Page 5 of Tortured Soul
There was still no coffee in my hands but at least I was not in a dungeon or a cell…Small victories.
I climbed on the old couch, kneeling on the too-soft cushions to look out the window again. People were walking around, alone or in small groups. Some were wearing some kind of black, menacing uniform. Were they guards? Did they have their own army? Their faces were covered by black raven helmets with a long, sharp beak, resembling the one that we used to see during the plague. Weapons were sheathed around their waists, legs, or even arms.
Considering the fact that all of them were Immortals and had various ranks, powers, and abilities, if they also carried weapons they were definitely not people to mess with. Horror surged through me at the thought that the ones who brought me here could have been some of them. That I’ve been acting like a brat to Immortal beings, possibly much stronger than me, who had the means to beat me up without breaking a sweat.
Maybe it was a good thing that my fellow demon got involved before Carter completely lost it.
Was it my fault for being a pain in the ass? Probably. Will I ever be able to refrain from being one? Didn’t think I could. Notmyfault the guy had a temper.
As a Succubus, I’ve learned a long time ago that respect was not easy to obtain, especially from the Divines. If I was being manhandled or disrespected and being polite was not enough, any angel would leave me alone if I started being flirty or handsy.
Today was another proof of that.
I asked him to lessen his hold as I wasn’t planning to run away, but he didn’t listen, choosing instead to hurt me a little more. I didn’t like rubbing myself on beings who were not willing, but at least, playing horny usually made unwilling Immortals—alright, mostly Divines—back off.
A necessary evil. Something I did a lot and found working most of the time. Something I wouldn’t hesitate to do again.
The sun was starting its slow descent in the sky and the view from my lonely tower was absolutely exquisite.
The blue turned darker as the moon and stars started to shine high above. The mixture of orange, pink, and purple nearing the horizon made the town look eerie as it lit it up through the small windows and large front gates adorning the thick and high fortification walls.
Fewer people walked the streets but, from my tower, I could see them regrouping near a large park in the middle of a square, surrounded by what seemed to be restaurants and bars.
This place looked nothing like a survival camp; it was a whole-ass fortified city. Beautiful, at that.
But could someone die from boredom?
There was only so much I could do and think about to pass the time. Half an hour ago, people had been coming and going through the front gates in panic, but I could barely see anything from my spot. I’d seen people running past and heard some crying and shouting a few streets away, but it all went quiet quickly, leaving me wondering what had happened.
My stomach grumbled and an annoyed sigh escaped me. How long were they planning to keep me here? It was barely ten in the morning when I went through the barrier and the sun was nearing the horizon now.
If they had a mandatory twelve to twenty-four hours quarantine rule for newcomers, the polite thing to do would have been toat leastinform me.
I was sprawled on the sofa, playing with a strand of my own hair when the wooden door opened with a loud squeak.
My whole body tensed as I jumped and fought my fight or flight instinct.
It was not the fact that seven Immortals were now standing between me and the door—six of them wearing those terrifying crow helmets—that made me want to claw my way out. No, it was the one man whose face was uncovered. The man whose height towered abovethe others. The man—Immortalman—whose mismatched blue and black narrowed eyes were stormy and ice cold at the same time as he studied me. The Immortal whose inky hair was disheveled enough that it looked like he either just got out of bed or had run his hands through it a thousand times.
The man whose pointed ears peeked from between those wild strands. Pointed ears that marked him as the first of his demon kind just like my hidden ones told that I was the first of mine. The sudden burst of anxiety made my hand instinctively reach for my hair, checking that it was still covering the tips.
There was a problem though; I couldn’t tellwhatkind of demon he was. I wasn’t even sure he really was one. After all, everyone knew eye color was a visible sign for any Immortal. Blue eyes were exclusively Divine, except if he had shapeshifting abilities (like every Succubus or Incubus). Demons had brown to black eyes. Earthwalkers could have any color, but there were always gold flecks in them. Not to mention Nephilims were another story altogether…
And those eyes of his? They were terrifying.
An Immortal’s origin could be smelled like some kind of perfume. Seen in their eyes in the way they gleamed. Felt around them like a whole presence.
Other Immortals could tell what I was without me saying anything. They could identify what kind of Hellriser with just a glimpse, with my scent. They could feel it resonate in their bones, no matter what eye color I chose to wear.
But everything about that man was overwhelming. The scent of warm embers and mist mixed with cinnamon was highly confusing. The way his eyes were burning my skin and freezing my blood at the same time made my heart miss beats just to pump twice as fast in the next second.
He felt holy.
He felt likesin.
I felt like I either needed to light him on fire and run or jump his bones and ride him until I could barely breathe.
Highly confusing.
