The Demon's Possession

by Kiersten Fay

  “Sleep well. I'll return in the morning to check on you.” Then he turned to leave.

  An intense wave of fear swept through her, almost stealing her breath. In a shaky voice, she called to him before he was out the door. “Bastian!”

  With one hand on the door frame, he turned to her. “Yes?”

  “Don't leave.” Her voice was barely a whisper. With obvious concern, he came back into the room. “Please don't leave me alone.”

  * * *

  Sebastian saw terror behind her eyes. “What are you frightened of?”

  At first she didn't answer. “I don't know. I feel…wrong. I'm just…don't leave me alone. Please.”

  Fierce primal protectiveness overcame him. He wouldn't deny her request, and he didn't like that she felt unsafe in her own bed. The desire to join her and wrap his arms around her until she felt at ease almost overwhelmed him. But he would keep his distance.

  Claiming the couch, he said, “Very well, I'll sleep here for tonight, how's that?”

  For a moment he thought she might protest his chosen location, but she relaxed against her pillow and only watched him for a moment before closing her eyes. He thought, just before her lids joined, that they had fired silver, but assured himself he was mistaken.

  Soon her breathing slowed. She was asleep. If only he could fall asleep so easily. The couch smelled of her, drowning him in her scent, keeping him tense with need, and constantly reminding him of the way her warm soft body felt against his. The way she tasted on his lips, the feel of her perfect ass under his palm.

  He ground his jaw. At this rate, he would be up all night with a raging hardon, but at least she would sleep through the night. It filled him with gratifying pleasure that she felt safe with him.

  According to Anya, she'd only had two drinks tonight. It didn't make sense that two drinks would knock her on her ass so quickly. Especially since Sonya didn't put very much alcohol in the punch.

  * * *

  ——

  * * *

  At some point during the night, when Sebastian was somewhere between sleep and awake, he heard the door slide open. Footsteps came near, and he shot straight up.

  “Oh, shit.” Xandar jumped and fumbled with something in his hands, almost dropping it. After recovering, he asked in a breathless voice, “What are you doing here? You scared the shit out of me.”

  Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing sneaking into Anya's room in the middle of the night?”

  “I wasn't sneaking. I was worried about her. She didn't look too good when she left, so I was coming to check on her. Plus, she didn't get any cake, so I thought I'd bring her some before it was all gone.” He pointed to the covered container in his hand.

  “She's asleep now and shouldn't be disturbed. Leave the cake if you want. I'll tell her you brought it.” Sebastian didn't like his excuse and really didn't like that he was able to get into her room so easily while she was unconscious. Suspicion clouded his mind. Xandar set the cake on the coffee table and turned to leave. “Xandar, how many drinks did she have?”

  “I'm not sure. She must have had quite a few though, to get sick like that. Tell her I stopped by to check on her.” Then he was gone.

  Sebastian glared after him. There was no way he was going to tell Anya that Xandar came into her room while she was sleeping. She was frightened enough as it was.

  In the morning he would reset the lock on her door.

  * * *

  ——

  * * *

  Anya awoke to a splitting headache.

  “How are you feeling?”

  The light in the room was brighter than she remembered. She squinted up at Sebastian. “Like I fell on my head some time during the night. What happened?”

  “You might have had too much to drink.”

  That didn't sound right. She tried to remember the party. There was the one drink before dinner and one during. “I'm sure I only had two drinks. The last thing I remember is dancing with you.” She felt her cheeks grow warm. “What happened after that?”

  “Not much. You got dizzy, so I brought you back here and put you to bed.”

  Bed? No, he didn't!

  She looked around her, then regretted the quick movement. “You put me in the bed instead of the couch?” Her hackles began to rise and, despite the pain in her head, she was ready to yell at him.

  “Yes. I took the couch.”

  That was like a splash of cold water to the face. “You slept…here? Why?”

  “Because, you asked me to.”

  Why would I do such a thing?

  He caught her expression and answered her unspoken questions. “You were afraid. That's all. And see, you slept the night through, in the bed, and you're still alive. Amazing, isn't it.”

  Through grinding teeth, “That's probably why I was afraid in the first place.” Sebastian just smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. She tilted her head at him. “What is it?”

  “Nothing. You can stay here all day and recover. No training, no serving in the galley, or at the pub. Are you hungry?”

  “A little.” She sensed there was something else he wasn't telling her. His energy was tight.

  “I'll bring your meals to you, so you don't have to leave.” He pointed to the bedside table where a large glass of water and plate of pastries rested. She downed the water in a matter of minutes and relaxed back on the bed, leaving the pastries for later—when her stomach and head were finished with their acrobatics.

  Sebastian departed, promising to return with lunch. It didn't take long for her to drift back to sleep, not even realizing that she hadn't bothered to move herself to the couch, like she'd planned.

  The door to her room slid open and she was instantly awake. The noise was, for some reason, disturbing. She bolted up in bed and had to grab her head between both hands.

  “It's just me.” Sebastian carried a tray of food toward her and then pointedly eyed the forgotten pastries. “I brought lunch. Did I wake you?”

  Lunchtime already?

  Her stomach growled as she nodded at him. “But it's okay. Obviously my stomach is happy to be awake.” The food smelled delicious, and she dug in without another word. She closed her eyes as she chewed, enjoying every flavor. It was already making her feel better. When she was done, she noticed Sebastian staring at her.

  “I enjoy watching you eat,” he said. “It's like you savor the last bite as much as the first.” He seemed a little different today, softer. He was smiling and relaxed. His usual mask was nowhere to be found.

  She smiled back at him and set the finished tray aside. “I can't help it. All the new flavors are too good to ignore. I want to commit them all to memory so I never forget them. So the next time I taste something similar it will always remind me.”

  “Remind you of what?”

  “My time here, with all of you. No matter what happens to me, I'll always remember how happy I was, am, on this ship.” She settled back down and cuddled into the pillow.

  Sebastian's smile had faded slightly. “I hope wherever you end up, you'll be happier than you are here.”

  That made her smile. “That's a nice thought.” However, hard to believe.

  He walked to the door. “Do you need anything else?”

  “No. Thank you.”

  When he was gone, Anya felt his absence like a heavy weight. She liked it when he was near, and was starting to think of him constantly when he wasn't.

  Her memory of the night before was returning in chunks. Soon after Sebastian had carried her from the party, she had begun to feel—besides dizzy—an almost maddening desire to be touched. But she couldn't get the words out, or even get control over her body. If she had, Sebastian would have had to fight her off of him.

  She remembered asking him to stay with her. He'd given little, almost no protest at all. Only, she hadn’t meant for him to sleep on the couch. She had almost outright invited him into her bed. Luckily she’d had the sense—or was it the degenera
ting vocal skills—not to push the issue. She must have passed out at that point.

  She should be thanking the gods for that.

  Should be.

  Chapter 13

  By evening, Anya started to feel better and was getting restless. She felt well enough to put in some hours at the pub. After a long shower that washed away the last of the effects of the alcohol, she dressed in a white blouse, the fabric light and airy, and a patterned skirt that fell just above the knees. Her blond curls were left to flow free.

  Anya thought of Sebastian, knowing he'd bring dinner and find her room empty. She was certain he'd show up at the pub, if only to complain about her working instead of resting. But Anya didn't feel right about taking a whole day off, and she was embarrassed that she hadn't been able to last until the end of the party. Her own party, at that. She hadn't even had a taste of Marik's cake.

  Exiting the room, she was immediately pushed back in by a pair of strong hands. At first she thought it was Sebastian, but the energy was wrong. “Xandar?”

  “Anya, I'm sorry our date got interrupted. You truly are a lightweight.” He continued to guide her farther into the room as he spoke.

  “Uh…That's okay, Xandar. I…What are you doing?” The backs of her legs hit the edge of the bed. His energy was dark and muddy. It reminded her of…

  Darius.

  It felt like Darius was in the room with her.

  “I thought you would want a proper ending to our date.”

  She watched in despair as the door closed behind him. Then he was on her. Pushing her into the bed, he covered her with his body, while holding her arms on either side of her. His mouth latched onto hers.

  Turning her head, Anya cried out. “Xandar! Stop!” He didn't. He released one hand only to fist the material of her blouse and pull. She heard a rip, and her mind went wild, followed closely by her body. Xandar had to restrain her arms once again as she continued to struggle like a crazed animal.

  “You'll like it, I promise. Though you would have liked it better last night.” His lips pushed into hers again, and she bit him as hard as she could.

  “Ow! Bitch!” A heavy hand came fast across her face, and for a moment she saw only splotches of color. His strike put him off balance and freed her arm. Without thought, she drove her palm into his nose, causing his head to bow backward, giving her time to pull out from under him.

  Before he could regain himself and lunge for her, she smashed the heel of her foot into the part of him that would render him nothing but a puddle on the ground—good thing she was wearing a pair of spiked heels. The sound that poured from him was one of pure anguish.

  Cale's words rang through her head. “Never hesitate. When your opponent is down, either kill him, or run.” She knew she couldn't kill him, so she ran out the door in a flash. She glanced behind her to make sure he wasn't giving chase and ran into a solid wall of muscle. The impact threw her backward and she landed hard on her ass.

  Quickly pulling herself up, she fixed her position to defend herself again.

  Sebastian was staring at her, brows drawn together. “Where's the fire?”

  Xandar stumbled from the room. She changed her posture, preparing to fight him off again.

  His nose and lip were gushing blood. “Fuck!” He growled, while holding himself between the legs and pinning her with a stare that promised suffering. She'd seen that look many times before.

  Sebastian's head moved between the two of them. Then his eyes dropped to her cheek, which made her notice the sting there—she was probably bleeding—and then to her torn blouse. Only now did Xandar notice Sebastian and he winced as he tried to straighten himself.

  She felt the change instantly.

  One minute there was Sebastian, and then, poof, something else entirely stood in his place. Only a second had passed for her to notice the energy shift, a thickening pulse that seemed to push out at her.

  So fast—faster than even Calic moved—Sebastian had Xandar around the neck and slammed him against the wall with so much force that the metal let off a vibrating ring. Xandar's feet were dangling, and his face was quickly blanching from the sudden lack of oxygen.

  Sebastian's horns shifted to crimson, looking hot to the touch, and his fangs seemed to grow, doubling in size before her eyes. The sound that came out of him shot a stream of pure terror through her heart. She wouldn't call it a roar; it was far more than that. With terrible promises of gruesome and agonizing pain buried through the layers of it.

  What she saw before her was no longer a man, but a primal beast in his place. She couldn't help but back away from the sight, trembling worse now than when Xandar had attacked her.

  When Sebastian finished with Xandar, what would he do to her?

  Her frightened movement caught his attention, and he ripped his infuriated gaze from Xandar's struggles to focus on her, yet still holding him in place. His stare made her blood run cold. Xandar's flailing slowed, becoming weaker and weaker attempts at escape.

  Something in her eyes must have snapped Sebastian out of his rage because his features softened and he loosened his grip on Xandar, allowing him to suck in a straggled breath. But just as quickly, the beast was back in full control, focusing on Xandar again, who was straining for breath once more.

  Torn, heart racing, she could either watch Sebastian kill Xandar, or she could risk herself to intervene. The death of Xandar wouldn't bother her, he deserved no less, but she couldn't bear to be any part of it. She'd seen too many deaths already.

  “Sebastian,” she breathed. “Don't kill him. Okay?” He only tightened his grip and bared his fangs at Xandar. Terrified, she moved to touch him, but before she could he looked at her hand as though he would bite it off. Hesitantly, her hand clamped over his muscular arm. “Let him down.”

  At first she didn't think he could even comprehend her words. His face twisted into a mix of emotions, as though he wanted to do what she asked, but he also wanted to squeeze until he popped Xandar's head from his body.

  “Please.” Her hand was still perched on his arm, tremulously holding his gaze with hers. The sound of another breath being sucked in gave her mixed emotions, to say the least, but she persisted. Finally, she felt him switch. The beast was retreating somewhere deep within Sebastian.

  With a firm grip on Xandar, he pointed to her room and in a harsh grating voice asked, “Is anyone else in there?”

  “N…No.”

  “Get in there and don't leave until I return. Don't open the door for anyone.” He didn't wait for her to obey before dragging Xandar by the neck, kicking and screaming, down the hall.

  She entered her room with a new kind of fear soaking through her.

  Fear of Sebastian.

  * * *

  ——

  * * *

  Sebastian dug his claws into his palms, needing to regain control. Cale wasn't near to act as a release for the violent rage seething inside him. Beating the living shit out of Xandar, before dropping him in the cell, had helped a little, although it would have felt better to have killed him outright.

  Why had Anya asked him not to?

  The man had bloodied her. Tried to force himself on her. How far did he get? Sebastian's roar reverberated, bouncing off the metal of the cell walls.

  Peering down at Xandar's broken body, Sebastian slammed shut the thick metal door. This is where he will stay until his fate is decided. The bastard will wish he'd died this day.

  He rushed back, needing to get to Anya. To make sure she was okay. He'd seen the fear in her eyes. Fear of…him?

  Her touch had been abashed. Who knows how he might have looked to her. She'd clearly been terrified of him. He had scented her trepidation. But still she’d braved it to bring him back from the Edge. He needed her now, could feel himself slipping. Soon his control would be gone once more. Fury's grip was tightening.

  Anya.

  This morning, he'd reworked the lock on her door so that, from the outside, it could only be opened with a
code. Xandar must have been waiting for her to come out. Then realization smashed into him, almost forcing him back to Xandar's cell, to truly make him suffer. Xandar must have slipped something in Anya's drink, planning to take advantage of her last night.

  Slamming his fist into the wall, Sebastian could feel his fangs elongating once again. He was losing it. The only thing that could calm him now was Anya.

  When he came to her door, he entered in a rush. At the sight of her, he felt instant relief. She was standing in the middle of the room with her arms wrapped protectively around her torso. She had changed her ruined shirt, replacing it with a black top with white frill, the sleeves blossomed out at her wrists and the collar showcased the sculpted delicacy of her neck.

  If she meant to look less appealing, then she failed. Her features were drawn tight, watching him warily. When he moved toward her, she backed away.

  “Don't be frightened.” He eased toward her again, and again she moved back, almost against the wall. He didn't want her to feel cornered. With his hands up, he assured her, “Okay. I won't come any closer. I just need to know that you're okay. He didn't hurt you did he?”

  Reaching up to touch her cheek, she dabbed at the small track of blood that lingered there. “I've had worse,” she said, as if that were meant to reassure him. It only made his hackles rise. Her gaze dropped to his tightening fists, and she gasped, “You're hurt!”

  He hadn't realized his knuckles were cut from the beating he'd given Xandar, and possibly from using the ship as a punching bag. Forgetting her fear Anya reached for his hand, examining the cuts with concern.

  Before she could protest, he pulled her into him, wrapping both arms around her. “I've had worse.” He inhaled her scent and felt the last of his rage dissipate. She is safe.