Demon Seed

by Demon Seed (lit)

  What made her angry, however, was that she had really had no choice even if she’d considered the possibility, that she was ruined, whether the demon freed her or not, and that she suspected he had somehow used his powers to make it happen when it might have been a remote possibility otherwise.

  Jala had said as much. After thinking it over, she remembered the demon Malik had known it, which also seemed to her to indicate that Nuri could have not made her pregnant, but did so for some reason that escaped her.

  She couldn’t imagine why he would have except that he had been determined to win in their battle of wills.

  She felt ill only thinking about it. It would have been bad enough to find herself in such a condition under any circumstances at all, but to be carrying a demon’s seed?

  She could not help but empathize with the woman who had borne Nuri. No doubt she, too, had been a helpless captive of Malik’s, forced to endure all sorts of sexual acts she would never have willingly agreed to, her life utterly ruined, and she could not have carried a demon child home. She might manage to talk them into taking her back without such a thing, but with it?

  She was almost as horrified, though. Regardless of the circumstances, how could any woman abandon a helpless creature to die, she wondered?

  Despite her anger at Nuri, pity filled her when she thought about the way he had been abandoned to die by his own mother. Small wonder he hated mortals. And possibly he hated them because he was only a Halfling, despised by both humans and demons for something he could not help--for the demon, Malik had banished him because of his human side and certainly he was not accepted in the world of humans for they would not go near him if they could avoid it.

  One thing she could not understand was why he would do that to another after what he had suffered.

  Jala had said she would be sent away once she had borne it. Had he done it only because he wanted a son of his own? Because he was weary of being alone?

  She frowned at those thoughts, wondering if there was any possibility of truth to them. After all, he was a demon. Whatever Malik said, he seemed more demon than human to her and he did not seem to feel things as humans did. He had even scoffed at human emotions, behaved as if he could not understand why she was willing to risk all to save her mother and sister when she had told him it was because she loved them.

  She had dreaded seeing Nuri again, dreaded the confrontation she expected, and yet when nearly a week passed without a sign of him, she began to feel very let down and anxious.

  Was it only that he had no further use for her? Was it, as Jala had said, that he was angry that he had had to share her with Malik?

  Had he felt possessive toward her? And, if so, did it mean anything beyond that?

  Was he avoiding her because he was angry with her about it?

  Or was he avoiding her because he was ashamed that he had not been able to overpower Malik until the demon had expended so much energy ravishing her that he’d weakened himself?

  Maybe he wasn’t avoiding her at all. Maybe he had just tired of her?

  She woke one morning to find that her trunk had been brought to the room again.

  She wasn’t certain what to make of that, but she was glad to have it--right up until she discovered that her belly had already swollen until she could not even fasten her dresses up. She wept then, railing against Nuri, against fate, against the unwelcome thing growing inside of her.

  All she wanted was to go home. It was all she’d ever wanted, and now, more than she ever had before, she wanted her mother. She might well have found the prospect of bearing a child frightening under any circumstances, but she certainly did now--unwed, knowing the creature inside of her was a demon.

  The books, needlework, and tablets her trunk contained were some comfort to her. At least she had something to keep her hands and mind occupied.

  Right up until the very moment Nuri appeared, Colette was certain that she hated him, was furious with him, couldn’t wait until she could leave the abbey and never look back.

  Such gladness filled her when she looked up from her needlework one evening and found him standing before the fireplace that she had to remind herself to breathe.

  She’d forgotten how handsome he was, she realized, feeling warm all over as images filled her mind of his caresses.

  She couldn’t think of anything to say. An awkward, uncomfortable silence settled between them as they gazed at each other.

  “You look--well,” Nuri growled finally, his face darkening as he looked away from her and stared down at the flames on the hearth.

  Colette’s disappointment was crushing, all the more so because she had felt so thrilled to see him. She wondered what he had meant to say. Pregnant? Ugly and bloated? Recovered?

  She returned her attention to her needlework, finding her long lost anger at last.

  “Yes. I have recovered from being fucked senseless,” she snapped, and then was horrified by the words that had slipped out. What made it worse was that she desperately wanted to be fucked senseless again. She hadn’t realized that part of her restlessness was because she had grown all too accustomed to being thoroughly rutted with extreme regularity and her body now knew the lack.

  “I would have--stopped it if it had been within my power,” he snarled.

  That hesitation gave her pause. She didn’t know why, but she had the feeling he had meant to say protected. It was absurd, of course, mere wishful thinking on her part, because to want to protect her he would have had to have actually cared, which was not the same thing at all as merely feeling possessive. “Would you?” she asked, trying not to sound hopeful.

  He glanced at her sharply. Instead of answering her, however, he moved to the high backed chair across from her and sprawled in it.

  Colette tried not to notice the way his breeches clung to his manhood, faithfully outlining it--if her memory served her, and she was no longer certain it did--damn it! The only thing she was certain of was that her femininity instantly clamored to be filled.

  “Malik is a powerful demon, one of the most powerful. He was not easy to dispatch,” he said finally, anger still threading his voice but no so much as before.

  The comment resurrected memories she was trying very hard to forget, mostly because of the discomfort she felt about her behavior and lack of control, not because she felt any particular horror over it. She knew she should have. The fact that she didn’t was a dark secret she would take to her grave. She was uncomfortable enough with the self knowledge. It was not something she wanted to share.

  He studied her for several moments and seemed to take her silence as condemnation. “Believe it or not, as you will,” he growled, his face hardening with anger again.

  “I didn’t say I didn’t believe it,” Colette retorted. The fact was that she did, but that didn’t make it any more palatable to her. It was easier to have a target for one’s anger than none at all--or worse, only oneself.

  She was very sorry, now, that she had flown in the face of providence and suggested the short cut through the woods, but it could not be undone. And Nuri was hardly innocent, for if he had not taken her none of it would have happened.

  And if she had not been taken, then she could have looked forward to a long, dull and boring life as a spinster. Her honor would be intact and her virginity and they would have brought her cold comfort in her twilight years.

  Or, perhaps, she would have wed some respectable gentleman who looked like the south end of a north bound mule and bred a new image of himself on her every year.

  “But you hate me anyway.”

  Surprise flickered through Colette. “Why would you care if I did?”

  He muttered something under his breath that she did not catch. It irritated her. She had asked on impulse, but she wanted to know. “Do you care?” she prodded.

  “No!” he snarled, getting to his feet again and pacing before the hearth for several moments before he disappeared as he had come.

  Colette gaped at the
swirl of dark mist for several moments before anger filled her. “I do hate you!” she yelled at the ceiling, stamping her foot.

  She flounced in her chair when there was no response, uncertain of whether she most wanted to scream and throw something or weep. In the end, she did neither, contenting herself with wrecking the needlework she’d been working on so painstakingly and then spending several more hours carefully removing the ruined stitches.

  After nearly a week of alternating between blaming herself and blaming Nuri for her woes, Colette decided she had sulked long enough. If she had to remain pinned up in one room with no company other than Jala’s, she was going to choke the life out of Jala.

  She was trying her best not to think about her condition. She didn’t want to think about it at all, let alone consider what she would soon be facing or what her life would be afterwards. Jala was either delighted at the prospect of welcoming a new Halfling into the world, however, or if she simply gloried in tormenting Colette.

  Leaving was no longer an option even if Nuri had allowed it. She was not noticeably pregnant--yet--but she knew she would be before long for her waist had already disappeared and her belly had begun to round.

  Regardless, there would certainly not be anyone around to see who did not already know and she saw no reason to stay cooped up in one room day in and day out. The air had a bite to it that she had not noticed the last time she had ventured out. Winter was upon them and soon the ground would be covered with snow.

  Clutching her wrap more tightly about herself, she walked anyway, feeling vaguely disoriented as she stared at the near naked trees of the forest when the leaves had only just begun to turn the last time she’d noticed.

  How long had she been at the abbey, she wondered?

  What was her family doing? Were they mourning her death? She doubted that they still searched for her. They would almost certainly have given her up for dead by now.

  Would they be joyful when she returned? Or would they be mortified at the scandal her return would no doubt generate?

  Finding a bench at last, she settled on it, staring absently at the dead leaves stirred by the wind. Jala had made it clear that she would not be expected to stay after--afterwards. She had not received the news with the thrill she would have expected, in fact, just the opposite. She had felt--unwanted and unneeded, though even she thought that was a completely unreasonable attitude for someone who had struggled so hard to escape her captivity--done things she would never have thought herself capable of only to achieve that end.

  She might have questioned whether the imp knew her master’s plans, except that Nuri had not led her to believe any differently.

  Why, she wondered, did that bother her so much? Was it no more than a natural reaction to being rejected? Or was it a deeper cut than that?

  Realizing that her fingers and toes were growing numb with the chill, she got up from the bench and finished her circuit of the abbey, returning to the main entrance once more. She was not ready to return to the bed chamber, however, nor did she particularly want to linger in the main hall. She saw no sign of him, but she knew that Nuri was generally there when he wasn’t in his room and she had no desire to give him the impression that she had deliberately sought him out.

  Remembering that she had found a library on that long ago day when she had searched the abbey for her mother and sister, she considered it for several moments and finally turned down the corridor of the east wing and followed it until she came to the double doors she remembered. She hesitated as she reached for the knob, wondering if this, too, was a place Nuri spent a good deal of time in. After a moment, she dismissed it.

  He did not strike her as the type of person who found joy in books. The library had undoubtedly been designed and stocked by whoever had owned the abbey before.

  She knew the moment she entered the room that she had misjudged him. A fire crackled on the hearth. Everything about the room told her that it was a room well used for there was not a trace of dust.

  She was tempted to leave again at once, but she had read all of her own books and had come in search of something new to read. When she’d assured herself that Nuri was not in the library, she crossed the room and began to search the spines for a tempting title. Most of the books were works of non-fiction, volumes on every subject imaginable from animal husbandry to metallurgy and scientific theory. There were several books of poetry but she was not fond of love sonnets and certainly in no mood for such things now. Finally, she selected a book on gardening and horticulture. Discovering a novel about a seafaring adventure among the tomes, she took that, too.

  As she was turning to go, she saw that there were a number of books stacked upon a table near a high backed overstuffed chair that sat in front of the hearth. Several more books lay on the floor nearby.

  He had been reading. He would not be pleased if she took any of the books he had selected for himself, she knew. Curiosity drew her to examine the volumes anyway, partly because she wondered if she might find anything more to her taste, and partly because she wondered what his interests were.

  She was more puzzled than enlightened once she had examined the books. Only two of the many stacked around his chair were of an ‘enlightening’ nature, both of them collections of magical spells. The rest were novels and purely for the sake of entertainment. That in itself wasn’t nearly as perplexing as the type of stories, for each of those were romantic in nature, tales of great adventures and daring do of brave knights and their ladies.

  Replacing the books carefully in hopes he wouldn’t notice that they had been disturbed, Colette gathered her own books up again and left the library. Was he merely assuaging his own boredom with the adventures? Or was he trying to understand something he did not?

  Jala had said that Nuri was a Halfling, but whatever his overlord seemed to believe, she had seen no sign at all that he felt the gentler emotions of his human side. He had made it fairly clear that love was certainly not something he grasped. Was that it? Was he trying to understand? And did that mean he felt them but simply didn’t understand them? Or that he did not feel them and was curious?

  It saddened her in an indescribable way to think she might be right, for whatever he thought, he could never grasp those things he was not capable of feeling. It almost seemed worse to think that he was aware that something was missing and desperately seeking it, than for him to have no awareness of it at all.

  Finding once she’d settled with her books that they could not hold her interest for the thoughts rambling through her mind, Colette left the chamber again after a while and wandered about the great echoing halls of the abbey. She hadn’t realized that she had any particular goal in mind until she found herself in the dungeon.

  Flaming torches flickered and sputtered in sconces along the damp corridor. Knowing now why she’d come, Colette followed the corridor and found herself at last in the chamber she had spent so much time in. A shiver skated down her spine as she wandered about the cavernous room, examining the pillars and tables where she had been bound and tortured with exquisite pleasure.

  It almost seemed now as if it had happened to someone else and not her, and yet if she closed her eyes, the images and sensations she had felt were almost as vivid as if she were feeling them all over again.

  The girlish fantasies of passion that she’d entertained for so many years paled beside the actuality of it, but it made her realize that that capacity and yearning for passion had always been inside of her. She had learned things about herself that she hadn’t particularly wanted to know, but it had been there all along, waiting to be tapped in to or she would not have experienced such raptures, she realized.

  She wouldn’t miss it so desperately now.

  She sighed, frowning. She didn’t just miss passion in general. She missed Nuri. The things that had been done to her in this place had forced her body to respond and she had experienced pleasure that was as much torture as enjoyment, as repellent as it was attractive.

&nb
sp; She had not felt that way when Nuri had taken her. It bothered her that he had felt nothing but passion, that there had been no softer emotion attached to it. She could not lie to herself that it didn’t, but she still wanted what she’d had.

  After a few minutes, she shook the thoughts off and left the chamber, continuing her search. Finally, she pushed open a door and found what she had been looking for--the heated pool.

  She’d begun to wonder if she had imagined its existence, for she had not been in any condition to remember anything about that time very clearly. Pleasure filled her as she moved toward it.

  Kneeling on the edge of the pool, she tested the water. It was hot, almost uncomfortably so, but she knew this was the source of the unending supply of heated water that was brought to her with regularity for her baths. It was undoubtedly fed by a hot spring.

  She had not thought to bring a towel, but the water was too inviting to ignore and she didn’t feel like going all the way back upstairs in search of a linen to dry herself. The water heated the room itself. She could simply sit by the pool when she’d bathed as long as she wanted and wait until her skin was dry.

  Peeling her clothes off, she left them far enough from the pool to keep them from getting wet and moved to the steps leading down into the water. A cake of soap lay on the lip of the pool and once she’d submerged herself, she picked it up and sniffed it.

  A tangy, woodsy scent filled her nostrils. Currents of pleasure wafted through her.

  Nuri bathed here. If she closed her eyes, she could vividly recall the light scent on his skin.

  Emerging from the water, she stood on one of the steps and rubbed the soap slowly over her arms, her belly, her breasts, and finally her thighs and between them. Scooping water into her hands, she rubbed the soap into her skin then, creating a sudsy foam.

  She wasn’t even startled when she looked up and discovered Nuri standing beside the pool, watching her, his legs braced in a wide stance, his arms folded over his chest, his expression hard and uncompromising. She realized instantly that that had been in the back of her mind all the time she had wandered about the abbey, that she had not been wandering idly or without purpose. She had been searching for Nuri, invading his private spaces in the hope that he would not be able to ignore her intrusion.