by L Shannon
Had he ever looked so young and vulnerable? How could a two-thousand-year-old demon look like that?
And in the end did any of it matter? Being apart from Tarvyn hurt on some deep level he didn’t quite understand. He wanted to believe Tarvyn. He wanted to accept this being for whatever he was.
He shifted ever so slightly and held out one arm toward the demon, his lover.
The motion was enough. Tarvyn filled his arms and pressed against his body.
He could never reject Tarvyn. Whatever kind of creature Tarvyn might be, to him the lad would be called lover.
“Are you all right with what I am?” His voice trembled with the question.
“Yes, Tarvyn. I am.” He kissed the blond waves on the top of Tarvyn’s head. “Is there anything else you are that I should know about?”
A sexy chuckle vibrated against his chest. “Well, now that you mention it…I am horny, and I don’t mean the ones I could carry on my head.”
Chapter Seven
“Holy shit,” Bailey whispered. He and Tarvyn were wrapped within the silky sheets on Tarvyn’s bed. They’d fallen asleep after a second, more relaxed and very playful, bout of sex. But what alarmed him was the intimidating shadow that filled the entrance to the chamber.
He’d awoken to the sense of being watched and then noticed the darkness.
“Wake up, Tarvyn.” He squeezed and shook Tarvyn’s shoulder.
“What is it?” Tarvyn mumbled as he snuggled deeper against his side.
“There is someone here.”
“Someone?” Tarvyn stretched, slowly turning his head toward the entrance. Then he began a frantic struggle to escape the bed and sheets. With an agile flip and elegant roll, Tarvyn righted his nude body in the center of the room, only to drop into a bow so low he might as well have laid on the floor.
Bailey leapt up, grabbing up his belt knife and the meager weapon it was. When the shadow and Tarvyn held their positions still, he pulled on his trousers and hurried to Tarvyn’s side. The moment he stepped up within reach, Tarvyn grabbed his hand and dragged him down beside him into an awkward, kneeling position.
Even though he couldn’t stand and had little hope of protecting himself from this new threat, he kept his gaze focused on the formless dark. As he watched, that shapeless mass darkened still more and grew solid, forming an enormous, demonic creature. Its black skin looked like shadows on a moonless night.
One black, scaly hand reached out toward them.
He didn’t know what intention guided the hand, but he wasn’t about to risk his or Tarvyn’s life to this unknown force. He raised his knife as if to ward off this villain.
Tarvyn’s hand caught his. “No, Bailey. Master, he does not understand.”
“Then you should educate him.” The demon’s voice rumbled so low it could be felt in the hard floor under his knee.
“I will see to it. Master Pahele, may I introduce m’anom, Bailey.”
“Captain Bailey.” The enormous beast held out his hand as if to shake hands in the welcome of old friends. The motion should have felt out of place, but Bailey rose and slid his hand into the creature’s firm grip. An overwhelming sense of power and something more buried him. Something calm and comforting...like peace.
Understanding flowed over him. This creature was ruler here, but so much more. He was more like a parent to these demons and would only harm them if forced to do so.
He shook his head. How had he heard those thoughts? No one had spoken and yet, he knew what he’d heard was the truth.
“Rise, Tarvyn,” the creature said. “You have much for which to account. Tread carefully, young one, for you have broken many laws risking us all to claim what you desire.”
“Master, I meant no harm.”
“You never do. Why did you bring the human here? You know his being here cannot be allowed.”
Tarvyn looked his way, and the weight of his gaze spoke volumes of what they hadn’t said during the long night. “I feared for his safety, Master.”
“If he was to die, then he must die. You cannot change the fate of a mortal just because you wish it.” Again those pearlescent eyes seemed to be asking for more than what was said in words.
“I could not bear to see him suffer such a fate. He is m’anom, and I would ask for pahtolan.”
“You know the risk, but does your lover?”
Tarvyn had expanded on what his brother had first spoken of. The pahtolan was a demon’s one chance to spend a lifetime with a soul mate. He’d never met anyone like Tarvyn before and, for a moment, had doubted the depth of what they could possibly feel for each other after so short a time together. But in the end, more time would only have confirmed what he had felt with their very first touch.
“I do understand,” Bailey said “We have discussed my chance to retrieve Tarvyn’s soul, and I will see to the duty.”
“Then we will go to the Hall of Souls now,” Pahele said. Smoke burst out around them, arriving and dissipating almost immediately.
As it cleared, Bailey found they were in a different chamber. By the look of the glossy black walls, he surmised it was somewhere in the royal wing. They had also changed position. Tarvyn knelt low on the floor, facing away from his master. The great demon now held a whip poised to strike at Tarvyn’s back.
“Wait!”
“Tarvyn must face his punishment for breaking our laws. His punishment will be whipping. The punishment will continue for as long as it takes you to retrieve his soul.” The ice-cold words were spoken without any emotion.
“But—”
The whip cracked down, cutting the air above Tarvyn’s bare back but leaving his skin untouched with this first stroke.
“Go through that entrance and find his soul. Tarvyn will await you, no matter how long the search takes, but he will await you in his suffering.”
The whip fell again, striking Tarvyn across his right shoulder blade. Tarvyn shuddered under the blow but held his position, waiting for the next.
“I love you, Tarvyn.” He touched his lover’s blond head as he passed by him and entered the Hall of Souls.
Chapter Eight
The mysterious hall was at first a great black hole of nothingness. He raised a hand before him and moved to his right, reaching for where the wall should have been, but finding nothing. He retreated toward the entrance and found only more darkness.
How could a hall have no walls or door and still hold all that he had to search for?
He knelt to touch the floor and get some grasp on his surroundings, but as his fingers moved past his feet, he discovered…there was no floor.
He fell. There was nothing to touch or hold. No way to halt his never-ending descent.
“Nooo!”
Bailey? Tarvyn’s lilting voice filled his mind and became his cornerstone, stopping his fall and helping him focus.
I can’t search what does not exist. Help me, Tarvyn.
I cannot help you in this duty. You must focus on what you want, and you will find it. Tarvyn was torn away with the suddenness of a cracking whip.
What had Tarvyn meant by the advice?
Bailey thought about what he’d experienced in the hall so far and had a suspicious thought.
He consciously thought about the smooth, hard floor under him, and felt the pressure pushing up at the bottoms of his feet. He knelt and reached his fingers out, focusing on the smooth texture of the marble found all through the royal wing, and that was what he felt.
The hall became what the seeker thought it should be.
He straightened and thought about what he wanted.
A voice crying out in pain sent Bailey’s heart pounding. While he played games with the hall, Tarvyn was being whipped for saving his life. He didn’t have time for this nonsense.
He wanted to get on with the search. A thousand torches flared to life, each one anchored into braces set into the walls. He began down the long hallway. Every few paces along the hall stood a wooden door. He opened the
first and found a chamber much like Tarvyn’s, but obviously not his.
It would make sense if Tarvyn’s soul was in his room, or rather in an imitation of his room. But how would he find it among all the other rooms? He moved on to the next door, and then the next, opening each and looking inside for Tarvyn’s familiar chamber.
Another cry of pain sounded down the hallway.
“Tarvyn!” He ran down the hall, flinging doors open finding only strange rooms.
Another cry came from behind a door to his right. Bailey grabbed the handle and pushed, but the door held closed, barring the entrance. He had to get in. He fought the door and still couldn’t force it open.
A whimper of pain from inside that room nearly tore out Bailey’s heart. He had to get in, save Tarvyn’s soul, and stop the punishment that wasn’t even deserved.
He pounded on the door, ran his shoulder into the unmoving wood, but nothing worked.
This place made no sense. Why would it show him where to find Tarvyn’s soul and then keep him from getting to it?
What if it were like the rest of the hall…? Was it his own thoughts that kept the door locked? Would it let him in if he expected to be let in?
He shook his head. It made no sense, but he’d try anything to save Tarvyn. He reached out for the door once more. This time he slid his hand over the cool wood and reached for the handle with one thought. Tarvyn’s soul was inside, and he was about to collect it and return to stop the whipping.
The door opened with no urging. It just eased away from his hand, swinging inward, revealing Tarvyn’s familiar chamber.
But what would a soul look like?
The soul was here, but how would he find it? How would he touch it, hold it, carry it?
He looked around the room, but nothing seemed out of place. The room looked just as they’d left it when the demon lord had awakened them. The bed was still rumpled from their lovemaking. The silk scarves were still draped on the bed. The pale blue scarf drew his gaze where it was bound to the bedpost.
Bound like Tarvyn seemed to enjoy so very much.
He couldn’t help remembering the feel of that silk as it ran over his skin during Tarvyn’s foreplay and then again later, when he’d used that same sleek material to blindfold Tarvyn. Once he’d had him helpless, he’d knelt beside Tarvyn and taken his time tasting and teasing his lover’s body until Tarvyn had pleaded to climax. Only then had he taken Tarvyn’s silken flesh into his mouth and offered that release.
He dragged his gaze from the bed, moving slowly around the room, touching various things and trying to imagine what kind of container might hold a soul.
But nothing felt right.
Was he wrong about the soul being here within the room? What if it was somewhere else in the hall? What if he never found it? Would Tarvyn’s punishment continue forever, or would he be sent back to his duties?
Never mind that he couldn’t leave this place without Tarvyn’s soul.
No, it had to be here in the chamber. He knew Tarvyn. He should know his lover’s soul.
That was what this test was all about. If he knew his lover’s soul, then they would be freed to build a life together. And if he didn’t, they would both be punished.
He knew Tarvyn.
He stopped wandering around the small room. Pushing everything else out of his mind, he thought only of Tarvyn. The last he’d seen him had been kneeling with his pale blond head bowed. He wished to look into those gorgeous blue eyes one more time. No, not once but a million times. The bright ever-changing blue…
Like the scarf.
It was the exact color of Tarvyn’s eyes. The blue looked like his human eyes at first glance, then it caught the light and glistened with the shine of his more demonic irises. It also seemed so much, so close to Tarvyn’s passionate nature.
He reached out and touched the silk.
The moment he fingers brushed it, a shiver of pleasure jumped over his skin and a happy cry filled his mind.
The silken scarf was Tarvyn’s soul.
Chapter Nine
Tarvyn knelt at his master’s feet and prayed. Why had he asked Bailey to go into the hall? There was no way that a vacation was worth Bailey’s life.
The whip fell hard over his back, stealing his breath in a flash of fire. Pahele’s voice followed and offered him the strength to continue. “You would have had to give him up if he had not gone into the Hall.”
“But what will he be forced to give up because he was brave enough to walk those dark halls?”
“He will give up only what he is willing to live without. Don’t disparage his sacrifice with you fears.” There was deep respect in his Master’s tone.
He looked up to meet Pahele’s gaze. “I don’t want him hurt.”
“Your love is an honest one. He won’t be harmed by your affection.” Pahele motioned him back into position with his whip.
But that didn’t mean that Bailey wouldn’t be harmed by what lurked within the Hall of Souls. He knelt again, dropping his face onto his crossed arms, and waited for the blow to fall.
The air swished with the whip’s motion, and then it landed, biting into his back, cutting a flash of pain so bright it pushed out all other thoughts. He concentrated on breathing in and out while the pain subsided and his flesh knit back together.
“Do you know why you are being whipped?”
“Because I broke a sacred Tascryn law. I brought a mortal to our land.” He accepted this justice for his crimes, but he didn’t particularly wish to discuss it.
“No. That is not such a great crime. It has been done too many times to truly be punishable by flesh.” Pahele spoke quietly. “You are being whipped to force your soul to cry out and become a beacon for your lover.”
“Oh!” The true kindness of what Pahele offered gave him hope. He’d known too many who had died or been lost in the Hall of Souls to believe in his and Bailey’s chances of a happy outcome. But now… Now it seemed Bailey had a good chance of returning with his soul.
And as that thought crossed his mind, he felt a subtle change in the room.
“Tarvyn?” a familiar voice asked.
He leapt to his feet and ran into his lover’s arms. “Thank the Creator.” Bailey felt so good in his embrace. All the pain from the whipping was more than worth this happy reunion. He tried to express how worried he’d been, but instead, tears prickled his eyes and he simply clung to Bailey.
“It’s all right, Tarv. I’m back now.” Bailey made no effort to release him, seeming to understand his need to touch and be touched.
Pahele caught Tarvyn’s shoulders and pulled him back. “Congratulations on your return. You are blessed to have found each other. It would be wise of you to complete the ceremony immediately.”
“What do I need to do?” Bailey caught Tarvyn’s hand.
“You must offer Tarvyn his soul. Only then will the Creator offer his blessing and see to it that Tarvyn will have full control and not be troubled by the Soul Madness, which can take some of the Tascryn when they recover their souls after so long without.”
Bailey turned to face him once more. The skin where their hands touched warmed and brightened to a visible glow. Bailey leaned into him and brushed their lips together with the lightest of kisses.
“Tarvyn, I don’t know what the future holds for us, but I want us to be together. Whether that can happen or not, I want you to have your soul.” Bailey lifted a glowing blue scarf in his other hand and offered it to him.
As he reached out and touched the scarf, the bluish glow spread over their hands and then, in a burst of light, flooded out over them both, covering them in warm acceptance and the promise of happiness.
The Creator blessed them and their union.
“You have a precious gift. Now all that remains is for you to right your mistakes, and then go out and find your happiness in the world.”
“Master?” What mistakes did he mean?
“You left the mortal world with a soul which
was not ready to be tasced, and you did so under the eye of those who should not have seen your passing through realms. You cannot begin your pahtolan until you have made that time pass as it should have.”
“I don’t understand.” And yet he had a terrible feeling he did know what was coming.
“You will go back to the moment you left Mitgard, and you will find a way out that does not compromise the beliefs of those you have been with.”
“But Bailey will be stoned…” His heart pounded. Surely his master wouldn’t force him to give up love so soon after finding it. He couldn’t do it. But if he was ordered, then they would have no choice. No one could go against Pahele’s powers and prevail.
Pahele offered him a black stare that gave nothing away. “There is another way. But you may have to make difficult choices.”
“I will leave you to make plans. You have one hour.” With that, Pahele faded from the room, using his awesome powers to see to other duties.
“So we have to go back,” Bailey said.
“Yes.” Thinking back to the dire situation from which they had fled filled him with despair. How could they get out of it?
Bailey shook his head. “I don’t know what we can do to get free or even what will be allowed. Do you have any thoughts?”
“It can’t be hopeless. There must be some way or else Pahele wouldn’t bother sending us back.” Or at least the master would not have sent them both back. Bailey, being human, would have returned alone, to die alone.
Instead, Pahele was sending them back together.
“I don’t know, but whatever we do will have to leave you free. I don’t think they can kill me, and I’m not willing to see if they will try to harm you again.” He trailed his fingers over Bailey’s jaw. How had he ever become lucky enough to find him?
Bailey leaned forward, resting their foreheads together. “I won’t leave you just to save my own skin.”
