Demon Mine

by Marina Simcoe

  “Look at me,” he repeated when my eyes drifted off to the ceiling in ecstasy. “Please, look at me…” he begged. I looked back into his eyes, his gorgeous, intense blue eyes… There were open wide now, and the sense of a pure delight and wonder swam inside of them. It was beautiful, so beautiful, I couldn’t stop the happy smile curving my lips just before the orgasm hit me with a strength and intensity I had never felt before. I lurched in restraints with a series of sharp screams escaping me as a complete bliss washed over me in powerful, almost unbearable, surges. His fingers slipped out of me, but the palm of his hand was still cupping me, massaging me slightly in slow circles of firm pressure, milking every single spasm of my never-ending climax.

  I felt completely exhausted now and so absolutely wonderfully satisfied. I clung to the happy feeling of contentment with all I had, refusing to return back to the reality. My head dropped to his shoulder when I noticed a movement out of the corner of my eyes.

  I lifted my head and met the dazzling blue eyes of the olive-skinned man approaching me now. The look of him startled me. He had a serene, beautiful face that could have been the face of an angel if it wasn’t for the ice-cold look in his eyes. A chill ran down my spine, immediately erasing any lingering feeling of warm comfort I had. He came closer to me, so close that I could now see the strange orange-red glow deep inside his eyes as he stared at me with hunger.

  Reluctantly, Sytrius let go of me and moved to the side. I leaned after him, not believing that he was leaving me one on one with the man, who looked at me like a predator would at a cornered prey. Whatever his intentions were, they couldn’t possibly be good for me.

  Without saying a word, he raised his hand and reached for my face. I shrunk away from him, turning my face to the side, and saw Sytrius standing on the other side of me. He didn’t go far, he was barely two feet away from me. With arms rigid at his sides, he held his eyes locked on the stranger’s hand moving towards my face.

  I felt the cool skin of the man’s hand cupping the side of my face and saw Sytrius’s eyes narrow before the cold tingling sensation hit the skin of my cheek. It reminded me of the chill I felt when Sytrius touched me with his bare hand that morning. Only this time, it didn’t stop almost as soon as it started.

  The man kept his hand at my face, which I had pressed to the cross as far away from him as I could. The numbing chill spread further down my body and reached into my chest.

  I looked at Sytrius, desperately searching for his eyes, but they remained on the man’s hand at my face. I managed to open my mouth in an attempt to call his name, but the sound never came.

  The ice-cold realization crept into my mind at the same time as the freezing sensation gripped my heart in a vise-like hold: Sytrius would not save me. No one would save me now. I didn’t know what was happening to me, and I didn’t understand the purpose of any of it.

  I was certain about one thing only before any thought left me and the darkness enveloped my mind: I was all alone against all of them, and I never stood a chance…

  Chapter Eleven. Leaving.

  Sytrius kept his gaze glued to the hand of his Grand Master pressed to Alyssa’s face. From the corner of his eye, he saw her body slump limply, held only by the handcuffs. His eyes narrowed and his hands clenched into fists as he kept his senses on the dwindling light of her life force.

  The decision to fight came to him immediately and resolutely as soon as he saw Grand Master reach for Alyssa. The reason was simple: he could not watch them drain her.

  He had glimpsed the true light of life inside of her. He got to know her better than he had ever known anyone, demon or human, during the long lonely centuries of his existence. He was drawn to her more than he thought was possible for a demon to be drawn to a source of nourishment. She became the ray of sunshine in his grey monotonous days. He looked forward to seeing her every day, hearing her talk, waiting for the rare smiles that would light up her whole face with happiness, even if just for a short glorious moment.

  More than anything, he got addicted to her feelings for him: the warm timid affection, the cozy feeling of comfort and familiarity, the magnificent intoxicating lust. The feelings were created inside of her for him and him only. They were not just tempting and delicious, they made him feel like he mattered.

  With her, he was no longer just one of many, constantly struggling to make it through the day, fighting the thick fog of hunger and pain with no real purpose. With her, he was the man, whose mere presence made a woman happier.

  Everything, even the hunger, moved away when Alyssa was with him. She woke urges and desires in him that had lain dormant for centuries. He was no longer drawn to her like a demon to a Source; he wanted her like a man wanted a woman.

  It confused and excited him, even scared him at times, but he didn’t want to stop feeling this way. He did not want to lose the only ray of light he had.

  It should have surprised him how easily he abandoned the century and a half of the loyal service to this Council and how ready he was to defy his Grand Master. It would have surprised him if he possibly had the time and the energy to think about it; as it was, however, he focused all he had on the hand touching Alyssa’s soft cheek and on the tiny little glow of life still remaining inside of her.

  He was a great warrior and he would fight for her without reservations. Yet, he had no doubt that he would lose the fight. Despite his outstanding skills and technique perfected during the centuries of wars, he was half-starved and too weak to stand a chance against the thirteen much better fed incubi of the Council. He would lose. He would then be sentenced and sent to suffer in Inferno for decades… or more likely for centuries.

  At the very least, he would not have to watch her being drained and he would not have to cover her lifeless face with frozen dirt and snow. Somehow this alone made his sacrifice worth it.

  Of course with him detained, Alyssa would still be killed. This was the reason why he waited until the very last minute. As long as there was still life left in her, he waited…

  His body tensed like a tightly wound spring, ready to unfurl at any moment. A mere fraction of a second before he was ready to jump into fight, Grand Master finally removed his hand from Alyssa’s face.

  Sytrius was afraid to breathe in relief. He carefully scanned her to make sure the little spark of life was still there.

  Grand Master opened his eyes, now glowing with bright red light of Alyssa’s energy, and looked at her unconscious body.

  “Delectable,” he said softly and exhaled a deep satisfied breath.

  He then fixed his eyes on Sytrius.

  “Remarkable. You got her to respond to you after all, Handler.” He paused, still looking closely at Sytrius, as if searching for something. “Bring her again soon. Give her a couple of days to recover and bring her again.”

  Sytrius lowered his head in agreement, still afraid to believe that Alyssa would actually survive the night and too relieved to care about why Grand Master did not drain her right here, right now.

  Maybe the Council was satisfied enough after draining the Source last night, and their hunger was easier to resist tonight; maybe Grand Master prudently decided not to terminate two Sources consecutively, taking into the consideration how scarce the Sources were to begin with; maybe the Council wanted to wait until a replacement arrived, to avoid food shortages in between… Maybe Alyssa’s fate was not only to survive tonight; maybe she was to be kept alive for days and even weeks?

  All of it felt irrelevant to Sytrius now. He had no control in this place. He could not keep her safe, and as long as she remained here, she could be taken away from him. She could be killed.

  His whole being protested the thought of her imminent death. The ‘All Humans Die’ statement just made him angry now. He didn’t deny that she was mortal. He just refused to accept her immediate death and felt compelled to do everything he could to postpone it for as long as he could. The need to keep her safe took over all of his senses, guiding his actions now.


  He waited motionless as the members of the Council exited the room and only then looked at Alyssa.

  The light of her life force was so faint that even he, who knew her better than anyone on the base and who scanned her emotions multiple times a day, could barely sense it. Slowly, an idea emerged and took shape through the permanent fog clouding his brain: he could keep Alyssa safe; he could get her away from them.

  He rushed to Alyssa, impatient to release her from the restraints now. He rubbed the red marks left around her wrists by the restraints, despite the padding. Thankfully the skin wasn’t broken but the marks would have still hurt if Alyssa were awake. Once she was fully free from the restraints, he lifted her up and carried her out of the room, fully intending for her to never return here again.

  Once it appeared, the decision of taking her out of the base only took hold more firmly. His movements now were certain and efficient. Hugging her to his chest gently, he didn’t even bother to go to her cell. Instead, he picked up his parka and headed straight to the infirmary where he gently placed Alyssa on the narrow bed by the wall.

  With the freezing temperatures outside, she needed warm clothes.

  He opened one of the cabinets in the room and took out a pair of flannel pajamas from the top of the stack kept there for ill Sources. It was the best he could find for her at the moment, but he would have to get her better clothes later. He carefully pulled the pajama pants over her naked legs and then threaded her limp arms through the long sleeves of the shirt before buttoning the big metal buttons in the front. He then wrapped her into the grey cotton blanket from the bed and lowered her into the duffel bag, the same bag he used to carry the dead body of the Source last night.

  The chill of the comparison ran along his spine, and he chased it away by scanning for Alyssa’s life energy again. He brushed a lock of her hair from her forehead before closing the zipper of the duffel over her face. It didn’t feel right to zip her in like that, as if she was, indeed, just a dead body already.

  “Sorry,” he whispered, as if she could hear him. “I have to do this.” He lifted the duffel bag by the handles and heaved it over his shoulder then walked along the long corridors towards the exit from the main base building.

  “What do you have there, Handler?” asked the Soldier at the entrance, tipping his chin at the bag. Sytrius wasn’t sure if it was the same Soldier who was here last night and decided not to mention the dead body from yesterday. Two dead Sources in two days were not extraordinary, but still unusual. No need to bring any extra attention to himself.

  “A dead body.” He hoped his voice sounded more bored than gruff and hostile. “A Source was drained today…”

  “You’ll need to do the paperwork, you know.”

  “Yes. I’ll do it in the morning.”

  The guard pushed a button behind the barrier to open the door. A strong gust of wind and snow blasted through the open door into the building, giving him another idea.

  “Can you let the Soldier at the gatehouse know I’ll be leaving? My name is Sytrius,” he asked the guard at the door before stepping into the cold and snowy night outside. “I don’t want to get out of the truck in this weather.”

  He saw the Soldier nod then pulled the hood of his parka low over his head and walked head first into the raging snowstorm.

  He found his truck in the storm and put the bag with Alyssa in the back seat. Scared that she may suffocate, he opened the zipper over her face and checked on her life energy again, just in case. He left the zipper open, took his parka off, and covered her up to her chin with it, tucking the sleeves underneath to keep it in place. It took some effort, but he buckled the seat belt over her middle without dislodging the parka before getting in the driver’s seat himself. He then blasted the heat on full in the cab of the truck to beat the bitter cold and to keep Alyssa warm before heading down the snow-covered driveway towards the gatehouse.

  Sytrius hoped that the Soldier had spoken about him already, and that he would just be waved through at the gate. His heart skipped when he saw the side window of the gatehouse open, and he rolled the driver’s side window of his truck down too, struggling to remain calm despite the deafening thunder of the heartbeat in his chest.

  “What’s your name, Handler?” asked the Soldier from inside the gatehouse.

  “Sytrius,” he answered.

  “Go!” quickly said the guard and waved him to pass, hurriedly closing the window to keep the wind and the snow out of the gatehouse.

  Not waiting to be asked twice, he pressed the gas pedal and carefully maneuvered through the snow onto the road.

  He did not look back as he drove further into the mountains, away from the base where he spent most of the past century and a half of his life. There was nothing there that he would regret leaving. His thoughts were on Alyssa instead. Now that he made it his business to keep her safe, he had to plan the best way to accomplish it.

  She would be asleep for hours, and she would need some food when she woke up, especially since she skipped dinner tonight. He had nothing but bottled water at his place where he was taking her.

  He would have to let her sleep the rest of the night and most of the morning. Meanwhile, he would have to go get some food when the store in the closest town opened in the morning and figure out what to do next.

  Knowing the slow pace of life in the world of demons, he hoped that they would not be missed until at least tomorrow evening, maybe longer, since Grand Master gave Alyssa a couple of days for recovery. Once they had been discovered missing, though, it wouldn’t take long for the Council to find his place in the mountains. He and Alyssa would have to leave as soon as she felt fit to travel. He would have to get a lot done until then.

  Chapter Twelve. Awakening.

  I woke up slowly and just as slowly became aware where I was or, rather, where I was not. I was not in my cell and most definitely not on top of that thin rag of a mattress. Where I was felt like a real bed: soft, with sheets and a pillow. And I was covered. A warm soft duvet was on top of me. I opened my eyes, trying to get my bearings… and closed them again. The darkness remained pitch-black, whether I had my eyes open or closed! More proof I was no longer in my cell. It was never fully dark there, never fully bright either, just different shades of semi-darkness… The air around me also lacked the artificial quality of the filtered air in my basement cell. Here, the air was thick and musty, with a strong tang of earthy smell.

  I sat up, and I must have done it too quickly because my head spun and I became completely disoriented. A strong headache also pounded against my temples. I tried to recall what happened right before I fell asleep.

  Sytrius… his hands on me…The man with the face of an angel and the eyes of the Devil… His icy cold hand on my face, freezing my skin and my very soul… Chills ran down my arms just from remembering it again. And then… the last thing I felt before the darkness took me was the deep sense of betrayal when Sytrius stood calmly by and let it happen.

  A bitter disappointment pierced my heart. He was one of them after all. I’d made way too many assumptions about him, assumptions that I couldn’t afford to make. And now…

  Where was I now? Was I dead? Did they kill me after all, just like Sytrius had warned me? It was too dark to be heaven, though, and this bed felt too nice for hell.

  Unnerved by the complete darkness around me, I struggled to keep the panic at bay, but the unwelcomed thoughts and crazy questions wouldn’t stop barraging my mind, increasing my headache. Did the beautiful, frightening man in white robe put me here? Was he still planning to kill me? Or was he planning something else for me? Something worse? Or maybe they thought that I had died and buried me alive? Was it some kind of a tomb? That would explain the earthy smell around here. This thought was the most terrifying!

  Completely freaked out now and forgetting all about feeling betrayed, I called the name of the only person who brought me any modicum of comfort during the darkest months of my life: “Sytrius!”
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  “I’m here.” The answer came immediately and so close that I jumped, startled. The relief from hearing his voice flooded me. I didn’t immediately pay any attention to the fact that for the first time ever he didn’t whisper. His voice came out soft, but he was not attempting to keep his voice down. He wasn’t hiding from anyone here.

  “Sytrius, where are you? I can’t see you!” I tried to keep the panic out of my voice, but it still came out rather whiny.

  “It is too dark in here.” His voice was a bit raspy, and he cleared his throat. He, obviously, wasn’t used to talk in full sentences. “Don’t move. I will fetch the lantern.” He said now in a clear low voice that had a slight rumble to it whenever he hit low notes, resonating inside my own chest.

  I heard his footsteps fading into the distance and stopped myself from calling for him again. I could wait. I could be on my own in a complete darkness for a little while longer. He would come back. He wouldn’t leave me here all alone for too long, would he? He’d be back with the lantern… Lantern? There was no other light in here?

  I saw a faint glow of light approaching from the distance and then heard his footsteps again. They were muffled, as if he walked on packed dirt rather than the concrete of the basement. He walked through what looked like an arch opening in a rock wall, holding a large lantern in his raised hand. A warm flickering light came from the thick yellow candle inside the lantern, illuminating more of the roughly hewn rock walls on both sides of the bed where I sat covered to the chest by a thick purple comforter. I noticed that I had on a pair of thick flannel pajamas with long sleeves. Somebody must have dressed me at some point while I was passed out.

  He walked over to the side of the bed and stopped about a foot away. The light of the lantern danced off the smooth surface of the familiar mask. The grey leather gloves covered his hands like always; however, the rest of his armored uniform was now gone. Instead, he wore a pair of cargo pants in army-green colour and a plain t-shirt in faded black that was hugging his wide chest tightly. The short sleeves of the t-shirt stretched over his bulging biceps and exposed the ropy muscles of his forearms. If I ever thought that the uniform added him bulk, making him look larger and more imposing, I could rest assured now that he had enough bulk of his own in those muscles, without the armored plates of the uniform. I forced my eyes away from his body and back to the mask, struggling to see his eyes in the relatively weak candlelight.