Page 178 of Lost in the Dark

“Oh, good,” I sigh. “Well, since we’ve moved past all this awkwardness, how about some coffee?”

“Coffee,” he replies, a note of hesitation in his voice. “In a moment, perhaps. For now, I would be interested in hearing more of the books you were speaking of last night. The ones regarding the ring. They seemed like a fantastical adventure.”

I blink at the complete change of topic, but I smile at his obvious fascination. “Ah, now those are some of the best stories.” I purse my lips thoughtfully. “I could read a few chapters,” I hesitantly offer, “but that will take forever.” I grin then as an idea takes root. “Or I can blow off work and we can have a movie marathon and you can see them come to life for yourself. I have the entire collection.”

His head tips as he considers. “I would not mind watching one of the… movies… with you that you mentioned last night. I confess I never imagined seeing my favorite events come to life beyond the illusions of mages.”

“Perfect!” I beam, my coffee withdrawal already forgotten with the excitement as he nods indulgently. I couldn’t even get past boyfriends to commit to an all-day movie marathon—and Gralius is actually asking for it! I could take pity on him and just pick one set of movies, but that was impossible. “You need a whole day to get throughThe Hobbitand the entire expanded editions ofLord of the Ringsso we might as well start now.Lord of the Rings, as I told you before, are my favorite books, but you really need to watchThe Hobbitfirst to truly appreciate what is happening.”

A rough chuckle escapes him, and I beam, feeling quite accomplished at making him laugh regardless of how rusty the sound was. The terror of the waking dream is worth a moment like this, I decide.

For his part, Gralius is quickly drawn into the tale and has not shortage of questions, all of them clever enough to distract me from fleeting thoughts of popcorn or any other kind of snack or drink as we watch the movie. I even resist the urge to strangle him when he laughingly dismisses the Nazgul as little more than mindless wraiths and not a true threat, which starts up a hot debate between us that lasts for all three of the remaining movies.

By the time it is done, we are sprawled together on the couch, and I am half-lying on him. He is surprisingly comfortable and firm for an incorporeal entity like a demon, but I shrug it off. I do not know the rules of how things work with his kind. Or maybe it’s some sort of special magic between us that allows us to touch like this. All I know is that I am comfortably warm, my eyes closing as Gralius gives a contented sigh with the rolling credits of the final film. I don’t even try to keep my eyes open, and before long I feel my weight shift as I am gathered up into a pair of powerful arms and carried into my bedroom.

Strange how close I already feel to him after days of being terrified of my night visitor. I’m not alarmed at all by this, or by how easily I drift off to sleep within his arms. I don’t recall sleeping so well in days, in fact, not since before he arrived to haunt my dreams.

A smile curls my lips as I feel him lay me on my bed, a sound of muffled annoyance escaping him as he shoves my mushroom plush out of the way, drawing the covers over me, his rough hand gently brushing my hair from my face. He hovers over me for a moment and then is gone, but sleep is already drawing me in, and I hope that tonight, if I must dream, that I dream of him again.

Gralius

Ihate that the nightmares came again, tormenting her with their usual fervor. I suffer more with her pain than I do with my own. It hurts to witness it as it comes again and again. For many nights they have tormented her, and there has been little that I have been able to do other than remain by her side and attempt to shift her out of the worst scenarios when they disturb her too much.

So far, they have not yet progressed beyond disturbing, but I am finding it more difficult to witness the way that she struggles with them. She clings to me as the world crackles and splinters, her eyes closed tightly as she shivers, the splintered moaning sounds filling her ears with further fears that she cannot escape, and I can only provide a meager buffer against until everything finally rights itself again and the dream fades, ripping me away from her once again.

They will only get worse. And soon. I can feel the energy shift, tearing more violently , even if it did not readily manifest itself in a way that she noticed. But it will happen very soon whether we are prepared for it or not.

These thoughts sour my mood as I stand at the corner of the living room, my arms crossed over my chest as I watch her make another pass with a container of smoldering herbs. My nose wrinkles slightly at their astringent scent as I immediately recognize juniper, rosemary, frankincense, and lavender in the musk. I have already watched her sweep out the ill energy and cleanse the floors, biting my tongue the entire time to resist telling her that this will not do her any good.

As her energetic body flushes brighter with color, I consider that just maybe it will help her stave off the more detrimental manifestations as the smoke refreshes her, but I do not cling to this thread of hope. I cannot when I know that it will not stop the natural processes from taking their hold. The cosmic order of nature cannot be denied, no matter how one rails at it and desires otherwise.

Despite my grim thoughts, I make myself smile when Naomi casts a questioning look at me, the aromatic smoke in a beam of sunlight making her shimmer ethereally. She smiles and passes by me, continuing her sweep through the house.

For a moment, she comes so close to me that the brush of her energy against mine draws forth an acute arousal raging through my blood. It is torturous, this need. Though it pulses the strongest through my sex, stiffening my cocks even as it summons forth my seed, it grips my entire body as well, a tempo raging through me that needs to make my claim.

My claws dig into my palms, cutting until I feel my blood spill from the gashes. The looks she occasionally casts me as she works does nothing to cool my need. Not when I can see it heat within her own eyes in response. With her fear of me gone, there is the dance between us now—a mating dance that I recognize instinctively. One that draws her near and away with the graceful sway of her hips. Her every movement demands that I join the dance, and I cannot resist the call.

From behind me, my dark wings unfurl, the feathers fluffing out in soft welcome. I fan the air with them in a rhythmical flap, drawing them slowly through the air, causing the smoke to dance around her like a corona framing her head. Though she doesn’t slow, her smile widens appreciatively, sending a tingle of pleasure running through my frame. Unable to resist, my long tail uncurls from beneath my robe, sliding against the floor sinuously in a provocative search for the touch of its mate. Unlike many demon tails that tend to be lethally tipped, my tail is smooth and made for pleasure.

It is the sight of my tail that startles Naomi into pausing mid-step, her eyes widening for a moment before snapping up to meet mine. A rumble of amusement escapes me as her gaze darts away to focus once more on her task, her steps uncertain as she flees, though a pleased smile curls her lips. Seductively, my wings fan the air in gentle gales that caress her. It teases her senses as I knew that it would. She shivers, brushing her curls from her face with one hand as she glances at me over her shoulder.

There is the smallest amount of censure in her eyes as she shakes her head and playfully mouths “stop,” and I grin in response, tucking my wings back into place behind me. She doesn’t shrink from the twist of my smile or the baring of teeth far sharper and more vicious in appearance than her own. Instead, her soft chuckle fills the room before her incantation picks up again where it left off, her words twining with her power and the energy rising within the dispersing smoke.

I can see the beautiful play of magic as the power spreads throughout the house, filling it with that which had already been cleansed away with bright, pure energy that rivals anything I’ve personally enjoyed witnessing before in such rituals. Protection, cleansing, and purification magic seem to be the developed strengths of my witch, with countless other skills doubtlessly budding that I’ve yet to see. Such an ability is no small thing. It can break curses and hexes where other magic fails, heal, and create impenetrable penetrations that could protect not only individuals but large areas. She is young but showing clear signs of being powerful already, and I feel nothing short of pride for the female I would make my mate.

I feel a measure of awe as her power briefly disperses the shadows, straining through them rather than destroying them like faint rays cast down through clouds. That perfect control only temporarily displaces naturally present energies without seeking to destroy all traces to create a completely empty, sanitized space.

I am impressed with that as much as with the bright waft of her power. If this were any other situation, I have no doubt that it would correct any energy displacements or invading entities that like to cling to places where sentient beings dwell. Such parasites cling to the trace energy of death. Her skill is one that my people would have great appreciation for, as each thanatos seeks cleansing and purification upon their return to remove the lingering energy that attracts such feeders. The mage priests of the region would no doubt seek to ensconce her among their numbers after we arrive.

Should we arrive, I remind myself. I cannot make the error of getting ahead of myself and making assumptions again, or else I will have learned nothing.

“Okay then, that should do it!” Naomi smiles, setting the bowl on a pad on a nearby table. She draws a deep breath of the freshened air, but her nose screws up at the last moment as she gags. “Fuck, I really need to call someone to see what the hell that stench is. That’s just putrid.” She glances at me, her nose wrinkling in distaste. “Can you smell it?”

I nod and attempt not to show my pleasure that she is beginning to smell the putrid mess developing. Though she cannot yet see it, that she is starting to perceive it makes me hopeful.

“Do you know what is causing it?” I inquire as if equally mystified as to the source.

Her brow furrows, and she lets out a disgusted sigh. “I suspect it’s a rat or something dead in the walls. I will need to try the exterminator again. I can’t seem to get ahold of anyone lately,” she grumbles.

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