Behind Bars

by Meredith Katz

  Uncomfortably, he had a good idea which one of them Kip found more threatening.

  Pel gathered up his cloak into a bundled roll, stalling briefly, not quite able to meet Tari's gaze. They waited for him, eyebrows raised, arms crossed.

  Slowly, agonizingly, he went down on one knee, then the other, lowering his head, deferential in spite of the chills it gave him to do so. "I'm sorry," he said, voice low, rough. "For what I said before."

  Although he couldn't see Tari's expression, his head still bowed, their voice was quite a bit more surprised than he'd expected. "Is that so?" Tari said. Then, with a great deal more sympathy than Pel thought he deserved: "Good gods, man. What's happened?"

  He swallowed. "Tari, I need you to answer something for me. I want to believe in you. I know you have no reason to think I do, but it's true. I need to know: did you tell the Inquisition anything?"

  "What? No." This time the surprise turned into alarm, then a bitterly amused resignation. "What happened, Pel? And if Kip's here looking like this, where's Bru?"

  He swallowed. Tears rose up, prickling his eyelids. Shit. The last thing he wanted to do was cry in front of Tari, but he didn't know if he could hold it back. He supposed it was only fair. If Tari hadn't sold Bruant out, if they really hadn't been involved in this, then Pel had nothing to do but beg for their forgiveness and help.

  "The Inquisition took him," he managed to say around the lump in his throat, hearing his voice come out muffled and choked. "They caught him practicing magic. Kip took off so they wouldn't have any proof, and came to me even though—I mean, he knows how I feel about demons. But what choice do either of us have right now?"

  "Not very much," Tari said, after a brief pause. They came closer, maneuvering around Kip, who swiveled to watch them both. Brown-trousered legs stopped in front of Pel, bare feet below, and Tari slowly came into view as they crouched, gazing at Pel with those blue eyes still terribly bright, expression intrigued. "So now you've come running to me."

  There was no vindictiveness in their tone, just a strange sort of curiosity.

  "I don't know what to do, Tari!" Kip interrupted. "Bru's gone, he cut me off, they'll be hurting him, they might kill him, he might already be dead and I wouldn't even know, I'm so scared! I'm scared, Tari…" He crawled forward, grabbed their shoulder, and rocked Tari back and forth to get attention.

  Tari didn't look at him, gaze focused on Pel. Kip sagged, staring at them with eyes that seemed impossibly large as tears welled up again.

  Pel said, in a whisper, "I'm sorry. I said terrible things to you. I was afraid of what you might do. But the worst happened without you having to do a thing. You were innocent—of the things I claimed." He couldn't say they were fully innocent and mean it. But I don't think Tari'd believe it if I did. "I don't have anywhere else to turn. Nobody in this city will take on the Inquisition."

  "And you think I will?" Tari asked mildly. "In my position?"

  "I don't know." Of course not. What demon would put themselves directly in the path of the Inquisition? "But I'm sorry. If you can help me, please. I'll do anything." An idea welled in him, horrific and depressing, repulsive, appalling.

  This is for Bruant.

  He choked out, "I'll give you my soul, if that's what you want. If that's enough to make it worthwhile for you. Just—please."

  For a moment, Tari didn't react at all, didn't change in any way; they ignored Pel before them on his knees, his shoulders shaking. Ignored Kip beside them, crouched and crying.

  And then they let out an exaggerated sigh, sinking back further until they were seated cross-legged between Pel and Kip.

  "Twenty-year-olds are the worst," Tari groaned. "I mean, they're great, love them, but they all think they're immortal. I was dating someone around that age back in Potfeld not too long ago, and ended up breaking up with him out of the goodness of my heart. Taking life-threatening risks practically seemed to have become his fetish." They laughed briefly, warm and fond in their reminiscing. "I thought maybe my personality was rubbing off on him."

  Frankly, Pel couldn't imagine Tari dating anyone, and more importantly, had no idea how this was relevant—until after a moment, realization dawned. "Are you," he said carefully, "considering some kind of life-threatening risk?"

  "Not for your sake," Tari said dismissively, giving him a once-over with a cool look. "Bruant and Kip, though… I'd like to see them do well for themselves. And besides, rescuing a newly-awakened magician from the Inquisition in a demon-hating city? Sounds terrifying and entertaining. I'm into that."

  Pel swallowed the lump in his throat, the aching regret in his chest. He deserved to be dismissed out of hand, he knew that. Tari would think so, at least. He'd doubted them. He'd disrupted their plans.

  "Thank you," he said, quiet and overwhelmed, even as fear chilled the blood in his veins, leaving him sweaty and cold at the same time, his palms itching in his anxiety. "Then—how do you… collect?"

  Tari stared at him blankly for a moment before realizing what he meant. "Oh, your soul?" They bit their lower lip, an expression halfway between a frown and something strangely coy. "No… I don't think I'll be taking that, not right now. Though I hope you don't think I'm going to forget that you promised it to me. But you need to be alive if you want to rescue your son, don't you?"

  Relief flooded him, its waves lapping at the fear he hadn't lost. He just had to focus on Bruant, he tried to tell himself. I've made this choice. It's done now. "Then—"

  "But…" Tari interrupted, raising one finger, and some practiced confidence, some deliberate construction, vanished. That vulnerable, softer look seemed to come about them again as they exhaled, head falling forward a bit, gaze dropping. The expression was simultaneously diffident and enticing. "I'm starving."

  "What?" Pel asked, startled.

  "I haven't fed in days," Tari said. "I'm not dying—I'm not that badly off—but I've gone into, hmm. It's a state where I conserve energy. I can go a long time on this if I'm just watching out for myself. But I'm not going to be able to do too much for others on short notice." They looked up again, eyes meeting Pel's, the expression in them starting to warm up again. It was, weirdly, a relief to see. "In a city like this, it takes at least some care to seduce people. I can't just walk up to a stranger and say, 'I'm a cubant, want to play'. But I assume you want to act as soon as possible."

  Heart sinking, disgust rising in him—at himself, not Tari, for what he'd done, what he was thinking of doing—he said, "Yes. The longer we take, the worse off Bruant will be."

  "Then I need a human volunteer to give me at least a little," Tari said, and spread their hands. "Where do you suggest I get something like that?"

  Pel swallowed. Arousal was already racing through him at the thought, and horror along with it. He wanted Tari—hadn't stopped wanting Tari—but knew, now, what Tari was. He tried to imagine giving up parts of himself so some demon could eat him piecemeal, tried to imagine himself enjoying it.

  No. No way. I can't. I won't. I—

  "Kip," he said, much more calmly than he felt. "Go outside."

  Kip opened his mouth to protest, then shut it with an audible snap, eyes widening more. He gave them both a long, distressed look, then turned, stalking to the window and transforming as he leapt out. He landed on the ledge outside with a soft thump, ears flattened against his head.

  Pel shut the window behind him, drawing the blinds and ignoring Kip's baleful look at him before they closed. "We'll have to keep it quick," he said stiffly, turning back. "Bruant's in danger—"

  And then his words cut off because the Tari he was looking at now was different than the Tari he'd been speaking to just moments earlier.

  A spade-tipped tail wound around behind them, resting on the floor where they were still sitting, hands splayed in their lap. Their horns went up in a V, twisting midway, holding their long dark curls back from their face. Their limbs had lengthened in some hard-to-define way, made more noticeable by how their legs were angled b
ackward with high, deer-like angles leading down to cloven hooves. And those blue eyes had horizontally slit pupils, goatlike.

  This was a demon. A cubant.

  They grinned, showing too many teeth, and rose from the floor in one fluid, unnervingly graceful motion. Approaching the bed, they held a hand out to Pel, beckoning.

  "Come here, Pel," Tari said. It was still their normal voice with no change, startling in its familiarity.

  Fear almost overwhelmed Pel's inadvertent arousal—fear, and a gut-deep sense of rejection. Doing this ran counter to everything he believed in, everything he thought was right, everything he'd done in the name of that goal.

  It was just Tari, he reminded himself. And then: But this is Tari.

  Abruptly, Tari laughed, rueful, and rubbed their face with their hands. "I'm scaring you," they said. "Seriously. Oh, Pel. Am I the first demon you've really seen since that aluga?"

  His heart gave an unpleasant flop. "There was Kip," he said, tightening his jaw in an attempt to seem dismissive.

  "Kip's just an imp," Tari said gently. "Just a little impulse. Hardly the archetypal demon, hm?"

  "And cubants are the… archetype?"

  "Cubants are," Tari agreed immediately. "Absolutely. We interact with humans more than any other kind, because we prefer you alive and well."

  Alive and well was one way to put how he was feeling. He wanted them, both physically and just… who they were. It didn't matter to his body that they were a demon, and it bothered the rest of him less than he wished it did, but it should. He knew that. It should bother him more than anything else in the world.

  "I feel like I'm betraying Phalene," he blurted out.

  Tari's eyes widened. He realized with a shock that they hadn't realized what they were asking of him, how much the past still stuck with him. And why should they? He hadn't said much about it at all. "Oh, Pel," Tari said again, soft.

  He tried to explain, to find words. "And—and Bruant. He's hurting right now, he's—"

  To his surprise, Tari moved back a little, giving him space. "Pel…" They paused, as if searching for words, a faint line appearing between their creased brows. "You're scared and hurting, so let me—just let me talk for a moment, we don't need to jump into anything here. Look, I don't want your soul. I certainly wasn't expecting you to offer it, so I might as well rescind your offer for you."

  He blinked, eyes widening. "What—?"

  Tari shrugged. "Honestly, the human soul is a powerful thing, but I'd rather see what a person does with theirs intact. So there's that. And about sex—"

  Pel had started to relax. He stiffened again, looking them over: a demon he should reject, but everything he wanted right now. "Yes?"

  "If it's a betrayal to sleep with me, then we can do less than that," Tari said simply. They held out a hand again, coaxing him closer. "I am what I am, and I'm not going to apologize for it. Everything needs to eat. But I can see this is important to you, and I don't want to force you to do anything you don't want. Kissing alone won't do as much good for me, but it's better than nothing. I don't need much sexual energy to have some to spare on other things."

  They're being too nice. The mix of emotions almost overwhelmed him. Fear and panic, still there. Revulsion, relief, guilt, longing, grief. He blinked rapidly, trying to blink the tears away before they formed. "If we start I don't know if I can stop," he said. "Even if I want to. I haven't… for a long time and you're very—"

  "I'm very much a cubant," Tari agreed wryly. "I know the effect I have."

  Pel said, choked, "I don't see any other options."

  "I know." They stayed where they were, reaching out to him, not otherwise moving. "I don't like it to be that way. If you can't do this, I can try to hunt and hope that works. I can't get my energy from Kip or I would, Pel."

  His lips twisted. "That's… unreliable."

  "It is," Tari agreed. "If you're willing to work with me, I'll stop it if we go too fast. Trust me a little?"

  "I can't—"

  "Can you try?" Tari asked.

  Fuck. Pel let out a shudder. "I can try," he said, and finally took those last few steps closer, taking their hand, letting them pull him down onto the bed.

  Tari relaxed back easily. Pel didn't know how they could—won't their tail make lying down uncomfortable? he thought inanely—but perhaps he was just reading his own discomfort into Tari. He hesitated over them, one arm braced next to their body, stiff, all muscles tight as he held himself up.

  Slowly, Tari raised their arms, sliding hands up Pel's sides until they reached his ribs, then moving up from there, slow and firm, to touch his back instead. Something about the gesture, gentle and almost cautious, sent a shudder through Pel.

  He hadn't ever considered bedding a demon in much detail, but even so, he had never thought it could be quite so—nice. Exhaling sharply, he folded down against Tari, bracketed by their arms, their long legs, bent at the knee.

  Tari let out an approving murmur in response, smiling at him, hands sliding to cup the back of Pel's neck. "You feel nice," they said, a dreamy murmur. Their eyes were half-closed and their pupils had expanded enough to make them almost seem black. "Kiss me?"

  The simple request—the fact that it was a request—sent a helpless rush of arousal through Pel. He swallowed abruptly, convulsive, around a throat that no longer wanted to work the way it should. "Tari—"

  Tari's fingers rubbed against the short, spiky hairs against at the base of Pel's skull. The pointed tip of their tongue touched their lower lip, and the sight of it, wet and pink and not at all the right shape, sent another shock through him.

  I want to taste that. I want to feel it. He let himself think that, exploring the thought for a few dizzying, uncomfortable moments as he stared at Tari's tongue, their lips—and then lowered his head, urgently pressing his mouth to theirs.

  Under him, Tari groaned softly, lips moving against his, mouth opening, and then they were kissing. Pel let himself feel it, feel a hot body against his, Tari's body against his, shifting and wanting. He let himself want this, want to feel, touch, have, and, with a shudder, he let himself move in return, rolling against them.

  It was impossible to keep track of the time passing even with his helpless awareness of how little time the two of them had. The careful, exploratory passes of their lips turned quickly into something more biting, desperate. He ate at Tari's mouth like he was the one planning to devour them instead of the other way around, nipped at their lower lip and dragged his teeth before crushing their mouths together with renewed passion.

  Tari was sucking breaths in every time their kiss broke even briefly. He could feel the hard pressure of Tari's arousal against his hip, a strangely nostalgic sensation. It wouldn't be the first time; he'd slept with a few men when he was younger, and had dated a woman in the guard who was taking medicine to better match her looks to her heart back when they'd been in training together. The sensation was strange only from how long it had been since he'd felt anything of another person's pleasure, let alone a particular one he'd put behind him when he had fallen for Phalene.

  Not to mention that it was with a demon. Knowing he was deliberately bringing pleasure to someone who fed from it was heady and terrifying.

  He shifted slightly to make it easier for Tari to grind, shuddering as he pressed a thigh against their legs. Clearly pleased by his reaction, Tari squirmed under him as they shifted to touch more, hands hungry and roaming, hips rocking for more pressure, more friction, more—

  I want to feel good, Pel thought dazedly. I want to feel—

  He broke the kiss to start mouthing down Tari's throat, mapping out the long, elegant curve with lips and teeth. Even though there was no reason for it beyond some mimicry of human desire, he could feel a flutter of pulse against his lips.

  "Hey—" Tari said, a soft moan as they tilted their head back.

  They didn't sound like they wanted Pel to stop, so he didn't, straddling one of Tari's thighs so he could free up a
hand and run it over one of Tari's small pointed breasts, down to a hip, back up again. He sucked and bit at Tari's throat again, earning a gasp as Tari arched, tugging at his hair.

  "Hey," they said again, more pointedly. "Nnh, Pel…"

  Pel didn't listen. Didn't want to listen, didn't want to let what he was doing catch up with him. Didn't want to have to start thinking about it again. He found the hem of Tari's shirt, slid his fingers up underneath. He couldn't get farther than the bottom of Tari's rib cage with their vest still buttoned, but regardless, he was touching skin: soft, warm skin, smooth and inviting—

  Tari pulled at Pel's hair roughly enough to yank his head back. "Hey."

  Pel sucked air, flushed and anxious with desire and wondering why, when Tari was so clearly enjoying this, he'd been stopped. "What?"

  "You didn't want to go too far," Tari reminded him, breathless and a little pouty. "You said this'd be a betrayal."

  Shit. "I don't want to stop now," he muttered, looking somewhere around their throat instead of at their face.

  Tari groaned, the sound both disappointed and erotic as they dropped their head back to the pillow. "Will you have wished you stopped," they said, strained, "later? I told you to trust me."

  That made Pel pause, the question helping him clear his head a little. Fuck. Later. Fuck. He swallowed with his throat gone dry, and slowly sat back, almost peeling himself away from the heat of Tari's body. Their lips were swollen and reddened, cheeks flushed, eyes hazy, and they looked annoyed—at themself, he thought, not at him.

  "Why would you stop me when you want me to give it to you?" he asked, dazed.

  "Because I'm a fucking good person," Tari snapped, and unwound their arms from Pel, blowing hair out of their face with an annoyed huff. "And I respect your feelings for your dead wife."