She’s a spryte. She’s not human.
Malcolm had no idea what to do. She was unconscious, but clearly still alive. And the fact that he still held her in his arms meant that she was now his problem.
He briefly considered trying to get in touch with Tapestry, or one of the other champions at the dome. None of them had given him their contact information, however, and it wasn’t as though he had any means of getting back out to headquarters on his own.
Leaving her where he’d found her also wasn’t an option. The men could come back and finish what they’d originally planned. Or, more probably, the spryte could regain consciousness and attack a person, or break into a house.
Malcolm did the only thing that made any sense. Using the wind to buoy his load, he started walking back to his apartment.
It took him longer than it had on the way out, and his arms were tired by the end of it. There weren’t many pedestrians out on the street, which was a small miracle. He set her down to unlock his door once he was in the hallway, and then carefully carried her inside.
Malcolm set her down on the couch and considered everything he knew about sprytes and demons. He’d read every article he could find relating to them shortly after the start of the Phenomenon and his family’s deaths. He’d read stories about fire demons torching entire towns to the ground, and water sprytes sinking ships.
I don’t even know what this spryte’s powers are…
The spryte on his couch made a small noise and blinked her eyes open. Malcolm stiffened, readying himself to fight, if it came to it. The spryte looked up at him, her eyes dark, but strangely expressive.
“Uh… hi,” he said.
The spryte slowly stood up from the couch. She reached down to the hem of her sweatshirt and pulled it up and over her head. She was wearing a black t-shirt and yoga pants underneath, clothes tight enough to show off an incredible body.
Malcolm tried his best not to notice, given how little bearing it had on the situation, but it was hard. Her body bordered on being voluptuous, with large, full breasts, a trim waist, and an eye-catching butt.
She was on the tall side, only an inch or two shorter than he was, and her hair was black and glossy. She wore it loose across her shoulders, and it made her seem like she’d just woken up from a deep sleep.
She stared at him with those dark eyes, holding his gaze and making the room come alive with tension. Her lips were pouty and luscious, and the color of the ocean at night. She pulled them up into a slight, suggestive smile, and then turned away from him.
“Hey, hold on a second,” said Malcolm. “I have some questions for you.”
The spryte walked around the couch and further into his apartment. Malcolm scowled and followed after her.
“What were you doing before those men captured you?” he asked. “And why are you in Vanderbrook? Are you planning on attacking the city?”
The spryte walked into his room. It was dark, illuminated only by a small strip of ambient light sneaking in through the curtains of his window. It was enough for him to see her pulling her t-shirt off, and letting it fall to the ground. She turned so that she was standing sideways, and Malcolm could see the illicit bump of the tip of her nipple in her silhouette.
“What… are you doing?” He shook his head, following after her. The spryte was taking off her pants now, bending over to slide them down with the same motions as any human woman.
Malcolm reached for the light switch. He flicked it up, and for the briefest instant, saw her naked from behind. She was gorgeous, a combination of breath taking curves, breasts, and butt. The light was on, and she glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyes set into a scowl.
The shadows moved. Malcolm watched in disbelief as tendrils of darkness slipped out from under his bed, behind his door, and outside the window. They took him by his ankles and wrists, pulling his limbs out and holding him like ropes. He stared at the naked spryte in disbelief, struggling against his bonds as fear took hold.
CHAPTER 10
Malcolm mastered his emotions as he stared at the spryte. He wasn’t helpless. He could fight back, even without being able to move.
Clenching his fist, he summoned the wind and slammed the nearest object he could quickly sweep into motion into the spryte’s head. He only realized that the object in question was a harmless pillow after it had already hit her. The force of the gust behind it counted for something, but all it managed to do was distract her for a split second.
The distraction loosened Malcolm’s shadow bonds, and he managed to slip out of them. The spryte was already focusing her attention back on him and summoning more tendrils of darkness. He leapt forward, tackling her. The two of them fell onto his bed in a tangled heap.
She’s still very, very naked…
It was hard for Malcolm to make good use of his powers with their bodies in such close contact. He was on top of her, one of his legs pressed between her thighs. He tried to direct a gust of wind at her face. Her hair blew back, and her breasts jiggled for a brief, magical moment, and nothing else was really accomplished.
Malcolm struggled against her, pinning her arms and pressing his chest down on top of her. He felt the shadow tendrils reaching for him again, but they weren’t trying to restrain, this time. They were scratching at him, or rather, at his clothes.
What the hell…?
He hesitated for an instant, and the spryte’s lips were suddenly against his. They felt hot, and Malcolm kissed her back without even thinking. The shadows were pulling at his shirt, cutting through it in places, and doing the same with his sweatpants. In less than ten seconds, he was just as naked as she was, his clothes lying on the ground in a useless, shredded pile.
He pulled back from the kiss. He still had her hands pinned behind her head, and was about to try another attack with a gust of wind when the spryte began to move. She didn’t struggle against his hold on her. She moved her hips, grinding her naked crotch against his equally naked crotch.
“What… are you doing?” he muttered.
She kissed him again, pushing her tongue into his mouth. Malcolm felt himself getting hard. He hesitated for a moment, and then let go of her hands, tensing up in case she decided to attack him again.
She didn’t attack him. She reached down and took hold of his shaft, slowly stroking it with her soft, gentle fingers. She was smiling at him, and her dark eyes had a hungry, eager look in them.
This is such a bad idea…
Malcolm started to pull back from her, aware of how vulnerable he was, naked and distracted by the spryte’s sexuality. In a flash, the shadow tendrils were back, holding him by the wrists. He stared at her with wide eyes as they pulled him up into the air, holding him upright over his bed.
The spryte was still smiling. She rose to her knees and planted a kiss on his stomach, and then several more along his waist. Malcolm stared down at her in disbelief as her hands moved back to his shaft. He felt incredible, the sensation amplified by the clear danger of the situation.
The spryte looked up at him and met his gaze, holding his erection an inch or so away from her lips. An understanding passed between them without anything needing to be said. She leaned forward, extended her tongue, and gave the tip of Malcolm’s tool a slow, gentle lick.
The shadow tendrils dissipated, and Malcolm was on top of her again in an instant. He couldn’t take it anymore. Regardless of whether it was a trick or not, he had to have her.
He pinned her arms again, this time less out of suspicion and more out of a masculine need to dominate. He pushed the tip of his erection in between her legs, finding her entrance. She was tight and hot, and let out a slow breath as he pushed the first inch or so of his length inside.
Malcolm started thrusting into her as though in a race against time. The spryte’s legs wrapped around him, holding him close with surprising strength. He kissed her, and then shook her legs loose, not wanting to give her any physical avenue to take control back.
She was s
ilent as he pressed into her, but her breathing and facial expression exposed her inner pleasure. Malcolm groped at her breasts, perfect, firm, and dotted with weirdly sexy purple nipples. He let one of his hands run across the smooth skin of her butt and hook behind her leg, pulling her hips up to meet each of his hard, downward movements.
Malcolm pumped into her with all the strength he had, intoxicated by lust, entranced by her body. They were both sweaty, and the bed groaned and creaked underneath them. The spryte was shivering, and she tensed up suddenly, letting out a tiny, audible gasp, the first vocalization he’d heard from her.
Malcolm kept going, kissing her and losing himself to his horniness. He pushed in as deep as he could go, feeling the squeeze of her tight, hot hole. He ground his crotch into hers, and then thrust hard, finding his release.
He didn’t stop to think about whether it would be a good idea to pull out as the pleasure hit him. Malcolm unloaded his seed into the spryte, hot and sticky and careless. He groaned, exhausted by his orgasm, and only then began to think about what the hell he was going to do next.
The spryte seemed to be having similar thoughts. She gently pushed him off her and slid toward the edge of the bed. Tendrils of darkness were moving again. Malcolm reached for the wind, ready to counterattack.
Instead, the spryte pulled her clothes back over to her, slipping on her shirt and stepping into her yoga pants. She pulled her hair loose from the shirt’s collar, crossed her arms over her chest, and then turned around to face him.
“Thank you,” she said. “Phew. That certainly did the trick.”
Her voice was soft and seductive, and shockingly, very humanlike. Malcolm had always assumed that sprytes and demons would sound demonic in some way. She just sounded like any other girl.
“Uh…” He frowned, trying to think of what to say. “You’re… welcome?”
You’re welcome. Smooth, Malcolm. Real smooth.
The spryte stood where she was, watching him carefully. Malcolm was still naked, and he pulled a pair of sweatpants out of his dresser, feeling an awkward tension settle over the room.
“So…?” asked the spryte.
Malcolm shook his head.
“So… what?” he asked.
“So, are you going to try to kill me?” asked the spryte. “You’re a champion, aren’t you?”
CHAPTER 11
Malcolm stood up, too stunned to know how to respond. He shook his head no, and then frowned, feeling like an idiot for the way the situation had played out.
“You’re a spryte…” he said. “But you’re not attacking me. Or, I mean, you were… but you stopped. I don’t understand…”
The spryte shrugged.
“I’m not sure how much I can enlighten you,” she said. “My memory is hazy. Each time I lose myself and come back, it takes a while for the amnesia to wear off.”
“Amnesia…?” Malcolm frowned at her. “So sprytes and demons… don’t have memories?”
“I remember a few things,” said the spryte. “Not much.”
“Your name?”
The spryte frowned.
“It was Rose, I think,” she said. “Black Rose. Though I’m not sure if that was my actual name, or just my champion name, or what.”
Malcolm nodded, and then froze, realizing the implications of what she’d just said.
“Your… champion name?” he asked. “You were a champion? Before you became a spryte?”
“Of course,” said Rose. “All sprytes and demons were once champions, or at least gifted. It’s using your powers, overusing them to be precise, that turns you into one.”
The surprise must have shown through on his face. Rose smiled and licked her lips, clearly amused.
“Wow, they really didn’t explain much to you, did they?” she said.
“Hold on,” said Malcolm, lifting a hand. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why wouldn’t the other champions have told me that? They said that sprytes and demons were corrupted from the beginning, from immediately when they got their gift.”
“Yeah, the optics of it is a lot better for the Champion Authority,” said Rose. “That’s not to say that there weren’t sprytes and demons from Day One, after the Phenomenon. A certain percentage of people, particularly ones with uncontrollable powers, turned into ‘monsters’ really quickly.”
“But I’m part of the Champion Authority…” Malcolm frowned, feeling a bit odd, saying it out loud. “It seems strange that they wouldn’t tell me this.”
“You’re asking the wrong person,” said Rose. “But honestly, stop and think of how much fear it would breed among normal people if they knew that the champions fighting against evil in the world were only a few steps away from turning into monsters.”
Malcolm didn’t say anything. He sat down on the bed and let out a slow breath.
Easy. You can’t necessarily trust everything she’s telling you.
“Okay, so if you were a champion before,” said Malcolm. “Then how did you end up becoming a spryte?”
Rose brought a hand up to her head. She looked as though she was carefully considering his question, trying to find an answer.
“From using my powers too much,” she said. “Beyond that… I don’t know, exactly. There’s so much I can’t remember, even when I’m at my best. Most of the details that have stuck with me are the ones critical to my survival. Speaking of which…”
She pointed at him. Malcolm furrowed his brow, confused. She tapped a hand against her wrist.
“That bracelet thing,” she said. “What’s it called, again?”
“The stabilizer?”
“Yeah,” said Rose, nodding. “It has a bomb in it.”
Malcolm felt a chill run down his back. He reached his other hand over to touch the stabilizer and then stopped, as though now even touching it might be enough to get him killed.
“That’s… insane,” he said.
“It also has a homing beacon, along with technology to keep your mood stable when you use your powers,” said Rose. “That’s more commonly known among champions, however. You haven’t been a member of the authority for long, have you?”
“I just got my powers today,” said Malcolm.
Rose burst out laughing. She saw the expression on his face after a second or two and stopped, stepping in closer to him and looking a little guilty.
“Sorry,” she said. “But seriously, wow. Some first day, huh?”
“Yeah,” he said.
The stabilizer is a means of keeping control… If champions really can turn into monsters, it makes sense.
Malcolm felt overwhelmed by the information. He looked up at Rose. Her eyes were sympathetic, but Malcolm felt a sudden stab of suspicion toward her.
“No, hold on,” he said. “You don’t have any proof to back up any of this. What’s to stop you from lying to me outright? It’s life or death, like you said. I’m a champion.”
“Right…” Rose waved a hand through the air lazily, and the shadow tendrils were suddenly holding Malcolm again, with the addition of a thick bond around his neck. It felt a bit like what he imagined being strangled by a boa constrictor would feel, except colder. “Quite the champion you are, mister…?”
“Malcolm,” he said. “Or, uh… Wind Runner is my champion name.”
“I like Malcolm better,” said Rose. She let her hand drop, and the tendrils disappeared.
He wasn’t sure what to say to her, or how to respond. She’d made her point clear enough. If she was lying to him, it wasn’t in an attempt to save her own life. And the fact that she hadn’t killed him, when she clearly could if she wanted to, also counted for something.
“Rose,” he said. “What do you want? I saved you from those men, but… it’s not like I’ve trapped you here, or anything. I thought sprytes and demons were supposed to be violent and out of control?”
“Some of them are,” said Rose. “That’s just how it is with any person, though. I’m not really like that. Killing, causing destr
uction… it’s not what I want.”
“What do you want?”
Rose sighed. She was smiling, but her eyes were sad.
“To not feel so fucking empty all the time, I guess,” she said. “To not have to run for my life anymore. Even as a spryte, I still sometimes I dream about settling down, getting married, living a normal life. But I think that ship has sailed.”
Malcolm stared at her, completely bewildered by her response. He forced himself to keep a level head as he considered the situation, which still hadn’t changed.
She’s a spryte, and it is possible that she might still be lying. I can’t trust her.
He knew that it was true, but his suspicion didn’t stop him from feeling slightly awed by her presence. She was gorgeous and smart, and he’d just had amazing sex with her. And yet, she was a spryte.
They were generally considered to be a step up from demons, less violent, usually with more benign powers, though still unpredictable and wild. Sprytes generally had skin of an uncommon color, ranging the full color spectrum, but none of the physical differences to the face and head common to demons.
Malcolm wondered if perhaps the differences were more pronounced than he’d originally assumed. The Champion Authority had never made much of a distinction between the two forms of monsters, and up until that moment, neither had he.
“Do you know other sprytes?” asked Malcolm, suddenly curious. “Or other… demons?”
Rose considered for a moment, and then gave a slow nod.
“I’m familiar with a few, yes,” she said. “At least, I think? It’s a little fuzzy, but I get the sense that there are more in the area than just me.”
Malcolm felt a small surge of hope, tinted by the anger he’d been holding onto for so long.
“Can you try to remember?” he asked. “Do you know anything about one with fire based powers? Or possibly explosion abilities? Something that could completely level a house, and just leave a… smoking crater.”
Wind Runner (Vanderbrook Champions Book 1) Page 5