Needless to say, his ability to speak any of the human languages was incredibly helpful. He spoke the languages in the same manner as he spoke English, I assumed: with excellent grammar and impeccable pronunciation. Like somebody who learned the language from childhood and then spent a significant amount of time in English speaking countries, but it was not their first language and therefore they had no particular accent or dialect to tie them to any specific region.
My weird pull towards the restraints during sex that started in the nightclub in Munich lasted for a few more times. Sytrius played along every time I asked him to tie me up or made him put his gloves on. He even blindfolded me once or twice so that I wouldn’t see his face.
It worried me a little, at first. The use of a blindfold or restraints during sex was not what caused my worry. It was the specific connection to my experiences in the incubi captivity and the fact that the things that used to terrify me then were turning me on now.
Sytrius speculated that it had something to do with me having a chance to relive everything that was done to me in the arena without my consent; only now, it was under my full command and in a safe environment. This way, he argued, I was going through the experiences one by one, exorcising the fear, loneliness and helplessness I felt back then from my memory and replacing them with more positive emotions.
Of course, Sytrius was far from an expert on human psychology even if he read a book on it or happened to watch a documentary sometime in his cave. However, he had a tremendous expertise on my own personal psyche.
Every one of my moods and emotions he had memorized, catalogued and committed to memory. He could recognize them by taste, shade and colour in any combinations and had diligently continued to learn not only what I felt, but also why I felt the way I did in any particular situation.
Most of the times, he knew my feelings long before I would even recognize them myself. So I had every reason to trust him when he said that I would eventually come to terms with my experiences in captivity, that time and patience would help me face them head on and put them behind me, eventually.
It was not a complete surprise then when it, indeed, started to happen. Little by little, I was able to look back at individual memories one by one without denial, grief or burning desire to forget. I would acknowledge them and file them away not as something horrible that needed to be buried deep inside me and carried around forever, but as a memory of something that happened to me but didn’t damage me, something that I survived and moved on.
Little by little, this process brought peace to my mind and balanced my moods. I felt free from my past and more confident in my ability to live my life.
This also freed my mind to think about other things.
Knowing that all kidnappings were currently suspended in the East made me breathe more easily. However, I could not forget that they were still happening all over the western continent. There were still women held captive on both incubi bases too.
Oddly, I also couldn’t deny the fact that I felt concerned for the incubi too. Getting to know some of them, I realized that, in a way, most of them were also victims of the terms of the outdated treaty. I was beginning to believe that, ultimately, the goals of incubi and humans were not that different and could be aligned.
One warm evening in a bed and breakfast room in Genoa, I ended up contacting Andras and gave him the permission to email his questions to me. The first week that followed, he emailed me at least a few dozen of them every morning. Some were simple enough, some were more complicated, requiring more time and thought to answer, and then some were just too personal, if not outright intrusive.
I tried to answer most of them the best I could and as honestly as I dared. Eventually, I started emailing him whatever suggestions would come into my head, everything I could think of to relieve the torment of the incubi without endangering humans in the process.
The idea of a live dance show wouldn’t leave me, for instance. Could that be a better solution for the hungry incubi than walking the streets at night, collecting any scraps of positive human emotions that they could trick out of compassionate women?
I looked at Sytrius now when he no longer suffered from the pain of hunger. Full of life, joy and vigor, he commanded attention everywhere he went and could attract a crowd in the middle of nowhere without trying.
A group of incredibly attractive and naturally talented male dancers, just like him, would not only enjoy themselves on stage, busking in the attention of a room full of women, they would also have a very real chance to feed on positive sexual energy, the energy that I had been told now and again was the preferred source of sustenance for incubi.
A room full of horny women would be filled with all kinds of fun, positive feelings, including the sexual energy, with nowhere to go but towards the incubi on the stage. In addition, it would be easy enough for the dancers to stay away from the physical contact since they would be separated from the public by being on stage, thus keeping the human women out of direct danger.
Then I thought about the passion with which Andras told me about Natasha, the girl he had known for almost a year and hadn’t even touched her hand without a glove. I remembered the longing in Alfarr’s voice when he talked about having someone to care about him. It was becoming clear to me that the incubi needed more than just being fed. In fact, they seemed to need more than any woman could give.
I thought I knew them better than any human at this point, but even I was afraid that their avaricious appetite could never be truly satisfied.
The hunger of Sytrius had not disappeared completely. Instead, it had evolved somehow. Gone was the desperation of feeding for survival, the all-consuming worry about the next meal and the pain associated with it. True, he looked happy, he was strong and quick, his mind sharp, but he never failed to reply that he was always hungry whenever I asked.
Chapter Thirty Nine. I Love You.
One late morning, in a hotel room in Marseille, after a warm lazy night spent in Sytrius’s arms, I laid on my stomach on the bed. We had just made love, and I was feeling like a warm melting puddle of goo.
Sytrius was lying next to me. As usual, he was buzzing with energy. I was sure he could run a marathon right now and not even break a sweat.
He didn’t look like he wanted to get out of bed, though, needing to be close to me. He propped himself on one elbow and was tracing some intricate designs on my exposed back and buttocks.
Music was playing from the speakers on the dresser, guiding his touches on my skin. It was “Victory” by Two Steps From Hell.
During the past couple of months, I had seen more of world culture and learned more about my own tastes than I had during my entire life prior. I could not have imagined having a better partner to experience it all with than Sytrius. He was so eager to learn, so enthusiastic to see and so appreciative of new experiences! It was impossible not to catch his enthusiasm and not to share his joy.
He was especially impressed by live performances, whether it was a symphony, a theater play or an opera. The energy of people performing life on stage seemed to feed his own creativity and imagination, both literally and otherwise.
We discovered that our tastes in music differed a little. Even though we both would say that we liked classical music, Sytrius preferred formal church compositions and organ music, but I found them too stuffy and even depressing at times, favoring more popular orchestra symphonies and crossover music.
Surprisingly, after a series of trials and errors, we compromised on music score from epic movies and even from video games. Two Steps From Hell was our favourite at the moment.
“What are you doing, Sytrius?” I asked, noticing that the strokes of his fingers along my skin no longer just followed the rhythm of music but created something new entirely even if still using the music as a base.
“Painting,” he said unexpectedly. “Well, you are painting. I’m just… directing.”
I laughed.
“How can I be pai
nting, darling? You wore me out so much. I can barely speak right now.”
“Well, you are. And it’s beyond beautiful…”
“Tell me,” I asked.
He knew what I meant: I often asked him now to describe what he saw inside me. Listening to him describe all the shapes, shades and colours of my own emotions to me, I would close my eyes and imagine the pictures he painted with his words, wishing I were talented enough to replicate them on canvas.
He didn’t start describing it right away this time, though. Instead, he moved his hand up to the back of my neck and squeezed it gently.
“This place… right here.” He said, brushing his fingertips along the nape of my neck in tender caress. “This was the first thing I noticed about you that stayed in my mind. It looked so pale and delicate. I could have broken your neck in one movement, snap it between my fingers effortlessly. The realization of how fragile your life was, how easily it could be taken away from you, made me want to protect it. Even if I didn’t realize it myself then, I was going to do anything to keep you alive. I didn’t know you at all yet, I didn’t care about you nearly as much as I care about you now, but I already wanted to keep you safe, to have the pleasure of your company for as long as I could…”
He lowered his head to me and kissed the back of my neck. I felt the goose bumps of pleasure, caused by his touch and by his words, run down my body all the way to the tips of my toes.
“It’s the tender blush, the colour of the sky just before the sun rises in the morning,” he said softly, and I realized that he was describing what he saw inside of me now. “The faint, warm, orange, after-sex glow is still in the middle, churning lazily like thick molasses, but the edges have this pale pink tint already, which was started by my kiss on your neck. When I do this…” He traced the edge of my shoulder blade with the tip of a finger. “A bright gold line appears right in the middle of the pink blush. It spreads then into hundreds of tiny little web-thin rays, forming intricate golden designs. The whole picture is very delicate right now: muted, subdued tones… pale pastels… But if I do this...” he said, suddenly grabbing me by the hips and flipping me over onto my back, making me gasp from the unexpected action.
“Shhhh.” He rubbed the side of his face against the edge of my cheekbone in a soothing motion and whispered into my ear, “I’m just going to add some colour…”
He brushed his lips across my mouth towards the other side of my jaw then came back for a more thorough kiss on my lips, stroking my tongue with his. His teeth pulled my lower lip as his hand moved up to my breast, and he rolled and tweaked my nipple between the tips of his fingers. My mouth fell open, releasing a loud moan. The relaxed contentment slipped off me, replaced by the excitement slowly taking over.
“Here we go... Luscious, scarlet flowers burst in splashes of vivid colour all over your picture now…” he murmured with satisfaction and lowered his mouth to my breast. The tip of his tongue circled around the nipple before sucking it in, making my hips buck.
He pulled at the nipple, letting it slide out of his mouth slowly, grazing it with his teeth. I screamed, even as the light pain turned to an exquisite pleasure when he let my tormented nipple go and massaged it with the pad of his thumb.
“The flowers are connected by sharp white-purple lightning bolts of pain, dissolving into pools of pleasure.”
He bit the other nipple, eliciting another scream from me. An electric charge shot through me, and the ache between my legs reached unbearable levels.
“Sytrius, please…” I begged and angled my hips towards him. I threw my leg over his thigh and pulled myself as close to him as I could, seeking more contact, more pressure…
“…The flowers spread and grow until they merge into one magnificent ocean with wide rolling swells of colour pulsating with liquid light from within.” He looked up into my face as his hand slid down between us and further down, finding the place between my thighs where I wanted him now more than I could tell. My legs fell apart, welcoming his touch, and I raised my hips seeking a deeper, stronger contact.
“Oh, Sytrius… Sytrius… oh, my God, it’s so good…” Words left me. I could no longer compile them into a cohesive sentence. His name was the one and only word I could still hold on to. It bounced in my head in the same pulsating rhythm as the waves of pleasures that he had been creating in me. “Sytrius… oh yes…”
“Ride the waves Alyssa…” His irises caught on fire, burning bright crimson now. He kept looking at my face intently, watching what only he could see. His hand moved faster with his deft fingers expertly working all my pleasure points and making me lose control to his sweet torment.
He removed his hand suddenly, hooked it under my bent knee and thrust his hips forward, entering me at once. I threw my head back, reeling from the overwhelming pleasure of having him inside me and from the feeling of closeness when he moved in and out of me, taking me higher and higher as only he could.
He knew it first, just before I reached that tight coil of ecstasy inside of me, a moment before I could release it…
“Let it go, my angel…” he whispered. “Time to take us there…” I felt the spring uncoil. Waves washed over me and shook my body in pulsating spasms, echoing the powerful shudders of his own body as he came with me. I clung to his biceps, taking us both there, to the place where time stands still…
“Oh, my God… Sytrius…” I breathed out, when I was able to say anything through the last tremors of the orgasm. “I love you… I love you so much.”
He lowered his forehead to mine. “I love you too, Alyssa,” he whispered softly, yet the words reverberated through my very soul.
My chest felt tight, and I closed my eyes, afraid to take another breath. I pulled my arms tighter around him.
“You don’t have to say it, sweetheart.”
“But I want to,” he said firmly, and his eyes found mine. “I want to say it because it’s true. I know I’m not supposed to feel love, but I do.”
His eyes moved between both of mine, imploring me to believe him.
“What is love, Alyssa? Does anyone really know?” His voice rose, the passion of his words now matched the fire in his eyes. “Humans claim to feel it from the beginning of times, they talk about it constantly. I tried to look up the definition of love, and you know what, Alyssa? Nobody knows for sure what love is. There are so many confusing meanings, definitions, interpretations, even manipulations…”
He rolled over on his back, holding me by my shoulders and bringing me over him. Lying on top of his chest now, I smoothed his tangled messy hair, the colour of wet sand, and brushed it out of his face.
“People may not know exactly what love is, Sytrius, they just feel it…”
“Well, humans may not know what love is, but I do,” he argued. “I see your love for me everyday. I’m literally filled with it. I know exactly how it looks, how it tastes, and I know how it feels. I know the way you feel about me: your deep affection, your burning need for me, care, desire, closeness, friendship, tenderness… All of it I feel for you too and more. I love you, Alyssa. There is no other word for it.”
My heart thundered inside my chest, overflowing with joy, gratitude and pure happiness. I believed every word he said. He never lied to me, not once, not even when he could easily get away with it, not even when it made sense to lie, not even to spare my feelings. In my head I knew that demons couldn’t love, but I was more than certain that Sytrius loved me with all his heart when he said that he did.
I looked deep into his eyes. They were still glowing red with my passion, but there was something else there at that moment, something I had never seen there before. A film of moisture made his eyes look glossy, and a single drop rolled out of the outer corner of his eye.
“Sytrius?” I asked quietly and gently dried the fallen tear with my thumb. “Can demons cry?”
“No.” He shook his head. The tear in the corner of his other eye shimmered bright, threatening to roll out and down the side of h
is face. I lowered my head and kissed it away, tasting its saltiness.
“Well,” I smiled at him through my own tears now, “you just keep breaking all the rules…”
Chapter Forty. The Summons.
One hot evening beginning of August, Sytrius and I were having a seafood dinner in a restaurant overlooking Barcelona Beach.
We turned out not to be the most efficient of travellers. In over four months of our travels through Europe we made it through Austria, Italy, Morocco and France, and it was our first week in Spain.
My initial itinerary ended up expanding every day. After seeing the most prominent landmarks and tourist attractions in any country we visited, we would end up lingering in a historical hotel longer than planned, just because we both liked it. Or we would drive through the countryside and stop at a picturesque bed and breakfast or a friendly guest house and stay there for a week or longer, exploring local food and culture.
With his easy-going personality and without a language barrier, Sytrius easily charmed everyone we met.
Being a little shy by nature and even more reserved with strangers since my time in captivity, I tried to push myself out of my comfort zone too, learning a few words and phrases in the local language and using whatever English people around me had to interact with them.
No matter how much of a good time we had, though, the feeling of the imminent doom was hanging over us like a storm cloud on the horizon. I avoided talking with Sytrius about the impending Council hearing. I knew that he kept in close contact with Andras and got regular updates from him on the state of the mood among the Council members, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask.
Sytrius was not entirely happy with me coming to the hearing. He preferred for me to stay in a hotel in Minsk with Alfarr and Zander and to wait for him there in a relative safety. This way, they could take me out of the country and away from the Council that much faster should he lose the hearing and be detained on the spot. Both Andras and I convinced him that I should be there. Andras promised to get me out of the meeting room and off the incubi base if Sytrius was unable to do it himself. I personally decided to go to the hearing because I was not going to part with Sytrius until it was absolutely necessary, maybe not even then.
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