The Demon’s Savior

Chapter 8. Fear

Skaris

Skaris walked around his room, one step at a time, not even paying attention to what he was doing. 

His mind, now too wide awake for his liking, was playing, again and again, the last conversation he had had with the kabirian, whose name he still didn’t know. “If we are to survive this, you need to trust me.” 

The elf had said this last night when he came to bring him his dinner and then he repeated almost the same this morning. But today he had seemed so shaken, in so much disposition, as if whatever it was that had happened in the short time between his visits with Skaris, was taking a toll on him in a way he never expected. 

It was strange for Skaris to see him that way. The male always acted so confidently, so sure in his actions, even when he talked about them joining, connecting body and soul as if it was the easiest thing to do and not just forcing someone unwilling. Yet last night he seemed… frightened. Even though they barely spoke, Skaris keeping his distance ever since the elf confessed his agenda, it was all over the male’s face. His bright eyes seemed hollow, his grip – shaking, his face –dark and gloom. 

Suddenly Skaris felt curious as to what was going on, especially he was sure it had something to do with him. 

Did the elf actually confess to Anya that Skaris refused to do the joining and now they were all in trouble? Was he really not doing it? 

Anyway, he sure as f**k asked a lot of Skaris. Skaris didn’t know him, didn’t even know his damn name, yet he wanted Skaris to believe in him. It was wrong to even think about trust. 

Skaris had paid so many times the price for his trust, he couldn’t risk it anymore, especially not now when he was so close to reaching his goal. No, he could not trust him, he wouldn’t. Just the thought of being taken in the way the damn joining suggested, made him tremble with fear beyond imagination. It should confirm he was right to be quick in ending it all before it was too late, not make him cower like a f*****g damsel on her first wedding night. There was no way out, no way back, and no way of living on the way he had lived in his past… however many years it had been since he was captive.

Skaris just didn’t care to live anymore. He was dead long before he had decided death was his only way out. He was stronger now, and even if he was thinner, much thinner than he was in his prime, but still the wounds had closed and the bruises faded, memories of humiliation and scorching pain – shoved in the deepest corners of his mind, and used only to fuel his resolve. Trust? There was no hope left in him to be transformed into trust. His trust meant nothing anymore.

Yet, spending the whole day alone with his own mind in the confined spaces of his room brought Skaris on edge. He was walking in circles, not able to stop thinking about how to approach his own agenda. He was so distracted, he didn’t even hear the approaching steps and when the door opened wide, he froze for a moment, terrified the guards would see him on his feet. 

The elf entered the room with a grave expression on his handsome tanned face. His light eyes seemed to have lost all their warmth and gleamed heavily in the dim-lit room. For a moment they locked gazes. There was something lost in the elf’s eyes, some newfound hollowness that just a few hours back didn’t exist. 

Skaris felt his heart sink into his chest as if it suddenly wanted to stop beating, to make itself invisible and escape the fate of being broken one more time. But it was too late and there was no place to hide in the towers he had helped to be made.

Then the elf entered the room, tearing his eyes away from Skaris and after him Anya Seftha followed, dressed in a large white gown, her long dark hair falling on her back like a waterfall, bringing back all his bad memories. Two large guards, armed to the teeth, came along, making the small room seem crowded and it suddenly felt heavy with morbid coldness.

Feral illogical fear gripped Skaris’ heart and all he could do was step back, but he was not fast enough, there was not enough space and no way out, and soon his back hit the wall opposite the door. And he was trapped once again. Somewhere behind his visitors the door was firmly shut, cutting any possible way for him to escape. 

“No, no, no... “

 Suddenly no air filled his lungs no matter how hard he gasped. The elf approached him. In Skaris’ mind, he was even taller, larger, stronger… so much stronger than his own beaten-up broken body. And smaller and smaller Skaris suddenly felt. But never small enough to become invisible, while the other male was killing the distance between them.

Skaris’ legs gave up and he was about to slide down, but the firm hands of the elf kept him in place. In an instant these hands were all over him, the hard-muscled body pinning him to the wall, taking his breath away, and soon, all Skaris could see was the damn male, the pleads for mercy shattered into pieces.

Skaris wanted to fight. Wanted to be strong enough to push the elf away, to save his last piece of dignity intact. Yet, his blows were weak, his resolve clouded by the impossible fear of being taken by force by somebody he did let himself trust, the small thin door of his mind that guarded his damage away was quickly turning into ashes, letting all slip out – all the dirt and the black voids, and the memories of screams and pain and humiliation beyond any imagination.

A dark male, demon as in his memories, one smelling of rotten teeth and piss and sweat, took the shape of the clean elf in Skaris’ mind. It was not the elf who touched him now, and each touch burned like embers and sunbeams.

Skaris screamed. Yet he couldn’t recognize his own voice in these screams, the sounds mixing up with the ones from the past – the pleas for mercy never heard, never respected. He was drowning in his own screams. He begged the tormentor in his memories to stop, the words falling from his mouth like spilled marbles, even when the pain inside him was so scorching and humiliating with each thrust that there was nothing left of him. Nothing, but ashes and desperate meek sobs, swallowing all the pride Skaris once had. 

And it was now happening again. Dirty demon guards, a clean elf, did it really matter? They were all the same, abusers, killers, merciless bastards taking and taking, and taking even when there was nothing left to take. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a tiny piece of sanity told him that he was suffocating, but there was no fight left in him. His heart was pacing in his chest so fast it could explode and Skaris hoped exactly for this. Anything, just to stop the past from repeating itself.  

Then the kabirian actually pushed him to the wall and pinned Skaris’ hands behind his head – the kabirian’s grip so strong the fingers dug holes in Skaris’ flesh. With his other hand, the elf started to undo his own shirt, while his body was so closely attached to Skaris’ that Skaris was not able to move anymore.

“No, no, please, don’t do this, you promised…” Skaris continued to beg, even though he was not sure what the meaning of his own words was. All the horrors, past and present, were so mixed together in his shattered mind that it was impossible to tell them apart anymore. All the pleas he had said and the ones he had to say merged in a kaleidoscope of endless despair. Actual tears run down his face even when he believed his eyes had dried so long ago. 

“I promised a lot of things, demon,” The elf said, looking at him with dead resolve in his eyes.  Eyes that Skaris once thought beautiful, but were now clouded with pure hate. His smile was hungry, vicious, gloating. Of course, what was he thinking – he was the one who started it all, it was his fault that the elves lost their homes and lives. Why would one of them give him mercy?

“Please don’t do this…”

The queen’s laughter was so loud when his pleadings began again that Skaris was sure he did not want to live in this world anymore. His soul didn’t matter, his secret didn’t matter. He just could not go through this again, not now when he actually did believe there was a way out, not by this male who had become his whole world in the last weeks. 

Yet, it was happening. The elf was done with his shirt, with his free hand he tossed it away somewhere and the heat of his naked chest burned like fire through Skaris’ thin clothing. Then the male reached for the fastenings of his trousers – Skaris felt the strong hand between their intertwined bodies, felt the hardness of the male’s erect member, suddenly making him want to vomit. The elf looked him in the eyes then, his gaze intense and full of some unfamiliar feeling Skaris could not decipher. 

“It turns out I don’t always keep my promises!” The male suddenly turned back, the vicious slaughter of the demon queen stopped so surprisingly, it made the silence that followed deafening. 

With wide opened eyes Skaris watched how Anya Seftha froze in place, her mouth open in disbelief, while a big flower of dark blue blood bloomed on her white gown. The handle of a large silver dagger, Skaris’ old dagger, was sticking out of the wound. And then the queen slid to her feet, her body hitting the stone floor hard, a small streak of dark blood erupting from her mouth, her golden eyes staring unseeingly in the ceiling. 

Skaris barely registered he was now free of the elf’s grip, who was now putting his shirt back on, and the two guards stood frozen in place. 

“Come on, I am not so good with your dark magic, we need to go!” He told Skaris, who was still pressed to the wall. All the horror of what had just happened took its toll on him and he finally realized it was all over. 

Skaris didn’t even fight when the kabirian, now holding the bloodied dagger, took his hand and dragged him to the door, and when he opened it, there were two other guards standing frozen in front of it, and an unfamiliar human girl waited for them.

“Are you alright, my lord?” She asked with a trembling voice and Skaris realized the same horror he felt was written all over her round face. She tossed them the dark cloak she was holding in her hands and the kabirian threw it over Skaris’ shoulders. 

“Cover your damn head” the male ordered with a rough voice, the words spitting out as if he wasn’t able to speak to Skaris anymore, now that he knew all the shameful secrets Skaris hid. 

When Skaris didn’t comply, his whole being still in a stupor after what had happened, after what he was led to believe was about to happen, the male covered him himself.

“We are going through the window in my room – me, Tsana, and you. You can fall apart later, now we need to go, I might’ve just declared war on your people all over again.”

“They are not my people” Skaris replied, no sign of emotion left in his chest to even care anymore. “They are just abominations of what once was.”

“Well, word will spread soon enough, we can’t stay here.”

Skaris made a step back, determination now flooding in him. A way back. A way out. It was his chance. He nodded and then followed the elf to the window that would seal his fate for good.