by Imogen Sera
"You have wings," I say, gasping as his fangs scrape over my collarbone.
He freezes where he is. His tongue is against my skin, his hands are on my waist, but he doesn't move an inch for a long minute. As I wonder what he's going to do, what I said wrong, all of the heat in me leaves in a flood, and I'm left naked and embracing a man...demon...thing who I've never even seen before and whose name I don't know.
"Oh my god," I say, and take a step back from him. I crouch down to grab the blanket that's wound around my ankles and wrap it around me, tucking the end in tightly to stay put. "Oh my god," I say again.
He stretches to his full height and I realize what an insanely dangerous situation I'm in. I'm alone in a room with a seven-foot tall purple guy with horns and wings and deadly looking fangs. I don't know why I was kissing him, I don't know why I was so crazy about wanting him, but I do know that as scared as I should have been when I woke up in this place is as scared as I am now.
It doesn't help that's he's positively glaring at me, or that his fingers and claws are curled around my upper arms.
We're both silent for a long stretch as he watches me. I don't know what he's trying to figure out, but it's clearly something, and I only jump a little when he finally speaks.
"Your magic was more...potent than even I anticipated, witch."
I shake my head. "I'm not whoever you think I am, you've got the wrong person," I say, stepping back from him until my knees are against the bed. "Please. Just send me back home and I won't tell anyone about this, I promise."
He looks thoughtful for a second and I think that maybe he's considering it. I don't know what to do besides beg for my freedom, and I will totally beg if I can just go home and forget about this crazy dream. And maybe that's still what it is--I have been having ridiculous dreams lately.
"You're still mine," he says, and I'm frozen in place as he crosses the room to a large chest against the wall. "But seeing as you're here to kill me, I can't have you running around."
He's back in front of me with a length of silken rope in his hand. His eyes are dark but blazing, and even as he holds my wrists together with one hand, all I can think about is how I want to run my fingers through his hair, and how I should have taken the opportunity when I was touching him.
This is more than my libido and that scares the shit out of me, because I don't know what kind of force is working on me. I do know that I would have had sex with him without question a minute ago, and probably still now, if he were willing.
He lifts my wrists high, until my arms are fully extended overhead. I don't realize what he's doing until my hands bump into the frame of the poster bed, and I don't panic until he tightens the cord around them.
I want to ask what he's doing and how long this will be, but he's given me absolutely no information so far. "Fuck you," I say instead, looking up into his face as I stand on my tiptoes to lessen the pull of the cord against my wrists.
He puts one claw under my jaw, the tip pressing under my chin. "Don't tempt me," he says, and then crosses the room to the door.
He pauses there, facing away from me, and I can finally see his wings. They're folded in, and an inky black as dark as his eyes, but from the bits of membrane that I can see, they look worn...tattered. I want to see them unfolded, I want to run my hands over them, and I cross my stupid legs to relieve the pressure of the thought.
"What is your name?" he asks, turning to me from the doorway.
"Eve," I say, wondering why I didn't feel compelled to lie. Wondering why I answered at all.
"Eve," he says, and his tongue darts over his lower lip briefly. "I am Az'ralon."
I don't have a chance to respond before he leaves, shutting the door heavily behind him.
Chapter 4
Az'ralon
I don't know what to do, but I need to have a second just to fucking think clearly. Which I obviously can't do when I'm in the same room as the dream girl. The little betrayer. Eve.
So I stalk through the halls. I don't really know what to do until I find myself at the bottom of one of many staircases and facing the training grounds outside. The massive windows overlook them, where the largest faction of the armies of Vadit assemble and train. I'd really like to fucking take out some tension on a soldier or ten, and they're at least trained to survive it.
When the witch--Eve--put on her act of ignorance, I thought I was going to hit her. I've never felt that so strongly, and certainly not toward a woman who's not actively trying to kill me. So I did the only thing that made sense. I devoured her.
She's an excellent little actress. I could really believe that she's being affected as I am, that she was as desperate for my touch as I was for hers. And that's a problem, because I'm predisposed to liking her. Because of the dreams. Because she's delicate and soft and nothing in all of the centuries of my life has ever felt as good as her skin against mine.
I'm not in the mood for talking as I move outside, so I'm silent as I stalk through the courtyard, past the statues and amphitheater and the dozens of lounging, lazy demons stretched out in the sun. I don't have a reputation for being approachable, but apparently I'm extra foreboding today, because not a single one of the women that usually tries to win my favor approaches.
I'm headed for a particular person who I know will knock my head sideways and hurt me until I can do something other than seethe. I've known Ronan since before I took power--he had a big hand in my ascension. He's good at killing rulers and leaving thrones open, and while it benefited me once, I try to keep that fact in mind.
I don't think I need to. He's as close to family as I have, and he enjoys his position as general. Still, I wouldn't be any kind of ruler at all if I weren't constantly assessing threats to myself of my position.
Which makes all of this more complicated, because Eve is mine. I don't give a shit that she's here to kill me or knock me out of my place, but she's tormented me in dreams for months, and as soon as I saw her, I knew she was mine.
I approach Ronan with hundreds of recruits' eyes on me. I'm used to it, after decades of attention, but if I could be in charge here without people staring all the time, I'd certainly enjoy it more.
"Hit me," I say, when I'm next to him on the training platform.
He doesn't hesitate at all, just pulls his fist back and lands a dizzying blow against my jaw. This is why I like him--there's no questioning my request, no confirming what I want. He just trusts me to communicate effectively, and I trust him to be able to carry out my wishes.
The sharp pain is welcome, but that doesn't stop my more vicious nature from emerging. I attack him instantly, with claws across his face and teeth aiming for his neck. Blood splatters on the ground below, but then, it always does.
Ronan is a better fighter than I am. He better fucking be, because that's his job. But it's freeing to spar with someone who I know can best me, even if it's close, because I'm able to unleash all of my fury against him.
And I do. I fight him with my fists and teeth and claws, and he hits me back just as hard, until I think I've cracked a rib and my thighs are battered and bruised from his boots. He doesn't hold back, either--he won't kill me, but that's about the only thing he won't do. But he'll fight me until I tell him to stop, and he even aims a hard kick square in the center of my chest as I bend to catch my breath.
I raise a hand for him to stop after long, painful minutes have passed. Ronan looks like shit, with a blackened eye and cuts all along his face. His jaw is bruised, and I can see that he's favoring his left leg. He helps me upright anyway, claps my shoulder and raises his eyebrows.
I don't feel exactly like I can think, but I do feel like I can last at least a few minutes before charging back up to my bedroom and fucking Eve's sweet little body into my mattress.
"So," he says, moving away from the group that's formed to watch, "what's your fucking problem?"
"Complicated," I say, walking back toward the castle next to him.
"So it seems," he s
ays, his face grim. "Nox told me about her," he admits.
I sigh. "What's the good of a spy who can't keep anything quiet?"
He frowns at me before nodding. "Find Nox," he says. "I know you're struggling, but just keep him informed. The two of us will make sure this turns out alright."
I take his advice and find Nox in his favorite place--interrogating prisoners in the dungeons below the courtyard. He's cheerful even as he carries out the grim task.
I tell him about fighting Ronan, and the violence I feel, and he just grins at me.
"I don't know what to do," I admit.
Nox grins at me again, and I stay next to him as we go back inside and upstairs. We turn down a hallway that I've spent time in, but not for a while, and I frown at him.
"What are we doing here?" I ask, my voice dangerously low. The thought of this shouldn't bother me so much--but all I know is that Eve is mine, and what's behind these doors feels like a threat to that.
"I'm finding a girl," he says, swinging open a massive door and revealing the room beyond. There's a bathing pool set into the floor all along the length of the room, and more than a dozen of the most beautiful females in the entire realm reclining in the shallow water. They're all nude, all eager, and all ready to please me at a single command. "I think you need to find one, too."
"I already have one," I say, thinking of the sound Eve made in her throat while I licked her neck.
Nox shrugs and seats himself in one of the low, oversized chairs in the room. It doesn't even take ten seconds for two of the girls to come to him, one across his lap and the other draping herself over the back of the chair.
He'll probably take them both and tell me about it in more detail than I want to hear.
"You're obviously tense," he says. "Violent. Relieve some tension here before you go back to her." The only indication that the blonde woman on his lap is nibbling on his earlobe is his easy grin as he speaks.
I almost consider it for a second. It sounds good on the surface, and it probably would help before I figure out how the fuck I'm supposed to deal with the ridiculous little traitor tied up in my bedroom. But it doesn't matter how it sounds, because as I look around the room at the women, with their creamy skin and long legs and rosy nipples, I feel nothing but a mild revulsion. I don't want to look at their bodies, I want to look at Eve's body.
I leave without another word. I will see her body, and I'm going to fuck her if she doesn't object. Which she won't, because she's a fucking traitor who's here to distract and possibly kill me.
I'm only disturbed at how much I don't care.
Chapter 5
Eve
My wrists hurt, but my shoulders hurt more. So do my calves, which I've been using way more than I usually do for the last, oh, million hours? Probably closer to two hours, I suppose, but it feels like a million.
I hate this asshole. I hate his pretty face and his stupid horns and the way that he won't answer a single one of my questions. I hate that for some reason, I lose all sense when he touches me. I hate that somehow that hasn't gone away, and I'm still wet between my thighs and fantasizing about him putting his hands back on me.
The position I'm in doesn't help. Somehow, my makeshift blanket dress is still up, tucked tightly around my chest. But that only means that the thin fabric of it scrapes over my nipples every time I shift at all.
The room I'm in is strange. I feel like I'm in a cave, and I actually might be. It's a vaguely round shape, and the walls are rough rock while the floors are polished rock. There's not a window, which explains how it was so very dark when I woke up. There are four thick rugs on the floor and I'm grateful that there's one under my feet right now, as well as a mountain of pillows in the corner of the room. Aside from the bed, there's a desk and a small table, and I can't help but feel like I probably could have been tied to a chair somehow and been much more comfortable.
I'm glaring at the door when Az'ralon returns. He looks...different. Probably because of all of the blood on his toga skirt thing, and the many swollen cuts and bruises covering his midsection. But his gaze is so hot, and I know he feels as desperate as I do.
He traces a finger across the top of my blanket, his touch leaving a trail of heat behind. I want to shrink under his gaze, but I can't look away. Because his finger is on my skin, but his eyes are on my face, and even more than I want my wrists free, I want him to keep touching me.
He moves his finger from my chest to over my shoulder, and then follows a line along my inner arm all the way up to my wrists which are still bound over my head. He unties the cord smoothly, but I'm barely aware of that as I'm staring unashamedly at his face.
His hand closes around my wrists, holding them together in his long fingers. He steps closer to me at the same time that he pulls me closer to him. Being so close to him feels so right that I want to close my eyes in bliss.
But then he adjusts his grip on my wrists, and the cord must have been tighter than I thought, because it hurts. I haven't seen them yet, but they feel tender and are probably bruised. I wince at the sudden pain, all seeming to catch up to me from my time on my tiptoes.
Az'ralon releases his grip immediately. I'm surprised when he takes my hand in his, palm up, to examine the thick bruise around my wrist.
"You're hurt," he says, looking completely bewildered.
"Um, I'm not the one covered in blood," I say.
He glances down toward his legs and then back up to frown at me. "Are humans truly so delicate?"
I don't really know what to say to that, so I pull my hands back and hold them to my chest. "It's not so bad," I say after a minute. "But please don't do it again."
He's looking at my wrists again and he looks so...worried that I almost feel bad. Which is ridiculous, because he kidnapped me and tied me to a bed for like an hour. "No," he says, shaking his head and frowning again. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
It's the last thing I expect to hear, and I have no idea how to react, so I just take another step away and feel the bed behind me. I sit on the edge of it and look up at Az'ralon, and I'm surprised at how genuinely distressed he looks. Until now, he's been all barely-contained rage and not-at-all-contained lust. "It's fine," I say, and then I realize that maybe him feeling guilty can be a good thing for me. "Can you please, please tell me why I'm here?"
"I really don't understand why you insist on keeping up this act. I know what you are. You know that I know what you are. Why don't you just acknowledge it?"
"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," I say, and I'm faintly surprised when I end on a sob. Suddenly everything that's happened has all caught up with me, and I can't stop the stupid tears and hiccups that escape me. Really, though, I fell in the ocean, woke up in the dark, and have been groped and locked in a room all day by some guy who is clearly not human.
I think I deserve a little freak out.
Chapter 6
Az'ralon
I don't know what to do with Eve. She is not what I expected, and not what I'm used to handling. And I don't know why she won't admit that she's a witch sent to destroy me.
But she's crying, and for some reason that I can't begin to fathom, she's precious to me. As soon as I saw her, she was. As soon as I knew that she was more than just a dream. Which was undoubtedly by her--or her master's--design, but that doesn't matter to me now. What matters is that she's mine.
Which means that I must stop the crying. I drop to my knees, and with her seated on the bed, our faces are at the same height. "I believe you," I lie. "Ask me your questions."
She hiccups as she nods, and it takes almost a minute before her catching breaths and heaving chest slow down enough for her to talk. I study her as she collects herself. She's so small that her hands look tiny and delicate where she holds them against her chest. Her body is pleasingly curved though, and I can see a hint of it through the blanket that she wears around her. I saw it all, of course, when I stripped her of her sodden clothes, but having seen her unclo
thed doesn't make looking at her now any less pleasing. I can't stop myself from staring at her large, green eyes.
And I don't know what to do with her despite the fact that I know that she's here to destroy me. Because despite the fact that I know that I dreamed of her as part of the Council's plan, I am completely hers already.
Which won't do.
"Where am I?" she asks. She's calmer now, but her eyes are red and swollen, and her hands are still moving helplessly against her chest. She is as surprised as I am when I catch her hands between mine.
I will humor her. "Right now," I say, turning her hands palm up on mine so that I might examine the bruising on her wrists again, "you are in my bed chamber. It is located in the cavern called Poremi, in the realm of Vadit."
She looks at me with wide eyes, and I can see her chin quiver. "I don't know what any of that means," she says. "Am I...am I on Earth?"
I begin to shake my head, but then she looks so terrified that I nod instead. "In a sense," I say carefully. "Our world occupies the same physical space as yours, but we do not cross with yours. We are parallel."
She hiccups and takes a deep breath, and then releases it slowly. "What are you?" she asks, her cracking voice betraying her emotion.
"I am of the Yremy," I say. "That is my kind. But there are many different varieties of us here."
She nods. "Are you a demon?" she asks quietly.
I consider it. "Not quite," I say after a pause. "Not as you understand them. My kind lived alongside yours, centuries ago, and the collective memory of us has turned into myths for your people."
She pulls her hands back from mine and twists them together in her lap. "Are you..." she trails off. "Am I safe here? Are you going to hurt me?"
"No one here will hurt you," I say with a vehemence that surprises me, but I do mean it. She will not be harmed, and I will rip the head from the body of anyone who would say differently.