Mid-Arc

by David Gosnell

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 1

  She thinks the pleasure will be all hers. She’s so wrong. Crawling like a hungry animal, I’ve arrived at the chair where she sits so invitingly. My gaze moves up to her eyes from the beauty of her womanhood. I know what she likes. I know how she likes it. I kiss the inside of her leg, near her knee.

  You don’t just dive in there.

  Though I really want to. There needs to be some romance, some tension, some buildup to it before going in to take her over the edge. She taught me that.

  Silithes. My mistress. My master. My everything.

  My trail of kisses follows a meandering path – inside her thigh, on top of her thigh, then back again, leading to her beautiful belly. I start to work my way down when she halts my progress.

  “Arthur, stop.”

  Confusion takes over. I raise my head up. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No. Just stop. It’s not what I want now.”

  She can’t mean that. I just haven’t started yet. Once I do, she’ll be happy. That always makes her happy. I go all in.

  Her foot that was over the arm of the chair plants in my chest, stopping me.

  “Stop it. Gods, Arthur, when did you become so weak?” she says, punishing me with her accusation.

  I look at my mistress, lost for words. I’ve displeased her. I’m weak and have a useless, fleshy human dick.

  “I’m sorry, mistress.”

  She looks at me critically.

  “I don’t believe you. I trained you to be better than this.”

  Training. Yes. I know what she likes. I’ll show her.

  So I dive back into her soft, sensitive, tasty self with abandon. I’ll show her how strong I am.

  Or maybe not, as pain shoots up the back of my head as I’m pulled away by the hair.

  “Damn it! I said stop. Would you just snap out of it?” she asks.

  Confusion fills me.

  “Snap out of what, my mistress?”

  “You can’t be serious. Snap out of it!”

  The slap across my face burns. She’s really mad at me. I have done something terrible. I bury my head at her feet and beg for forgiveness.

  “Sit up!”

  I sit up straight.

  “Would you just snap out of it?”

  The next slap has me seeing stars and my ears ring. I feel my head bounce off the floor. I can’t believe the bitch hit me like that.

  Crap sticks.

  That bitch. The words slip out with the recognition of what’s been done to me.

  “You damn bitch, you mind-fucked me.”

  “That’s more like it,” she purrs back.

  I stand up, glaring at her. She’s looking confident and relaxed.

  “What are you all mad about? I let you go.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “How did you ever become so weak? I thought I trained you against such things. I guess I’ll just have to be more careful with you.”

  Those statements piss me off. Weak – right? I know what the problem is, so I clue her in:

  “Well, Silithes, I think it’s that I trusted you. Don’t have to worry about that anymore. Want to try me?”

  To punctuate, I look her dead in the eyes, daring her to do her worst. We stand there staring at each other when I lose my edge. Not because of Silithes. It’s because I’m standing there buck naked. It’s hard for me to be intimidating with all my parts hanging out.

  “Oh please, Arthur, it’s not like I haven’t seen it before.”

  I make a beeline to my undergarments.

  “Now, there are matters we have to discuss moving forward, dear,” she says. “Things like respect and…”

  “Oh, just shut your damn piehole,” I spit back at her, interrupting a whole litany of crap I just don’t want to hear. “For that matter shut ’em both.”

  That response gets a momentary look of surprise.

  “Here’s the thing, before you go all me, me, blah, blah. You need to hear a few things. You never gave me a chance. Not one. You’re as bad as Sheyliene – you just ran away and thought the worst. And you believed that damn recording? Knowing who it’s from? What the hell? I don’t know what kind of mixed-up monsters are running around in that head of yours, but seriously, I’m starting not to care.”

  Silithes seethes. “You do not talk to me like that. Ever.”

  “Well, how about this then? Silithes, I’ve been worried sick about you – no lie. And unlike some people, I just can’t turn my emotions on and off. So let me say – just to get it out there… I love you. But right now, I don’t like you. Or trust you. At all. So, if you would be so kind, please get the hell out of my room and out of my sight.”

  The look on her face is shock – for all of half a second before the “yes, you may worship me” face returns.

  “Oh, Arthur, that’s so cute. You think you can tell me what to do.”

  “Not telling. Asking. I don’t even know you anymore. Have a shred of self-respect and get out. Stand yourself up on those racehorse legs and get stepping.”

  “If I walk out that door, then I’m walking out forever. You lose me. You lose a succubus,” Sil says, daring my request.

  So many snarky replies come to mind. Instead, I take a deep breath.

  “Just go, please.”

  She gets up, looking at me with disdain. She walks to the door and stops.

  “Last chance. If I go out the door, I go forever.”

  Silithes being sleep-deprived or not, I’m in no mood to be treated as a toy or a lesser-than.

  “Don’t let the door hit you.”

  “Asshole,” she hisses, before slamming the door on her way out.

  I stand there alone in the realization the Silithes I knew isn’t there. Znuul was right – she is batshit crazy. I reel back for a moment and bump against the wall – it’s over. Despair turns to anger, and I spin around, punching the wall.

  The drywall gives on both sides. Then I realize how lucky I am.

  If I hit one of the metal studs, I’d probably have broken my hand.

  Chapter 2

  Looking at the hole in the wall, I can’t help but think that my host is going to be a little upset with me. It was a stupid, juvenile thing to do.

  Thank goodness that wall leads to my tiny bathroom/shower area. I imagine my neighbors wouldn’t care about that sort of interruption. Fortunately, I’m not without some handyman skills and have patched my share of wallboard. Maybe Znuul won’t be as mad when I offer to repair and paint it myself.

  I look at the clock on the nightstand that each bunker room has – 3:24 a.m. She couldn’t even pick a decent hour.

  I go back to looking at my damage. The hole makes me think of my heart. Sure, I’m pissed – but I still care. That has nothing to do with “You lose a succubus.” It has everything to do with losing someone I care for. I broke the wall. I broke us up, too. And I’m fixating on drywall because it’s the one thing I can fix.

  She has to be accountable in this, too. Damn. Nothing good at all came from this encounter or whatever you would call it.

  I know someone/something who would be happy at our breakup. Maybe I should congratulate him. I stroll over to where Yayne’s box is against the wall and open it.

  “Gotta be happy. I know you gotta be happy,” I say quietly.

  I reach down and pull Yayne from
the box and then from the scabbard, his shiny, ever-sharp blade reflecting the light. “Go on… say it. Say ‘I told you so.’”

  I feel what I think is anxiety; then words ring in my mind, “You are in pain.”

  “Really? Like I haven’t been since you called for whatever it is that you did. Go on, prideful sword; hit me with it,” I whisper back, so as not to further disturb any neighbors.

  There’s a moment of nothingness, which I guess is Yayne thinking. Then words come, “She did release you from servitude.”

  Now it’s my turn for silence. Never in a million years would I expect that response. My mouth starts to move, but nothing comes out because my brain hasn’t formed words. I drop Yayne to my side absently.

  “Thank you for that,” I say quietly.

  “It is a difficult time,” says the voice in my head.

  He’s not lying.

  I hear my door open and Silithes’ voice. “Arthur MacInerny – we’re not ending like that.”

  I turn around rapidly. She takes a step toward me and then stops completely. Her eyes go down to Yayne and back to me. Her face goes blank in terror. Her mouth opens to scream, but nothing comes out. She tries to backpedal, but her feet are moving too fast, and she spills to the ground.

  I’m confused and step in to lend her a hand up.

  “Nooo!” Silithes screams and scrabbles backward, trapping herself into the corner. She puts her arm up to protect herself followed by a wing.

  “To the right,” Yayne yells.

  I turn in time to be shoved back a good couple of steps by Jxsiga.

  “What did you do?” she rails at me, looking down at a now softly glowing Yayne.

  “Crap. Nothing,” I say, pitching Yayne away so not to seem such a threat.

  Jxsiga wastes no more time with me. She’s over to Silithes, on her knees, trying to calm her down.

  “Hey, baby, it’s me. It’s okay, nobody’s going to hurt you,” she says, punctuating it with a stern glance my way. “Come on out; it’s me.”

  Silithes slowly pulls her wing back, and Jxsiga immediately moves inside, wrapping Silithes in a hug and showering her with little kisses, caresses, and “it’s all rights.”

  I can see Silithes is still shaking a bit. Her eye glances at me and quickly looks away. Jxsiga stands and helps Silithes to her feet. Which is an interesting thing, as skinny Jxsiga at five-foot-nothing makes an interesting contrast to a much buxomer and six-foot-something Silithes.

  “Come on. I got you,” says Jxsiga, leading Silithes away by the hand.

  Silithes stops.

  “No. I need to stay here. I need to deal with this.”

  They stand silent, eyes locked for what feels like too long a moment.

  Jxsiga is the one to break the moment, turning to me with that baleful glare she does just a little too well and says, “Be nice.” She turns back to Silithes, her glare turning to something more adoring. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

  Silithes says “Thanks,” and follows Jxsiga to the door, closing it after she leaves.

  “Sorry about that,” she says quietly, while making her way past me to the chair. “Little panic attack there. You see, I’ve been having these dreams. Two basically. One, we’re making love, and I look down and see that I’ve eaten you all up. That’s good for waking up in a sweat.”

  “Okay,” is my safe word, I use it accordingly.

  “The other is you, with that damn sword, are out to kill me. You’re like some kind of unstoppable terminator monster. When I came in and saw you holding the sword, it was just like out of my dreams.” She looks away. “I felt very helpless. Needless to say, I don’t sleep much. And when I do, not for long.”

  Her eyes turn back to me, “I didn’t come back here to tell you all that. I, uh… we can’t end it like we did.”

  I don’t say a thing. In this case, my poker face is useful – it says “go on.”

  “Did you mean what you said? Oh gods, of course, you did! You’re Arthur Freakin’ MacInerny, you don’t play those games. I’m sorry. I’m a little off lately.”

  She looks down, takes a deep breath, and then looks back up. “I’m very glad you still love me. I, yes… I shouldn’t have run. I should have come back. I shouldn’t have thought the worst. It’s just easier to blame you.”

  “Blame me?”

  “I’m not saying it was right. It’s just…” She doesn’t finish the thought but instead looks away, collecting herself I guess, until I notice that she’s very slowly rubbing herself in a most private way.

  “Need a moment?”

  That statement startles her back to awareness. She pulls her hand away.

  “Sorry, the old habits come back with a vengeance. You know how I came about that… quirk, right?”

  “It feels good.”

  That response gets a roll of the eyes.

  “Before I was sent to the white for who knows how long, Maldgorath compelled me to self-loathing as torture. There I am in the white, mentally tearing myself apart every second. The only relief was that moment when I wasn’t thinking. Eventually, I could just focus on the sensation of the touch and turn my brain off. It stuck.”

  Damn Maldgorath. All of my summonlings carry deep scars from him, whether they show it more obviously like Sheyliene, or are better at hiding it, like Silithes. I downgrade my posture by sitting down on the edge of the bed and saying, “take your time.”

  “Thank you. Anyway, I guess it was easier to believe you were thinking all these negative things, of me. Because… because really I was. And I can’t do that. I can’t let myself do that. I did that for far too long.”

  Her eyes scan around, and she sees the hole in the wall.

  “Mad at me?”

  “Yeah. Angry at myself, too. Angry at Yayne. Angry at fate. But the wall was innocent and didn’t deserve that.”

  For the first time since I’ve seen her, there is a glimmer of a real smile directed at me. But the smile fades away.

  “Yes. I understand,” she says quietly. “I called you weak. That wasn’t fair. Do you want to hear weak? Here I am, living any summonling’s dream – to be free and whole again, and all I want is to be in your keep. I’d give all this up in a heartbeat to be back. Isn’t that sad? Isn’t that weak? You know it’s not the pleasure reflection thing, or the insta-feedings I really miss. What I really miss is that feeling when you would walk into the room and were so happy to see me. It’s that feeling that I was cherished, not just some concubine to get off with.”

  She wipes a tear from her eye. “I’ll never feel that again. Not the way I did. Our months were the best of my very, very long life. Now just... gone.”

  All my summonlings are very sensitive to me. She provides me with a reminder of just how much they are.

  I realize we’re talking – not fighting, not accusing, not posturing. I see the Silithes I know; yeah, she’s a bit on the beaten-down side, but it’s her. Sil – not whatever face or persona she was putting out there before.

  “I’m glad we’re finally talking Silithes,” I say evenly. “We should pick this up tomorrow after we’ve had some rest. We both need it.”

  She shares that foreign look of hers and says, “I understand. Somehow, I don’t think I’ll be sleeping much. Would you do me a favor? Would you say it again?”

  “What?”

  “That you love me.”

  I did put it out there.

  “Silithes, I do love you. But we have work to do – on us. You were right. I should have never told The Protectorate anything. And you… you know.”

  “I do,” she tells me quietly, starting to stand.

  I stand as well. She steps in toward me, and damn my reflexes, I step back. The look that comes across her face tells me she’s hurt.

  “Can you trust me? Please.”

  Those alligator-like eyes of hers are pleading, but there’s no telepathic funny business. I check the measures of my mental defenses. This is one of those moments where
the decision you make has longstanding repercussions.

  “I’ll try.”

  She closes the gap between us without a word and wraps me in a hug, laying her head on my shoulder. I meet that hug. It lingers. It’s nice. We release it, and she takes my face into her hands and kisses me softly.

  It’s nice. It’s real.

  She takes a step back and says, “Please. I need you to trust me again.”

  Before I can say a word, she undoes the tie-down on her robe and then removes it entirely.

  “Silithes,” I say, shaking my head.

  She turns around and climbs into my bed. Then she rolls over and holds out her arms.

  “Make love to me, Arthur. Please.”

  Chapter 3

  Beijing, China

  Cheng Ming sits at the head of the table, surrounded by aides and looks at Zang Jun with a critical eye.

  “So you have no idea what this is about – why they would call an emergency meeting with such short notice and why they would insist the president himself attend?”

  Zang knows. But he’s not telling. In his mind, Cheng is messing everything up. He knows that for a fact because Jneailith told him so. Instead of telling the truth, that he shared with the ambassadors his government’s plans for delay and confiscation of their property, he tells Cheng what he was instructed to.

  “All I know is they received information that displeased them. From where or what that information is, they would not say. But they insisted on this meeting so as I told you already, they could determine if moving ahead is still possible.”

  Cheng scrutinizes Zang. He has known Zang for some time. There’s something different, a confidence in him.

  “So what are your thoughts?” he asks Zang.

  Zang takes the measure of Executive Director Ming, a man he has both feared and looked up to. He seems so small and out of touch with his own machinations.

  “You mean what do I guess the problem is? Let us be clear, all I can do is guess. But my guess would be somehow they have caught wind of your plan for their cargo.”

  “Impossible,” responds Cheng.

  “A guess only. But is it that impossible? Please tell me you have not involved the dock authority? Corruption at the docks is a fact. Leaks at the military are possible, too, even if they have no idea what they are intercepting. Someone sharing a vessel name could be more than enough.”