Steel and Promise

by Alexa Black

  And Teran, not Cailyn, was a helldemon with newsteel tipping her fingers and a taste for blood and screams.

  Cailyn tried to slip her fingers out of Teran’s grip, but they wouldn’t move. Her feet wouldn’t either. The only way to make them move was to follow and follow, until the familiar door to a familiar bedroom stood before them.

  Cailyn looked at the large window, the garden and fountain beyond it. She walked over to it and put her hands to the glass.

  “I’d like to go out there, my lady,” she said.

  “Very well.” The glass glowed as Teran’s fingers touched it. The window slid open. She watched Teran walk outside, unhurried as always, and followed.

  Scents flooded Cailyn’s nostrils: the flowers, the leaves, the grass. She slipped off her shoes, let the grass touch the bare skin of her feet. She bent down to touch a flower, straightened up again, and waited.

  Teran peeled off the gray uniform. The water shone behind her as gleaming fingers slit Cailyn’s clothes.

  They faced one another, naked and silent, their eyes meeting. The waterfall bubbled behind them.

  Newsteel flashed out, scored deep lines just above her breasts. Cailyn sobbed in relief. Her flesh throbbed with desire she hadn’t known she felt.

  The steel sang in her skin, again and again. Blood flowed down her breasts, her belly, her thighs.

  It was no worse than anything Teran had done before. But at the end of it, a bright light that would take her away from this, from violation, from torment, from lifeless bodies with gaping holes in their skulls.

  The claw twitched, a ragged tear inside her skin. She raised her head to look.

  Teran held out her hand like a penitent making an offering to her patron god. Blood ran over her palms and down her fingers.

  “My lady—Teran—what ?”

  She looked up into Teran’s face. Her eyes overflowed with tears and her mouth twisted into a grimace.

  Cailyn’s cuts stung anew as she looked at Teran. Sympathy sang in her flayed nerves.

  “I can’t see,” Teran whispered. Her shoulders heaved. “These tears—I can’t stop them. I can’t stop them and I can’t see. I can’t do it if I can’t see.”

  Cailyn reached out. The flooded eyes looked up at her touch.

  Teran turned away.

  “Go if you have to,” she said. “Call them and tell them you mean to die, if that’s really what you want.”

  “I don’t want death,” Cailyn said. “I want freedom. I can’t have it without leaving.”

  Teran shook again. “Then go.”

  “I’m sorry,” Cailyn said. Fear twisted her stomach.

  “I know.”

  Cailyn walked to the door, her feet heavy, like she was moving through thick oil. Was her body rebelling, some survival instinct resisting the motions her mind told it to make?

  The world beyond the garden was too real. Too cold. She didn’t want to bleed in it.

  She thought again of Teran’s face, the pale mask contorted with sobs. She’d seen her grief before, the first time her lips touched Teran’s flesh.

  She didn’t know if Teran had cried when she came. She hadn’t looked.

  And now…

  Teran had wanted Cailyn to die hers if Cailyn died at all. Cailyn had agreed to her wish.

  Teran’s body had rebelled against what she wanted to do. And she had let Cailyn go.

  After all she had done to force Cailyn to stay, she’d let her go.

  Did she even know what she’d just done?

  Probably not. Mariel had wanted to serve from the beginning.

  Teran had found Cailyn and submerged her in desire and pain. The need had stayed with Cailyn even when she surfaced. She’d scrambled for it. From Darien. From Elana Teth. From the pack of nobles at the party.

  Did Teran need her too?

  The deal with Lord Keriel said yes. The tears said more than need could move her.

  Cailyn turned and walked back through the open window. Her steps grew lighter as she did. Slipping to her knees was even easier, as easy as the first time.

  “You understand,” Cailyn said. “You let me go.”

  “Leave now. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

  “You let me choose.”

  “I—”

  “That means I belong here.”

  Cailyn bowed her head, offering her neck.

  “With you.”

  Newsteel twisted, harsh and welcome, into her hair. Lips met hers. They tasted like tears.

  She opened her mouth.

  Chapter Forty-three

  Cailyn had expected sex. They’d denied their desire long enough. And now—she’d thought Teran would tear at her. Rip through her with savagery born of relief. Especially here in the garden, the fountain singing behind them and the grass tickling her knees.

  It didn’t happen.

  That must mean Teran wanted to put the collar on her first. To lock it around her naked throat, never to be removed again.

  Teran owned her, after all. Now everyone could finally admit they knew it.

  Instead she ordered Cailyn to kneel facing away from her, pulled her long curls aside to expose her back.

  The claws dug into it, too deep for pleasure.

  Wet blood ran over her back as the newsteel opened her skin. The sting shivered her senses a moment later, delayed like thunder after lightning.

  She did not scream. She balled her hands into fists at her sides. Her eyes filled with tears, and she stared ahead through their mist.

  She let the tears fall. Teran had cried over her, after all.

  She had done this once before. The claws had dug deep, curling and twisting into elaborate shapes as they carved their mark into the skin of her back. Slow and deliberate, they’d scored the Nivrai symbol into Cailyn’s shoulder.

  Had she known what Teran meant, that first time her claws etched the sigil into her back? Teran had teased her with it, a mark that would heal over, a hint of what she wanted. The experiment’s purpose and eventual result, cut into her skin long before she’d understood it.

  The mark had faded like any other. She’d remembered the precision and the passion that drove it, but nothing more.

  Now the newsteel cut deep enough to scar.

  For the rest of Cailyn’s life, she would wear the symbol of Nivrai, etched into her skin by the hands that had held her, soothed her, torn her open, sent her reeling.

  The newsteel traced flame down the nerves in her back. She cried out at last, unable to keep silent.

  Memories flooded her mind, their sting washed away as she bled. Lord Keriel dead on the floor of his room, blood pooled around his head. His hands toying with the tablet without revealing what it held. Teran tearing at herself, ripping the black bodysuit to shreds, slicing her own skin.

  Cailyn’s dress, torn and mended.

  The memories rose before her eyes, then burst like bubbles. The blood carried away their sting. Desire rose where despair had passed. The flesh of her back opened to Teran’s touch, as eagerly as her sex would the next time Teran used her.

  Teran’s breath came quick and shallow. Cailyn heard her murmur, a low purr of contentment and desire. That too would remain with Cailyn always. Everything that passed between them, the scar would seal inside her skin. Whenever she wrapped her hand around her shoulder, she would feel it and remember.

  Opening to Teran had become second nature. She cried out. Fire raced from the seared nerves of her back down into her sex and up into her screaming throat.

  She did not know it was over until the burning stopped and every part of her throbbed.

  Her head drooped. The steel-tipped hand withdrew. Teran stood over her, casting a shadow over the grass and flowers.

  A hand, its claws hidden away, reached for Cailyn’s cheek. She opened her mouth and kissed Teran’s fingers. She tasted her blood, opened her mouth to lick and suck it away. Teran’s fingers sank into her mouth.

  Heat rose in Cailyn’s should
er and inside her sex. White fire licked at her back. Teran’s fingers sealed it in her open mouth. It flooded her, returning and returning.

  Teran had transformed her. She could do nothing but take pleasure in it. She thought of the steel tucked inside Teran’s fingertips and shivered in fear and exultation.

  *

  One videocall remained.

  The image flared to life, nobles sitting around a circular table. Circlets ringed the nobles’ heads.

  That only made sense. Teran had made her deal with the Councils, after all.

  Some, Cailyn recognized as former clients. She remembered their hands on her. Knowing what she’d done, would they shudder when they remembered her touch?

  Would there be rumors about Cailyn now? In the beginning, Cailyn had half-expected a helldemon to swoop down and carry her away. In the face of so many whispers, the claws that pierced her had both amazed and disappointed her.

  What would they say about Cailyn? Would they whisper about a courtesan driven to murder by the passions of a demon?

  Even the servitude she’d chosen would become a story. She would be an object lesson. A beautiful woman who had paid for her twisted passion with her freedom, forever condemned to remain in the demon’s thrall.

  Now she understood why Teran laughed.

  “Cailyn Derys,” one of the High Council members said. “We have considered Nivrai’s proposal and decided to spare you. Provided you agree never to leave Nivrai.”

  Cailyn nodded. “I understand, my lords.”

  “If you ever do leave, both your life and Teran Nivrai’s will be forfeit.”

  “I understand.”

  “No second chance will be given. To either of you.”

  “I understand.”

  The woman’s diadem shone. “Then you agree to these terms? If you do not, and you’re found guilty of murder and treason, you will be executed.”

  “I agree to the terms,” Cailyn answered. “I will—” She stopped and swallowed, unable to hide the catch in her voice.

  Memories flooded her mind. That stolen moment between her father and Lord Lerak so long ago. The fierce joy in the nobleman’s eyes as they kissed. Laughing with the other courtesans-to-be about the things they studied. The first time a door irised open and a noble walked in. The first time a noble’s gaze swept over her, naked and kneeling as she waited to be used.

  It would all end here. Her flesh itched, the fresh scar already re-knitting. She looked over at Teran.

  It was enough. It would have to be.

  She spoke again, the tremor in her voice gone. “I will remain in Nivrai and never leave.”

  “You’re a lucky woman, Derys, to get out of this with your life.”

  “Thank you, my lady.”

  The noblewoman blinked. Cailyn didn’t blame her. Just hours ago, Cailyn had thought she’d rather die than agree to this. “Then here.”

  A panel blinked near Cailyn, the agreement written on it. Cailyn swallowed and signed. It vanished when she finished. Her freedom vanished with it.

  She watched the faces in the videoscreen. What did they think of her, courtesan turned murderess turned slave?

  The video blinked out. Teran walked up behind her. Clawed fingers curled around her unmarked shoulder.

  “It’s done, then,” she said.

  Cailyn nodded.

  Teran’s hand slid to her neck. Steel pricked her where the collar had been.

  “I will make this place a paradise for you,” Teran whispered. Steel glinted at her fingertips, bright as the metal of the council members’ diadems.

  The fabric of her clothes began to tear. She looked down. Would she dress in the finery of a courtesan now, or would she wear Nivrai gray?

  Teran’s hand moved to cup her breast, the metal flitting against skin and nipple. Cailyn arched back as Teran’s other hand slid down her chest and stomach. The claws retracted with a click. Cailyn stood and spread her legs.

  Teran’s fingers speared her in a quick, smooth movement. She moved against them, her flesh opening and opening to Teran’s fingers.

  Now, whatever else she’d lost, there would be no end to this. She ground hard into Teran’s hand, gasping, her flesh alight. Her back stung in time with the building heat inside her.

  Her eyes opened. The whirlwind of memories peaked and broke.

  Teran slid her fingers free. Cailyn lifted her head in answer. Teran’s smiling face filled her vision.

  Steel moved to cup her chin, slid over her cheek.

  “Welcome home, my little one,” Teran said.

  THE END

  About the Author

  Alexa Black lives in the Washington, DC, area where she works as a peer mentor and advocate for people with disabilities. She has a master’s degree in philosophy from Georgetown University, but has always returned to her passion for writing. Though a philosopher by training, she would rather inflict complicated questions on her characters and take readers along than lecture about them. When not writing, she can be found gaming, seeking out new restaurants to try, or drinking ridiculous, fancy coffee. Steel and Promise is her first novel.

  She can be found online at: http://writeralexablack.blogspot.com/ and www.facebook.com/alexablackwriter and emailed at alexablack44@gmail.com.

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