The Demon's Change

by Donna McDonald

  “Do you need to hear compliments, Sweet Joy? I would be happy to offer you as many as you need to hear,” Dorian said.

  “Maybe later. Right now I need something else. Tell me the history of your deities, Zade. That’s why I wanted this time alone with you. I figured it was the sort of discussion we should have in private.”

  Dorian lifted his head and stopped chewing in his surprise. He swallowed carefully, making sure he took plenty of time so he wouldn’t choke. “May I ask the reason for your sudden interest in spiritual matters?”

  Gwen blew out an exasperated breath as she sought calm words.

  “Some force outside my understanding is working on this ship. I want to know what they are, where they come from, and what they are doing here. Our mission isn’t to spread love and kindness everywhere we go. The warriors on this ship routinely kill, though we’re certainly not going around inciting unnecessary wars. So I’m trying to understand . . . ” Gwen paused, not sure how to finish. It was hard to ask for information when you couldn’t articulate the question.

  Dorian stared into his mate’s concerned gaze. “You’re trying to understand why the Creators would bother with our crew since there are more righteous beings in the universe as well as more dark-hearted ones? And if they were bored and looking for creatures to fix, why choose us?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly it,” Gwen said around a bite, “but I’m sorry my snarkiness is rubbing off on you. Cynicism doesn’t suit your nature. I’m trying to change my speech when we talk so you won’t feel the need to mirror my smart-ass comments.”

  Dorian laughed. She might be trying, but the effort was not very visible in her words.

  “Humility doesn’t suit yours, so don’t bother trying to filter your thoughts or questions. You have a perfect right to question my beliefs, whether as my mate or as a commander. Unfortunately, I have no answers to your questions. I don’t know why the Creators are so directly involved with us, but I often see evidence that proves they are.”

  Gwen ate a couple more bites before circling back to ask for information another way. “Okay. Then start from the beginning. If I was a child being taught your religious beliefs, what would you say to me first?”

  “Will you agree to hold your disdain in check enough to truly listen if I share this?” Dorian asked, ignoring her mildly offended expression as he finished his food.

  “Yes. I promise I will not let disdainful words leave my tongue. But now if you start reading my mind, I don’t want that held against me. That’s on you,” Gwen declared.

  “Agreed. A being’s thoughts about spirituality should remain their private business—or at least that’s been my position as a ship’s counselor.”

  He leaned back in his seat as he contemplated where to begin.

  “Many things about the Creators are a mystery. Many think them to be all-powerful. In my opinion, the Creators are not omnipotent, even though they often appear to be so. I think they use their amazing power for the greater good of more creatures than our minds can conceive of existing, much less caring for. The idea of an all-encompassing community is a concept that eludes most minds. We tend to only consider the needs of those who are closest to us, certainly no more than a few planets’ worth of beings.”

  “I certainly like thinking the Creators are not omnipotent,” Gwen said.

  “Are you sure you’re taking this in correctly?” Dorian demanded, noting his mate’s fleeting but guilty expression.

  “Yes. I’m taking it in correctly. Go on,” Gwen ordered.

  “There are many theories about the origins of the Creators. I choose to believe that in some distant time past, when the rules for sentience and physical matter were different, that they were corporeal beings like you and me. The true ‘deity’ goes unnoticed by most—if there is such a thing as a deity—because the Source of All isn’t a being. It is a sentient force within the universe which gives birth to all that is knowable. It is an energy source that is everywhere and part of everything. We are part of it. It is part of us. The Creators—each in their own way—serve the greater good of the Source. Because of the spread and reach of its essence, the Source is truly omniscient. I think connection to the essence is the means by which the Creators know what is needed.”

  Gwen paused in her food shoveling. “Okay, I got lost when you started describing a fourth player in this game, but I got that you call the ultimate one the ‘Source of All’. Don’t you find it hard to imagine something you claim is not physical could care so much about us who are physical? What’s in it for them? Try to dumb the woo-woo stuff down for me for the rest of this lesson if you can.”

  Dorian leaned forward, placing his chin in his hand as he met Gwen’s gaze across the table. He was tempted to remind his irreverent mate that she had promised to control her derision. He didn’t delve into that lecture only because her gaze showed enough confusion to have motivated her demand for clarity.

  “Okay. Let’s try analogies. The mythology of the Creators varies slightly from planet to planet, and even from culture to culture on each planet. Yet remarkably, all creatures seem to have at least one myth about them. The bottom line of that myth is that we are all connected to something divine. Pleiadians like Ania, who are the oldest and wisest of all known species, consider all myths to be just more proof that the Source of All exists. Not all Sirens believe these tenets, but the Sirens of Rylen believe the Creators became who they are when they merged with the Source. Sirens believe they made the ultimate sacrifice of their corporeality to save all life. We also believe they did so to forever be able to aid each being’s journey as they are born, live, and eventually return to the Source. Emissaries are less well studied. As the universe grew over time, it makes sense the Creators might have had to recruit help.”

  Gwen nodded as she put the cover back on top of her now empty plate. Then, fighting not to say anything about her mate’s watchful gaze, she reached over and did his as well. When their meal containers were stacked, she touched a button on her new wrist communicator and sent the signal for them to be picked up. The whole scene was very domestic and just the sort of thing Zade loved to catch her enjoying. At the moment though, instead of smiling arrogantly, he actually seemed more interested in their exchange. She considered it a small reprieve.

  “What kind of myths were you taught on Earth?” Dorian asked.

  Gwen shrugged as she relaxed back in her seat.

  “Earth has so many creation mythologies that I couldn’t list them all without a com unit. My mother is a monotheist, but I didn’t care for her concept of a supreme male being in control of pretty much everything in my life, including my reproduction capacities. Before Thelorius was destroyed, Cahir said that his people had begun praying to the deities of their ancestors in an effort to deflect the giant asteroid that finally wiped his native planet away. His grandfather thought the idea of overseeing deities was ludicrous, so he signed their family up for the best ship service contract he could get back then. My father was born on a ship and probably will die on one. He goes to planets only when necessary. Sometimes I wonder how my mother ever lured him to Earth with her. Cahir believes in only what can be corporeally known—period. I think I’m a lot like that.”

  Dorian nodded and smiled. “You and most others. Your view of matter as real and energy as only an aspect of matter is common. However, it is also limited. Even for those who believe as you do, there are many unexplained things you experience each day. Just because you don’t seek answers to resolve contradictions, doesn’t mean the questions aren’t important enough to be asked by someone curious about them.”

  Gwen nodded. “Okay. That’s fair. Tell me the rest of what you believe personally. I mean—isn’t this something I should probably know as your mate?”

  Dorian grinned. “My other two mates never cared about my Siren beliefs or what I personally thought of spiritual things. They only cared how I treated them. Does my spiritual energy setting really matter to you? My compassion is
yours regardless. That’s very linked to my corporeality, and I’d be happy to demonstrate the physicality of it later.”

  Her hand sent her short hair standing as she fidgeted in her seat. Zade wasn’t taking her seriously. He didn’t trust her to know his sincere feelings. She had probably brought that on herself and this discomfort was precisely why she hadn’t wanted an audience. His meditation room was his territory. Their quarters were a sanctuary away from their duties as far she was concerned. This dining space was at least neutral territory, and maybe the only place she felt she could ask her mate such sensitive questions without him taking her interest the wrong way.

  “Yes. Damn it—Dorian. I know my belief or non-belief won’t change our relationship. Which I guess is why it matters to me to hear what you really think. I want to know for all the reasons I mentioned concerning the ship and crew, but I also just want to know. Ania shares a lot of your spiritual beliefs. I think I should at least understand them if I possibly can. Plus, most of this crew thinks that messengers from the Creators are among us. That’s a really hard concept for me, but I still want to take it as seriously as I can.”

  It was rare that Gwen used his real name. When she did, it lowered the protective shields she kept around the deepest part of her spirit. He never, never took it lightly. He put his hand out across the table, palm up. His mate looked at it like it was something gross that she feared touching. Her disgusted glare almost made him laugh, but her fingers sliding across his chased the humor away.

  He knew spiritual matters made her nervous. Cahir had made sure there was no room in his daughter’s character for believing in anything but what she could track down and beat into submission. Yet he could see Gwen was struggling to develop an open mind for his sake—perhaps for Ania’s as well—maybe even for the crew. It was just one more reason why she truly was the perfect mate.

  “I believe that my true purpose as a corporeal creature is to live a happy life and foster the spiritual growth of every creature I meet. I consider that I do that to the best of my ability by serving as ship’s counselor. My biggest challenge in adhering to my beliefs is that my nature was shaped by a culture devoted to the penultimate self-serving pursuit of physical pleasure. Do you know why so many Siren males become warriors? It is to put themselves into balance. I was no exception. I still struggle with that balance every day. Females of my species handle the dichotomy of their energy split much better. They take up healing, learn crafts, entertain, and all manner of things to redirect the need to control externally what drives them crazy internally. As Sarinnea’s child, I am exceptionally restless. Keeping control over how I seek pleasure has been a lifelong struggle.”

  Gwen ran her fingers over his fingers. So her mate walked the same line she did, and maybe a little more intensely. Her Thelorian father had genetically gifted her nature with some self-control. Being a Greggor and a Siren, Zade’s parents gave him a double dose of carnal urges.

  Remembering his demands for control of her during their mating week gave his speech more credibility than he realized.

  Thinking about how reverent he was with her most of the time despite his inner fight helped her understand what kind of male he had made of himself.

  “Thank you for sharing your truth with me. I honor you and accept what you have told me. Can I ask you one more question? I promise this is the last one, and then I’ll put work away for the evening.”

  Dorian lifted her fingers to his lips for a kiss, nodding as he lowered their hands to the table again.

  “So what are the Creators? Energy beings like Malachi?” Gwen asked.

  “I think, yes. I envision them spread out in a mist-like cloud that stretches infinitively. I imagine that a tiny bit of that expansive energy is able to touch any being at any given point anywhere. The emissaries though seem to be more constrained, which is why I think they need a form to function where they have to be. Their energy seeks a host, much like Malachi’s energy does,” Dorian said.

  “Being Thelorian, I see energy as a physical thing anyway. From an energy perspective, hosting makes a hell of a lot of sense.”

  “But I cannot prove any of this, Gwen. What I have shared is just theories based on all my studies and what’s happened recently. You should ask Ania these questions as well. She may have a totally different opinion from mine.”

  Gwen shook her head slowly from side to side. “No. That’s okay. You’ve given me enough to think about for now, and I rather like letting you be my expert in this. At least thinking of the entities among us as energy beings that can be constrained makes them slightly less intimidating to me. We all accept that Malachi is real and can do some fairly amazing things, in or out of a host. What you believe about the emissaries is not much farther to go in extension. Right?”

  “Indeed it is not. You amaze me with your reasoning.”

  Gwen turned her face to kiss the palm that swept lovingly down over her cheek. “You continue to make me content to be the female in your life, Dorian Zade. Thanks for talking to me about this. She’asa.”

  “She’asa du mon, Sweet Joy.”

  “Come on. I’m ready for bed now. I’m very glad there’s a locking door between this room and our quarters,” Gwen said, tugging him until he stood with her.

  “I like to hear you say thank you in Siren. What other phrases have you learned in your studies?” Dorian asked. He bent to kiss the curve of her shoulder as she paused in the doorway of their room.

  The next string of words from her lips was a third variation of a Siren mate’s impassioned plea for sexual release. Instantly hard and hurting with the need to pleasure her, his control slipped as he grabbed the front of her shirt and lifted her mouth up to his mouth for a kiss. They both shivered when he let her go.

  “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he demanded.

  “No,” Gwen lied. “Maybe you need to show me.”

  She laughed at her own joke as she reached behind her sexy, groaning husband and secured the lock.

  Chapter 10

  Malachi had taught himself to enjoy the cleansing ritual he performed on his host body each day. Then afterward he gave himself the luxury of walking around his quarters without the restrictive clothing he was required to wear at all other times.

  Part of the emissary’s gift to him had been instant liberation from his host body without it suffering ill effects. A more unexpected part of that ability was that he had become physically sensitive to his body’s skin temperature. A coolness could elicit chills that he in turn actually felt. Warmth could beckon moisture to seep from his pores, sometimes so much so that he would feel compelled to repeat the cleansing process.

  Even the movements of his bonding organ when subjected to stimulating thoughts of females was growing more tactile to him. An insistent erection had become so annoying two sleep cycles ago that he’d had to emulate Warro’s actions and practice self-gratification to make it go away. The resulting mild pleasure was relieving enough to have him considering repeating the action every day.

  Yet it nagged at him that something vital had been missing from the physical relief. His first thought was that the relief would have been better if the stimulation had been done by a willing female. Yet as he ran through the list of females on the ship, none seemed worth the trouble he would no doubt encounter when he tried to coax them to perform the process for him. Besides, no female could be more proficient than he was at knowing what his host needed.

  No. What was missing was more complex than simple female participation.

  When he was in Ania, he had felt the emotional connection between her and Liam. It was especially strong during their bonding. Sharing it had contributed to a form of energy euphoria lasting several days. None of his male hosts had ever induced anything close to matching the experience. After much deliberation and research, he had decided the secret was in the depth of the female’s desire for her partner. It was Ania’s extreme longing for Liam that built the high resonance. Liam craved her
desire for him like a drug addict craves the next high.

  Before being hosted in Ania, he would have considered that craving to be another character flaw. In this case, he couldn’t fault his master for any specific weakness toward the Pleiadian female. Not when he was addicted to her himself. It was his deepest secret at the moment. If he could have snuck back inside Ania without her knowledge—or really any of the other mated females on the ship—he would have done so just to get some emotional relief. Unfortunately, Ania was angry at her mate and Liam had forbidden him to enter anyone else without permission.

  Since physical release by itself was such a poor substitute for that other, stronger connection, he started to wonder why Warro even bothered. His sympathy for the unmated Siren just kept growing and growing. Maybe it was because they both craved females that weren’t available.

  Malachi stepped to face the full-length mirror covering one door of a spacious clothes chest that his meager three sets of uniforms sorely failed to fill. Since his occupation of an otherwise uninhabited host body, he was back to being responsible for things corporeal beings had to take into consideration, like care of their clothing. He had certainly come to appreciate the wisdom of wearing tunics over his uniforms when tending to sick crew members. Not that uniforms were pleasant to wear, but clean was preferable. One day he planned to ask Dorian Zade where he’d gotten the outfits he’d loaned him for the Lotharius mission. The finer fabrics were much closer to the type of clothing Conor Synar had routinely worn.

  Of course, he had purposely built Conor’s body up past its former slender lines so he needed new clothes to fit his larger frame. Zade was still taller, but Liam had been adamant that he not attempt to change Conor’s body just because he envied the size of the very tall Siren. He had contented himself with muscle building instead, which is why the knock at his door didn’t stop him from taking time to flex his arms in the mirror. He enjoyed the body’s muscle growth even if the training workouts were tedious.