the center briefly on their way outward, until she found a nipple and traced a fingernail over it.

  The shock of pleasure that it sent through him was surprisingly sharp, and he groaned, feeling his hard cock twitch in his pants. "Damn. Tari…"

  "Mmhm?"

  "Let me…" He leaned forward to do the same to her, unbuttoning her shirt, exposing warm brown skin in a slowly growing strip toward her navel, then pushed it off her
shoulders, showing small, firm breasts with pointed dark nipples.

  Pel's breath caught. He wanted her so badly.

  But this is wrong.

  He couldn't do this. Whether she were a human or a demon, he was taking advantage of her to try to trap her. Even if she turned out to be human, it didn't change what he was doing. He had thought he would be capable of that—he'd thought it was justifiable. Finding a line he couldn't cross was a surprise.

  But a line was a line.

  Pel's gaze jerked up to her face, and he saw caution there. She'd seen him hesitate, and she was responding to it with more care than an innocent would necessarily have.

  He had to find out one way or another. It was a stupid idea. He'd already decided that. But even so, he heard himself blurt it out:

  "You're not human," he asked, hearing it come out plaintive. Stupid. Begging for honesty, and knowing she'd lie if she were dishonest. "Are you?"

  She sighed. Unselfconscious in her near nudity but unhappy now, she lifted a hand and pushed some of her hair back.

  "No," she said, tone heavy. "Sorry. Uh, can we still do this?"

  He could do nothing but stare at her. She looked unrepentant about it—matter-of-fact, really, gazing back at him with more resignation than guilt.

  His next inhalation seemed to burn his lungs as rage welled up.

  Pel grabbed Tari's wrist with his right hand at the same time as he grabbed his bedside drawer with his left, yanking it open so hard that it almost went flying. He'd cleared out all but one thing, however, making it easy to grab the string of the amulet in his fist.

  Tari let out a groan of displeasure as he did so but didn't pull away even as he thrust the binding amulet in her face. She didn't flinch or show any other visible reaction to it.

  "Tell me, demon," he said, and wished his voice wasn't shaking—wished, if he couldn't stop it, that it sounded as though he was shaking with rage instead of betrayal. "What's your true name? You're no Toutarelle."

  "Still Tari," Tari said, voice finally a little strained. "Tarigan. You don't need to try to control me, sweetheart, I answered when you asked me properly."

  "Tarigan. By your name, I demand you answer my questions."

  Judging from her actual flinch, that little bit of demonology he'd picked up from the Inquisition seemed to be true: a demon was bound by their name more than by any object. Mixed with the amulet's warding, it should force her to obey.

  "Pel, please," Tari said, more strained than before, but with an exaggerated patience, somehow putting sarcasm into every word. "I'm answering them, sweetheart."

  He didn't want to hear her call him by the nickname she'd given him. He shook the amulet, half to cover his trembling. He needed to keep his momentum up or he wasn't sure he could do this. Not again. "What kind of demon are you?"

  "Cubant," Tari said, strained and forcing a smile. "Though I think you figured that out already. You're holding my wrist a bit tight."

  He fought the urge to loosen his grip. "You gave yourself away."

  "Yeah, I realized," Tari said. "Probably in a lot of ways. Somehow I got comfortable around you. I usually default between sexes, and since it didn't look like you were going to go for me and find out, I let myself just look how I usually do for a few days there."

  "Between—?" Pel found himself fumbling the conversation.

  "Between. I'm usually a they, not a he or a she. I enjoy it most when I'm an intercubus, not an incubus or succubus. I was a bit concerned that correcting your immediate assumption could have given me away even faster in a suspicious place like this," Tari said dryly, "so I let you think I was female. Once sex was on the table, I thought I'd change to keep up with the assumption."

  With a sudden squirm against Pel's grip on their wrist, Tari's body shifted just slightly, as though they were exhaling a breath they'd been holding, making their small breasts smaller, wide shoulders wider. A more familiar figure, even when Pel hadn't noticed that the one he'd been touching was unfamiliar at all, too caught up in touching Tari to notice anything else.

  Pel shook his head, trying to clear his blush away, trying to focus again. "That's not the point," he said. "I don't—care about that. That doesn't have anything to do with anything—" Why had they even brought it up? Trying to distract him?

  Tari blinked. "Wait, you didn't notice I'd shapeshifted? I thought that was why you asked."

  He stared at Tari, forcing himself to keep his gaze on their face.

  "You really didn't. Man," Tari groused, "I was sure it'd be that and now I'm all embarrassed. So I guess it was something else that clued you in. So what was it? My personality? A little too worldly for a human lifespan, was that it?"

  She's still so herself. Themself. "Shut up, demon."

  "You just got my name—"

  Pel was rapidly losing control of the situation, and knew it. He shook Tari's wrist, yanking them forward. The amulet was pressing against their cheek now, and they made an expression like they could smell something unpleasant.

  "Tell me, Tarigan," he said, as coldly as he could manage, "why did you come here? What do you want from us? From myself, from Bruant, from this city?"

  Tari tilted their head back, a muscle in their jaw jumping. It seemed more like annoyance than tension. "Put that thing down, okay? I'll answer honestly, Pel. I owe you that for all the help you've given me here—"

  He didn't put the amulet down. "Tell me."

  Tari sighed. Their arm tensed like they were planning to use demonic strength to pull away despite the presence of the binding amulet—and then they just relaxed instead, sagging back into the bed.

  He found himself leaning over them again in order to keep the amulet in their face. Tari's wrist was over their head, still in his grip, but they seemed to be doing their best to get comfortable regardless, tucking their other hand behind their head as a makeshift pillow, closing their eyes.

  Despite everything he knew now, it was still erotic to see them lying on the bed like that, half-naked and practically beneath him. That sense of betrayal welled up in him again, and he gritted his teeth, about to repeat his question.

  Tari started speaking before he had the chance. "I'm not here to hurt anyone, Pel. I know you probably won't believe me, especially with what you've gone through, but I'm not." They opened their eyes slowly, looking up at him again. "Are you willing to believe me, or at least, try to?"

  It was exactly what he wanted to hear, and he couldn't help but wonder if they knew that. He bit his lower lip almost too hard and then shrugged once. "Go on," he said.

  A smile passed over Tari's lips briefly. It didn't stay, vanishing like it was on a trip and had only needed a place to rest. "Look, sweetheart, I'm not young," they said finally. "So I get bored. And I'm not old, so I don't get set in my ways. I like people. I like exploring new things. I wanted to see what it was like in a city like this. As you'd guessed, we do get curious about the places we're not allowed to go."

  "How did you fool the guards?" He refused to let himself get sidetracked.

  Tari shrugged. "I just answered their questions. When they bled me, I made blood. Shapeshifters have an easier time than some demons, and cubants have the easiest time of all. We're very familiar with humanity."

  Getting more frustrated, he pushed harder. "How did you get around their wards?"

  "Trade secret."

  "Tarigan."

  "That is my name," they agreed, annoyed. Then, "Honestly, it's just a cubant thing, because we're so physical. We still feel wards and they affect us, but they do so less than more spirit-like demons. It's not comfortable but it's easier. We're weak in other areas to compensate, mind, but even what you're doing now, I could make myself not answer—at least for a little while. I can't get up and go anywhere while you're doing that, but I'm choosing to talk to you, Pel."

  That explained the amount of back-talk, at least. Pel slowly lowered his hand a little, cautious that they might be lying. But then, if Tari could break the binding enough
to lie, they had to be telling the truth—

  "I just wanted to know what it was like. I've never seen humans without demons around before," Tari said, a little wistful. "And I like… I like humans. Though I mostly like teaching humans about demons, so that's not an option here. But I thought it'd be educational, to see that… lack. That emptiness. The space where demons aren't."

  Pel made himself breathe slowly and gently around the ache that soft tone brought up. "And what do you think now that you have?"

  "Looks to me like you've compensated for the lack of demons by becoming predators all on your own," Tari said seriously, a faint line of concern between their brows. "Maybe you always were, even before we came to your world. Not sure how I feel about that. Really not sure. At least some of you are still cute and willing to compromise. Your son has the right idea."

  That was the wrong thing to say. There was a moment where Pel thought that, calm, before the anger hit again, like water drawn back from the shore before a crushing wave came down.

  It smashed into him. He grabbed their wrist harder and slammed it down to the bed, leaning over them, resting the amulet against their face again. They flinched, then looked up at him with no other reaction, unsmiling.

  "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Tarigan?" he demanded. "What have you done to Bruant?"

  Tari sighed heavily. "All I meant," they said, in a tone like this all was more an imposition than a threat, "was that it's good to see someone like Bruant questioning your way of life. Frankly, I think everyone should. Question what it's like to live under demons. Question what it's like not to. Question what it means to live alongside them, what they are, how to face them with confidence."

  "Answer my question," he growled. "What have you done to Bruant? Have you slept with him? Have you hurt him, have you—"

  "That's a good question!" Tari said in an irritably cheery tone. "The answer is no—no to all of it—but you have no reason to believe me, and if you don't believe me, you believe he's under demonic influence. But, more to the point, say you use your binding here and my name to try to turn me over to the Inquisition, wear me down with it until I have to go along. If I tell them that I've influenced Bruant, that he's mine now—whether he is or not, what will happen to him?"