by Bea Biddle
"Not quite," Cef growled, he managed to raise his leg enough to knee Tamas in the gut, he fell backward and lost his grip. Cef took advantage of the moment and kicked him again, jumped up and banged Tamas' head into the container. Tamas collapsed on the dirty wet ground and Cef stood back. He should kill him. Every fiber of his body pulsated with the need to kill. His muscles trembled with anticipation. Perhaps the humans had turned a weakling out of him because he found he couldn't. This was Tamas. His enemy. But he had been a friend. He had trained him, he had shaped and molded this Demon from childhood to be his second in command, to be his right hand.
Tamas turned his head to Cef, blood cascaded down his nose and mouth. But instead of cowering like Cef wanted him too he laughed again, this time a deep, spiteful laugh, blood splattered on the ground and spittle ran down his chin. His body shook as he raised himself up. Knowing the challenge it issued. "Leave, Tamas, leave this place and leave me," Cef bellowed at him. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he tried keeping himself calm. No matter his good intentions, no matter how he had used to care for Tamas, he wanted to taste blood and Tamas would do if he didn't run. The old beast roared inside him, and Cef tensed, the snarl on his face making Tamas grin.
"Yes!” Tamas yelled triumphantly, “Now I recognize you. How wonderful. I was hoping to meet the old Ceftion again."
Cef didn't bother answering. Neither expected it. They charged, setting off in a flurry of trash and dust and rain. Fists flying from both sides, easily blocked. Cef could feel it, it was like they were back on the training grounds fighting for fun, fighting for dominance. It had been over thirty years, but they found themselves back in old routines, reading each other like old comrades. But this time it wasn't for fun.
Cef spun Tamas around and locked him in place with his arms on his back, he had done the same many times before, it was a lock Tamas couldn't get out of. Tamas should have expected it. He pressed down on his arms and got a satisfying groan of pain from his opponent. "Where is the rift?" he demanded, "Where do you get through?"
"Join us, Cef," was Tamas raspy reply. Cef pressed even harder on his arms and Tamas growled loudly.
"Where is it?" he demanded again.
Tamas grunted and spat on the ground as a reply. Cef was about to put even more pressure on him but quick as a flash, Tamas pushed himself upwards and twisted out of Cef's grip, the back of his skull connected with Cef's jaw. Cef stumbled backward. Tamas laughed. "That is right, Cef, I have learned a thing or two while you have been gone," he gloated, "And you have not sparred in a while, I can tell.”
Cef didn't listen, didn't take the bait. He charged at him again. Tamas didn't move, he reached inside his coat and pulled out the thick, long sword that made Cef stop in his tracks. The black blade shone red in the sparse light, the metal singed the air, hummed as he swung it experimentally a few times. A Demon blade. Cef should have known, should have checked him, should not have let him draw on him.
Even though Tamas was breathing heavily he was still grinning like a maniac. He lifted the sword to attack, sliced out after Cef, charging at him with wild, wide thrusts, like a madman. Cef dodged, jumping back, ducking. Tamas had always been dangerous with his fists, he was strong, he was mean, but with weapons he lacked technique and Cef was quick to wrestle the sword out of his hands.
Tamas sighed in relief. It made Cef uneasy. "I was hoping you would do that," Tamas confessed, the damn grin never leaving his face. It was getting under Cef's skin. He wanted to cut it off of him. Slowly. Tamas reached under his coat once more and pulled out another sword. "I have been missing this."
The swords danced in a blur, the sound of metal against metal rang out in the alleyway, again and again, faster and faster. Sparks flew around them, the heavy rain not able to curtail them. Cef grunted with the effort, sweat mixed with rain flooded his vision. Tamas was stronger than he remembered, faster, better. He was right, it had been too long since he sparred. He was out of touch, all his experience fading away. Cef had made the mistake of being surprised, Tamas took full advantage of the moment. He punched Cef in the face, spun around the back of him and lifted his weapon to slice through his exposed throat.
Just in time, Cef drew up his own sword and blocked him. The clang of swords meeting again echoed against the tall brick walls, it rang in Cef's ears. And then silence. Only the steady downpour breaking the tension. They stood, panting and shaking, waiting for one of them to run out of strength.
"I have to applaud you for that," Tamas grunted in Cef's ear, "I did not see that one coming."
Cef didn't answer, he was on the losing end, the sword was coming closer. He had to do something. He opened his mouth and bit down on Tamas' arm hard. Blood ran down Cef's chin. It was a cowardly move, he knew that, but he was out of options. Tamas' sharp intake of breath was music in Cef's ears, his grip loosened, only a little out of shock, and Cef hammered the back of his head against Tamas' nose. He heard the familiar sound of bone breaking and took great pleasure in it.
He tore Tamas' arms off him, spun around and lifted his sword, ready to slice Tamas in half. Tamas blocked, stumbling backward. Blocked and blocked again. Positions had changed. Power had shifted. Cef roared over the wind. Blood rushed viciously through his veins, thundering in his ears.
Tamas sliced through the air desperately, growling in anger and frustration. But Cef was faster, he caught Tamas' wrist in his hand before he could make contact with his weapon, and headbutted him, Cef's horns hammered into his forehead with such force Tamas fell backward and his blade clanged on the pavement. He landed against the brickworks, crashing into the wall, bricks cascaded down on him.
Tamas fumbled for the sword, grabbing hold of the hilt. But Cef stomped his boot down on his arm, stopping him from raising it. He roared in victory as he lifted his own blade, ready to end his enemy. There was nothing between them anymore. There was no Tamas. There was no Cef. There was just battle, just pure, raw adrenaline and impending doom or magnificent victory. Death or Glory. Demon against Demon.
But the world crashed into him again, reality pushed through, when Tamas looked up at him from the ground. Blood, so much blood, it ran from gashes on his forehead, his battered nose, from his chest. His eyes, his golden eyes that Cef had known a lifetime ago, met his own. They pleaded with him, the eyes of his old student, waiting for his punishment to be over. Cef hesitated again. And that was a mistake.
It took only a moment for Tamas to kick his shin, kicking Cef's legs out from under him. Cef stumbled, catching himself before he fell but lost his focus. The brick Tamas hurled at him caught him just below his eye, making him hiss and growl in fury as he lumbered back. Blinking the pain away, his vision choppy. It took a moment to return to normal, but when it did Tamas was gone. There was no trace of the other Demon in the alley, only Cef.
Cef was furious. The battle still raged in his body. His heart pounded, his blood pumping at a dangerous pace. His breath came in ragged huffs. He roared loudly in frustration and rage. The battle was only half over and his enemy had disappeared.
And it was his damn fault. He kicked the large, metal container, denting it again. It was his fault. He had hesitated. He had grown weak. He should have killed him, he should have ended this. He picked up the blade Tamas had discarded, bundling the two Demon swords up and hiding them under his coat, then he made his escape from the scene. He ran down streets, the most crowded ones, the ones full of nightlife, trying to mingle his scent with that of the humans. Making sure no Demons followed him. Tamas was still out there, and so were his soldiers.
✽✽✽
Cef slammed his apartment door shut after him. Bloodlust still surged through him. He had to clear his head. Something inside of him had clicked during the fight. He had tasted his old self, felt the rage in his veins. He had liked it. He had tasted blood and he wanted more, he had wanted to crush Tamas' skull between his bare hands. But he couldn't be this animal, he was better than that. He slammed his fists onto the kitchen table
before tearing the cups there onto the floor, smashing them into pieces. Damn, those were his last ones, he would have to get more.
He threw his wet coat on the floor next to his muddy boots, pulling his shirt over his head he stalked to the bathroom, sneering at his reflection. Split lip, a bruised eye, dried blood caked here and there. He tied his dreads to the back of his head and turned on the tap, washing off his face. He glanced at his lip, if Karen was there, she would tell him he needed stitches. He would tell her to mind her own damn business. Then she would scoff at him but continue telling him what to do anyway. That's what she'd do, she wouldn't care that he was a Demon, far bigger and more powerful than her, she'd continue to boss him around.
He groaned at the thought of her. He tried breathing slowly, he still felt the surge of bloodlust running through his body. No, not bloodlust, just lust. He wanted her, he wanted Karen. Fighting with Tamas had woken something in him, the old beast had poked its ugly head out and he had a hard time taming it.
He imagined Karen there, standing beside him, she would run her hands down his arm and across his chest. Her fingertips caressing every trembling muscle of his. But he wouldn't care to play games, he wouldn't waste time. She'd be pressed up against him before she even knew what was happening. Her lips parted to receive his hungry kisses. His hands would travel everywhere, her neck, her shoulders, her back, all the way down cupping her ass in his hands, molding it with his touch. His tongue would be tasting her to the point of breathlessness, only then would he let them part. But not for long. He would pull her against his body, lift her up. She would wrap her legs around his waist as he walked them to the bed. He had no time to bother with clothes, she would be naked when he let her fall back on the mattress.
He would be on her straight away, not a second wasted, he would take her. She would be moaning his name and scratching his back, he would make sure of that. He imagined her writhing beneath him, whimpering and whining as he rode her, with her eyes fluttering as she cried out in complete, sweet surrender. She would be nearing her climax. He heard himself mutter her name as his own release pressed on. Then he would flip her onto her front, her knees on the bed, her head buried in his pillow. One hand tangled in her black hair, the other on her back, holding her steady. By then she would be screaming his name, muffled only by the pillow. He would make her do that, make her scream his name. He would take her harder, claim her as only a Demon could, make sure she knew who she belonged to. "Karen," he groaned, then he could hold on no longer. He spilled himself onto his stomach.
He was on his back in his bed, his pants around his ankles when he opened his eyes, not sure when that had happened, but he didn't care.
Lying there panting, he felt exposed. He hadn't meant to call out her name. Saying her name out loud had made it more real, everything he had been trying to suppress all spilled into his conscience. He couldn't take it. He had to see her. He was shaking with the need to feel her, to claim her. He quickly got up, cleaned himself off, and got dressed again. She must be at the diner still. There was no denying it anymore. He wanted her, human or not, she had to be his.
✽✽✽
"For fuck's sake," Karen muttered to herself, "Learn to fucking eat." She wiped down the surface, trying hard to get the last blood off the table. Some Weres just had no table manners, it was getting ridiculous. She was absolutely sure some Weres just used their condition as an excuse to eat like pigs. It wasn't transformation week yet and still, some of them refused to use cutlery.
The night had been uneventful. Cef showing up before work had gotten her hopes up for him to come back, but her shift was almost over and still no Cef. She checked her phone, ten past five. The breakfast rush would be coming in soon. But for now, there were only a couple of tables with Vamps that didn't need any attention from her yet, and a couple of Weres who came in for a very early breakfast. They at least used cutlery. Sighing she stuffed her phone back in her pocket. Cef wouldn't come. Especially with the weather beating on the windows like that. Rain, rain and more rain, all fucking night long.
"Cheer up," Sylvester offered from behind the counter when Karen approached him. Karen shrugged at him. "Ah, one of those days?" he asked and laughed at her. She hadn't told him about Cef, she hadn't even mentioned Garth. Perhaps she should have, but she knew he would want to talk to her about it and really, all she wanted to do was forget it. Sylvester walked around the counter, his long fingers found her shoulders and started massaging them lightly. She leaned into his touch, she couldn't help it, it was too good. "If you like this, I know something that'll definitely put a smile on your face again," he drawled in her ear and pressed her back against his chest, massaging further down her arms. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the little break from serving tables. "Something a lot more fun than cleaning," he continued in a whisper.
It took her a second to realize what he was talking about and snapped out of her trance. "Sly," she said sternly and pushed him away. "You're horrible," she scolded him, shook her head and laughed.
"What do you want from me?" he said pretending to be hurt. "I'm just a Vamp. It's my nature." He shrugged then sipped his blood. "Besides, I thought you told me you are no longer attached."
"That doesn't mean I'm going to jump into bed with the first and the best," Karen said and sighed. She knew exactly who she wanted to jump into bed with but that was obviously not going to happen.
Sylvester shrugged again. "I never said I needed to be the first, but I'd let you find out that I am most definitely the best."
"Wow, I feel dirty just talking to you," she said and rubbed her forehead. "I just wish something would happen," she breathed, not wanting to tell him exactly what she hoped would happen. Cef. She hoped Cef would happen. She hoped he would show up and be the version of himself that she had seen earlier. He would show up, smile that crooked but devastatingly sexy smile at her, his eyes would darken when he did, just like they had done earlier that day. She would lick her lips expectantly but flutter her eyelashes innocently, just like they did in movies. He would be ignoring anyone else in the diner, walk straight to her. And he would kiss her, deeply, thoroughly. She would be getting weak at the knees, his strong arms would support her, lift her. She would cling to him, wrap herself around him as he would charge them through the kitchen doors.
He would push her up against the wall, still kissing her breathless. Pete's radio would be playing something slow, something terribly sexy. Cef's coat would be left on the kitchen floor, so would her shirt, and his hands would burn their way across her skin. They would somehow make it down the stairs to the blood cellar, their clothes disappearing on the way and she would finally touch and feel her way all over his beautiful chest, his impressive shoulders and broad back. He would kiss her everywhere, taste her, nibble her overheated flesh and she would moan and writhe against him, begging him. He would comply, push her up against the cold brick wall, her legs would wrap around his waist. He would be rough, she decided quickly, he would be gloriously rough and wonderful, his calloused fingertips sending jolts of electricity through her every time he crushed her to him. He would be eager, impatient in the best way. He would waste no time, with one swift thrust his large, rock hard...
"You mean like that?" Sylvester asked, interrupting her daydream.
“Yes," she whispered in a half moan, her heart hammering in her throat. "Oh, yes, just like... Wait, what?" Karen blinked a couple of times, unclenched the rag in her hands she had been wringing so tightly her fingers were turning white. It took her a moment to focus, a moment for her breath to return to normal. She coughed, focusing on Sylvester and the direction his glass was pointing and saw what he meant. She groaned. No. Not like that. Definitely nothing like that. A man's face, pressed against the window, was trying to look through. When he saw nothing much through the greasy glass he stumbled inside. "Colin?"
"Karen," he breathed out in relief when he saw her standing there and quickly made his way to her. He tried leaning in for a quick hug, but
she stood stiff and unresponsive, completely in shock at seeing him at her workplace. Instead, he took her hand and squeezed it. "Karen," he began, "I have been an ass, a complete and utter ass. Please, you have to give me a second chance. I'm begging you."
“Colin," she whispered harshly, "What the fuck? What are you doing here?" Customers were noticing him, few began whispering. Oh no, no, this was not what she wanted, this attention was not what she wanted. "Let go of me." She pulled her hand out of his grasp, but he immediately snatched it back, pressing it to his chest. "What are you doing here? At this hour?"
“I couldn't sleep. I couldn't stay away any longer. Look, I'm a mess without you, you must let me come back, Karen," he begged, "I love you, you still love me, I know you do. Give me another chance." A mess? He didn't look a mess, he looked exactly as well-groomed and rested as he always did.
"Colin, get out of here," Karen hissed, looking around she saw Sylvester's disapproving scowl, unimpressed by the situation. "Colin, please, I can't have huma- people over at my work, leave now!"
"Karen." Sylvester's warning look had said it already, but he continued anyway, "Get him out of here. Now."
Karen tore her hand away from Colin and pushed him towards the door. "Please, Colin, we can talk some other time, but not here. Get out."
"What the hell is that?" Colin said and pointed to the raw meat a Were was hungrily stuffing down. "Is that raw?"
"Yeah," Karen said and nodded furiously, continuing to push him towards the door, "It's uhm, uh, Colin, haven't you ever heard of steak tartare? It's the newest... latest... fad... diet... thing." Yeah, that'll work. "It's a delicious delicacy, and people just can't get enough."