Captured Ch. 02

A second dose just because the comments were amusing and the first for whatever reason made me laugh. The same warning - this does not feature sex. Sorry! Additionally I don't plan to continue it, not really my genre. Hope you enjoy.

**********

A melancholy quiet filled the large, bright hall. It was a bleak stillness that might follow a funeral. The silence was only broken by the sound of water trickling down ornately tiled sections of wall, flowing into thin, ceramic white side gutters.

Devan, Sirah's father, sat before a great black hearth as he received the shattering news of his daughter's abduction. He held his face in his hands for a long time before speaking.

"What do we know of this demon?"

"He..." Salan hesitated, his forest-green wings pointed thoughtfully upward. "He is not malevolent."

Devan stood angrily and spoke with indignant emphasis. "He is a demon, who saw fit to steal my daughter."

"Yes," Noah tactfully joined the conversation. "But he does not maim or terrorise for leisure. He feeds off the land and takes mortal women, but otherwise keeps to himself."

"A distinction I would be grateful for, if she is unharmed..." Devan's thoughts progressed and he became agitated.

"Take the orb. Secure her release," Devan snapped his fingers at an elegant, sleek black box positioned on a tall shrine.

His audience goggled at him.

"The orb?" Noah repeated in a hushed voice. "But-"

"Sirah is more precious," Devan harshly interrupted, and Noah flushed guiltily.

"I would trade my life for her safe return!" he said defensively, upset to be misunderstood. "But to offer an orb before anything else..." he paused tentatively. "You have power. If you could come with us...?"

"Never." Though Devan stood still, his wings straightened and extended with tension, as though ready to glide.

Though Devan's features were flawless, they were hardened by a worldly sharpness. With the same sleek blonde hair as his daughter, his eyes were of a fuller, more concentrated green, where Sirah's were soft pastel. Unlike Sirah's rainbow colouring, her father's wings were a vibrant navy, with purple-black tones.

"Why not?" Noah curiously persisted. Devan was no coward, and he cherished his daughter.

"Because he is a demon. Demons are wily and..." Devan trailed off as his dread increased. "He may demand what only I can yield. And I could not bear it."

"How many-?" Salan began to ask, and Devan held up a hand to silence him.

"Only two. Yourself, and Noah."

Salan and Noah exchanged an alarmed glance. Devan sighed impatiently.

"Any more will appear a threat, and also reveal her importance."

As Salan and Noah extracted the orb and began to wrap it, they heard Devan bitterly mutter to himself.

"Tis as I always feared. Her beauty was a curse."

**********

"I am Thoran. What is your name?"

In a sealed compartment of the Demon's lair, Sirah drew her knees to her chest and remained stubbornly silent. She looked up furtively as he approached the barrier.

It was a barrier for her, not him. 'Devil's Mist' was a layer of light smoke through which only a demon could pass.

Sirah cried throughout the entire journey, then fainted when they arrived at his home. Coming to her senses as she woke on a soft bed, she was shocked to be alive. Surprisingly, the demon had made an effort to craft a suitable living environment for her.

It was no secret that nymphs preferred clean, watery abodes, and through the mist Sirah made out several blue ponds of fresh water that were not there when she fainted.

Despite her persistent silence, the demon spoke freely and seemed unsympathetically amused by her quiet terror. His deep, richly confident voice was hardly reassuring when he informed her the restriction was temporary; that he would alter parts of his home to suit her once everything settled.

Sirah had no idea what he meant by 'settled', but she knew what he wanted. There was no mistaking his intent from the first moment he began his fervent pursuit. Initially dreading a horrible death, the new idea of permanent captivity seemed worse. They were both eternal beings.

Despite marked dissimilarities, Sirah had the same indeterminate lifespan as her people. However different she was from her peers, she was adored nonetheless. As her beauty only increased with age, her father grew more worried than proud. She was a constant source of anxiety for him, and he forbade her to venture out alone.

Even with escorts, the land beyond the immediate surrounds of the border was always off-limits. Sirah had grown tired of dolefully watching travelling groups depart and return, flushed with excitement, bursting to tell incredible stories of wonderful escapades and narrowly avoided peril.

Demons were often part of the tales. And now, she had her own nightmarish adventure that seemed impossible to escape. She was trapped in the fate she had tempted.

"What is your name?" the demon repeated, standing against the grey swirling barrier. "I know you are not mute," he added, smiling as he recalled her desperate cry for help. "I like your voice, very much."

Sirah cowered when he stepped through the smoke. She had never seen a demon before, but knew what he was the instant he leapt for her. His appearance was very intimidating, but unusually neat. He was physically appealing and very human-like, except for the colour of his skin.

Despite having no shirt or shoes, he wore pants which were more suited to a nobleman than a demon. His hair was neatly cropped and black as his eyes, which burned as though a fire continually raged within him. Plainly stronger and more agile than any mortal, there was no way she could defeat him.

Despite his sinister intentions, he'd hardly touched her. She wasn't brutalised. He didn't even rip off her wings. On the contrary, he took great care not to damage them.

"You will speak," he remarked, crouching before her. He paused as terror flittered across her pretty face at his closeness. "I told you not to fear me."

"You said you would not hurt me," Sirah answered nervously. "Not that I have nothing to fear."

"Wise. And true." Again, the amused smile.

Thoran felt a familiar, pleasurable shiver at the sound of her angelic voice. Though certain he would savour her body, he also sensed this frightened, delicious little being would make a diverting companion.

"When...when you have..." Sirah swallowed, unable to voice the dreaded thought. Once they were satisfied, demons either killed or released the prey they captured. They did not keep prisoners. "After...Will you let me go?" she asked tremulously.

"I think not," Thoran chuckled, warmly admiring her tempting qualities.

With long, perpetually gleaming blonde tresses, an irresistibly luscious body and eyes of a rare, captivating pale green, it was as though she was designed to torment him. Thoran remembered the first enchanting sight of her, the adorable mischief on her lovely face while she gleefully plotted some harmless trick. Even now in abject misery, she was no less desirable.

"Why?"

"Do you really wish to know?"

Sirah nodded, looking petrified.

"Because my lust for you will never be sated."

Sirah was horrified. "My father has-"

"I have no interest in treasure, except the one before me," he said, anticipating her plea. "What is your name?"

"Please..."

"Your name."

Sirah whimpered as he advanced onto the bed, one arm sneakily encircled her so he could smooth a hand across her back to flatten her wings. The weight of him held her trapped, the warmth of his bare skin surreally alluring.

"My wings!" Sirah exclaimed fretfully, close to tears.

"Do I hurt you?"

"No, but..." She stifled a sob.

Wings were the most expressive part of a nymph. To hold them immobile was like dampening the ability to speak. It was considered one of the more severe punishments for disobedient young ones.

As a grown nymph, the restriction was very humiliating, and Sirah baulked at the prospect of an eternity with her wings suppressed. But she quickly realised there were worse things to fear, as Thoran loomed closer.

"Tell me your name. Why do you withhold it?" he peered at her questioningly.

Sirah was exquisite from afar, but more captivating up close. Thoran wondered if he was experiencing the same lure he used to ensnare mortal women. Despite his controlled manner, he wanted her more than anything.

It was as though his existence was meaningless before their paths crossed; every part of him screamed for a relief that he wanted to experience endlessly.

"Should I take you now?" he murmured, staring into her glimmering, light-green eyes as they widened with delicious trepidation.

Sirah's lips parted with dismay as his hands slowly roamed her body, touching her in a way no nymph, man or any creature had dared. It was gentle, strange, and terrifying.

"Stop! My name is Sirah!" she cried, turning away from his incoming mouth.

"Thank you, Sirah," he breathed against her elegant neck, and felt her shudder helplessly. "You should have answered me the first time. Now lie still, and I will..."

"Please, no!" Sirah implored, futilely pushing against his shoulders.

"...be gentle," he finished silkily, and Sirah squealed as his searching hand travelled up her thigh, beneath her dress and stroked her in a way that created panic and pleasure.

"No!" she begged, straining as his immovable figure seemed to envelop her.

She felt like a wriggling caterpillar trapped in a cocoon; her wings quivered against her back, fighting for release. Though relieved to be alive, there was an unspeakable shame that would follow her being tarnished by a Demon. How could she face her father?

"I wonder if I affect the human in you," Thoran mused, so close to her now that their bodies were pressed tightly together.

Sirah flinched. He knew. But her thoughts ceased as something rubbed and poked her lower body. With his chest against her, she had no way to see. Thoran's movements became more insistent. Gasping, Sirah cast a frightened look upwards and saw he watched her carefully. There was no cruelty in his black eyes, only an intense lust.

Sirah desperately shook her head, but he only smiled. When she turned her face away, Thoran seized her jaw and forced her back. His mouth was comfortingly warm as he kissed her, and Sirah sighed defeat against his lips.

The heat of his body was relaxing, and her limbs lightened as though she were floating. Suddenly everything about Thoran seemed desirable. From his enticing appearance, his masculine energy, his confident touch - she wanted him to take her.

'Demons are wicked, virtue thieves' she was told. 'They lure females like a siren...'

Sirah forgot all warnings and kissed him back. Fear left her body, replaced with a tingling excitement she had never known. It steadily increased with tantalising promise, she wanted to know where it led.

Thoran smiled triumphantly against her willing mouth, enjoying the sensual pressure of her sweet, full lips eagerly rising to meet him. The delicious taste of her on his tongue. Her svelte, delectable body writhing responsively to his caresses. He couldn't wait to take her innocence, to possess her fully. To be the first and last to own her, eternally.

Sirah stared, panting and afraid as Thoran's hands determinedly edged her dress higher and higher. His hand reached to deftly rip away the soft material from between her legs and Sirah immediately cried out with scandalized alarm.

But Thoran resumed kissing her and Sirah fell back into blissful giddiness. One hand stroked her face as the other smoothed over the body, confidently kneading her breasts, sliding down to brazenly seize a soft, taut buttock.

The feel of her silky, firm flesh in his hand thrilled Thoran. She was innocent, untouched, with a mystic beauty distinct from any female he'd encountered. Sirah's light-green eyes enlarged with terror as he eagerly pressed forward. But nothing happened, and she exhaled with relief.

"Hmm..." Thoran shifted, frowning down her body with mild frustration.

Then he returned and their mouths hotly merged. Again, Sirah felt part of him searching to ravish her. This continued for a time until Thoran froze. Sirah watched him readjust his pants, retreat down her body and spread her legs, looking closely.

"So beautiful, Sirah", he breathed, his voice thickened with desire as she squirmed uncomfortably. Though admiring, he was also appraising her.

Sirah's face burned as Thoran moved intimately close, pausing mere centimetres from her most private area. She started then shivered, experiencing a new, indescribable sensation when he hungrily licked her.

The taste of Sirah's incredible nectar temporarily distracted Thoran, and he continued for a while, thrilled by the sounds of her gasps and soft panting. With some reluctance he remembered his purpose, and Sirah felt his mouth leave her and his fingers gently searching. Stroking, prying, poking, until finally he sat back and fixed her with an unreadable stare.

"I suppose this is the work of your father?" he drawled.

Startled and confused, Sirah shook her head.

There was a long silence as he waited. When Sirah's expression did not change, Thoran shrugged.

"No matter, little one," he said indifferently. But he breathed heavily, as though exerted.

Moving back up her body, he marvelled at her lovely face, her breathless awe of him. Though scared, Sirah knew he meant her no harm. But there remained the predicament of her captivity, his desire, and her reaction to his compelling energy.

Thoran kissed her cheek, her neck, her lips. Sirah sighed dizzily when his hands returned to her breasts, still covered in the gleaming blue material.

"I can be patient. Your people will come begging," he murmured. "I am counting on it."

**********

Thoran's prediction proved correct. Not one day had passed before he met two nymphs at the entrance of his home.

Unlike females nymphs, the males were not petite. They were about the size of an average man, but no match for a demon. Thoran towered over them, calmly observing their physiques, their tense hostility, before raising his eyebrows questioningly.

"We wish to speak with the Demon," Salan finally announced, his wings flittered nervously and he stilled them with an effort.

Thoran crossed his arms and smirked at the obvious. "Behold me."

Though clearly a demon, Thoran was very different to what they expected. Salan stared blankly at the polite inquiry on Thoran's charming face, his muscular bare chest, right down to his neatly sewn pants and bare feet, before recovering his senses.

"You have taken a nymph prisoner."

Thoran merely grinned.

"We request her return, and offer in exchange..."

"I have no interest to barter," Thoran interrupted. "I have a request of my own."

Salan choked, with no reply.

"I demand audience with Sirah's father," Thoran stated.

Noah and Salan exchanged a nervous glance. "Why?" Noah asked curiously.

Thoran showed his teeth in a wicked smile. "He knows why."

"But we have an orb!" Salan blurted, shakily unwrapping black velvet to reveal a teal object that glittered hypnotically.

Thoran gazed at it. "Those are very rare and precious," he remarked, uncrossing his arms and stepping closer for a better look. "I have never seen one before. Quite a treasure to part with."

"Release Sirah, and it is yours."

"I could slaughter you now, and keep it," Thoran smiled, his black eyes glinted demonically. The nymphs flinched but held their ground.

"We come with protection. The orb would be useless, if stolen," Salan promptly declared with far more courage than he felt.

"More protection." Thoran raised an eyebrow. "Quite a charm-spinner, this father of Sirah."

Noah and Salan looked perplexed. Thoran sighed impatiently.

"Your names?"

"Noah and Salan," Noah gestured between them, relieved the demon had been cordial so far. They might yet resolve the issue unscathed.

Thoran regally pressed a palm to his own wide chest. "My name is Thoran. Inform Sirah's father that I require his presence. No more messengers."

Noah and Salan descended into incredulous silence.

"B-but the orb?" Noah finally faltered. For any being, mystical or mortal, to refuse something so priceless was beyond comprehension.

Thoran eyed them grimly. He pointed to the sparkling object. "How many of these exist in the world?"

"Less than twenty," Salan proudly answered, cradling the treasure his hands. "Our offering is of immeasurable value."

"Indeed. Now tell me, how many half-caste nymphs with beauty such as hers, exist in this world?"

The nymph's triumphant faces quickly faded to sheer horror.

"Only one, I believe," Thoran silkily answered his own question. "How would you measure her value?"

There was an ugly silence.

"Now you know I have no interest in barter. I demand to see Sirah's father. He will come to me."

"How did you know her half-caste?" Salan ventured, and Thoran looked scornful.

"I knew almost from the beginning."

"Sirah must return with us! You cannot keep her!" Noah exclaimed, recklessly frustrated by a failure they never anticipated. A demon refusing an orb? It was ridiculous. Unheard of.

"Sirah is Royal," Thoran remarked, slowly crossing his arms again. "To offer such a ransom before demand, her blood must be noble."

Noah stiffened. Salan's jaw dropped before he unconvincingly shook his head.

"So careless with your nobility," Thoran taunted. "Now, I will care for her. In every way." He watched the nymphs recoil as they took his meaning. "I cannot breed with a mortal. Now I wonder..."

"Sirah is sacred!" Noah said sharply, his pale eyes flaring with outrage at the prospect. "She could never be with a..." he trailed off as Thoran angrily straightened to his full, intimidating height and stepped forward.

The nymphs braced for attack as Thoran's deadly gaze passed over them.

"Caution, Noah. Do not test my mercy," he said quietly, the ominous tone more unpleasant than if he shouted.

"Do not forget what I am. If Sirah's father does not come within three days' time, the next envoy to arrive will meet her wings nailed to the entry of my home."

Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the darkness.

**********

Devan slowed his glide, coming to stand before the entrance of Thoran's home.

"Thoran!" he shouted into the mouth of the cavern.

Moments later, Thoran emerged. The smug expectation on his handsome features immediately raised Devan's ire.

"I am Devan, Sirah's father. Release my daughter," Devan said coldly, concealing his shock that Thoran dressed like a mortal.

Satisfied, Thoran noted the visitor's distinct resemblance to Sirah. "No. Forfeit Sirah, and spare her a worse fate."

Aware he faced a very powerful entity, Devan perceptively ran his eyes over Thoran. The demon's speech was eloquent; his energy warned he would make a formidable enemy.

But astoundingly, as divulged by the others, Thoran was not malevolent. Despite this reassurance, his refusal to accept the orb was a sinister sign that he had no intention of ever releasing Sirah.

"I am told you refused the orb," Devan said icily.

"They did not lie."

"Reconsider. Be mindful it is unlikely you will possess anything of such value in your lifetime."

Thoran's smile widened. "Are you quite certain?"

"I warn you now, demon-!" Devan snarled, stepping forward. A swirling, murky blue haze formed around each clenched fist.

"Yes, I am a demon," Thoran cut in, unthreatened by Devan's power. "And for the sake of your daughter, you would do well to remember it."

"You lie," Devan returned, his eyes burning jade. "You will not hurt her. I see your true nature. You are different from your brothers."