Captured Ch. 03

Under Thoran's careful watch, Sirah sullenly weaved a web in her prison. Again trapped behind Devil's Mist, she knew every passing second drew her closer to being bound as the Demon's mate.

The room imprisoning Sirah was well-sized and surprisingly comfortable for underground. The walls were coloured a gentle blue to give the environment a lighter, more cheerful appearance, and there was a pond of sparkling fresh water that any nymph would love to be near. The bed Sirah sat upon was soft and large. The only disconcerting aspect was that it was large enough to also accommodate Thoran.

"Will you speak to me, little one?" Thoran asked, observing her with an indulgent smile.

Sirah didn't answer and glared down as the sparkling web became irksomely tangled between her fingers. No longer afraid for her safety, she was now trapped in an unsettling future with a demon. Her slender shoulders tensed every time she felt the insistent twinge of her wings, unused to the forced confinement against her back.

The web in her hands hardened to a stiff, knotted bundle, much like her new restrictive life. Sirah cast the ruined trap aside with some distress, and began to design another.

Thoran turned to check on a bubbling cauldron, eyeing it with satisfaction before turning his attention back to the alluring creature he'd captured.

"Are you not grateful I spared your virtue?" he tried again to break her silence, his eyes dark with frustration and desire.

Sirah made a petulant sound and worked more fiercely on the new web.

Thoran thoughtfully raised his chin. He could use his lure and make her desire him. He could frighten her into submission. These tactics were a demon's nature, after all, but he found the dark energy tiring and bothersome.

Besides, Sirah's spoiled, innocent demeanour was as amusing as it was tantalising. For anything to hold his interest for long was a rarity, and he was certainly not growing bored of her.

"Spared, thus far," Sirah finally muttered, still refusing to look at him. Her pale-green eyes brightened with angst and new tears. "How my father could..." she angrily shook her head and swallowed a sob.

"It was his only way to protect you. He has wisdom worthy of a King," Thoran mused, linking his fingers together as Sirah adorably grit her teeth.

Finally she rolled the newly ruined web toward a shimmering pile of failed attempts, and sighed.

"I want my wings back," she complained.

"You have them," Thoran answered, before laughing at his little joke.

"I want them free," Sirah hissed, clawing at the soft blanket of her bed.

"Look to me, and ask," he replied.

Sirah stared stonily at the blanket, and Thoran felt a ribbon of pleasure coil within him as he watched her, wondering whether he could truly wait until she was bound to him before taking her.

"Very well," Thoran continued. "I prefer you become acquainted with these surroundings first. And I do not want them to interfere with..."

In an instant, Thoran leapt to his feet as a spurt of red brightly dashed across Sirah's blanket.

"You little fool," he growled, quickly crossing through the mist. He seized her wrists before she could press the jagged piece deeper into her chest.

Sirah faintly cried out as Thoran swiftly extracted the silver weapon and immediately placed his large hand across her breast. The flow of blood ceased, and Sirah moaned as the wound painfully sealed.

"This will scar for a while. A fine sight to present your father!" Thoran thundered, keeping his hand against her skin. "I keep my word. He will not fear for your welfare."

Sirah wriggled uncomfortably, irked by the beguiling effect of his nearness.

"Nymph magic is impish, not malicious. How did you craft the weapon?" he demanded to know, but Sirah paid him no attention.

"I am not sure what you know of my kind," he continued, clearly fighting his temper. "Demons can heal, and they can resurrect. These are not pleasant things to endure," he growled, pressing his hand for emphasis.

"Whatever you do, you won't escape me. I will bring you back and each time you force my hand, you will lose part of your essence. All that you will gain from the endeavour is humiliation and suffering," he added, though wondered if he would really proceed with an act so callous.

The demons' ability to resurrect was not a kind inclination. It was another cruel trick to prolong suffering, until eventually the victim returned as an empty shell of their former self. Even at that point, the victim could still feel physical pain. Demon's often practiced this dark pastime when leisure was abundant and sport was scarce.

"Leave me!" Sirah wept, feebly tugging at his hand.

Thoran didn't budge and watched her fiercely, angered by the startling fear she just caused him. "To hurt yourself, to prematurely end your life, is futile. Do you understand?"

Sirah reluctantly nodded.

"If you succeed, Sirah, I will bring you back and tie you so that every limb is restricted. Do you understand? Look at me," he said sharply, finally withdrawing his palm from where a furrowed pink scar had formed. It was pale pink, a shade slightly fairer than her rosy lips, and he wanted to kiss both places.

With her body still tingling with something other than anguish, Sirah stubbornly fixed her eyes on his large, bare chest before her face. He was bigger and more muscular than any nymph or mortal she'd ever seen. The idea this male intended to mate with her, made her feel faint with dread.

"Sirah?" Thoran quietly warned. The ominous tone of his voice compelled her to uneasily return his stare. "Do not fool yourself. We belong to each other."

"I am not bound to you, yet!" she sniped, shrinking away from him.

"Not yet," Thoran said softly, his tone suave as she began to affect him. "But once you are..."

"If you can heal, why not free my wings?" Sirah persisted, feeling alarmed as he became distracted by her body. His large hands began to move over her, tracing down her waist with a gentle pressure that made her heart flutter.

"Thoran! Thoran, wait!" she shrilly begged as his black eyes burned lustfully, enthralled by her lovely features.

The next moment he was atop her again, pressing her back to the bed. Holding her down, Thoran's lips slowly trailed up her neck, his teeth pulled her earlobe and his mouth kissed past her hairline to where he deeply inhaled the scent of her long, light blonde tresses.

"You've bewitched me, Sirah," he murmured against the silky strands, then chuckled at his private joke.

Finally he pulled back and admired the new colour in her cheeks, her quick inhalations as she tried to catch her breath and appear indifferent. Noticing his scrutiny, her eyes shamefully lowered until Thoran gently pinched her chin, guiding her to look at him.

"I release no charm to tempt you. You respond on your own, Sirah," he said gravely, as though delivering a hard truth. "When our time comes, the pleasure will take your breath away and you will never want it to cease."

Before she could utter denial, he moved close again to feel her slender figure shudder against him with reluctant desire. Thoran felt her thighs edging apart beneath him, and was certain she hadn't realised. Conscious of his own magnetism, there was a growing awareness that he was becoming addicted to Sirah's entrancing aura.

"Sirah, if I release your wings, will you promise not to harm yourself?" he whispered against her full mouth, lips parting invitingly at his proximity.

"I have a journey to make. I must leave you alone and trust you not to be foolish," he confided, smiling tenderly at her dazed expression. It was hardly the first time he'd seduced a female, but somehow Sirah's reactions captivated him as if she was his very first.

When she hesitated, he brushed his lips across hers convincingly. "Accept your lot with me, and I will teach you what your kind never dared. You were made for greater things than to be a kept Princess. Can I trust you?"

Sirah hesitated before slowly nodding. Thoran's hand stroked through her hair and down her neck, lingering at her chest. Then he leaned in and kissed the new scar on her breast.

Sirah gasped at the strange tingling that flowed from the point of injury. It was unusual and slightly discomforting, but not unpleasant. She wanted to feel it again, just to gauge the new sensation.

After warmly watching her confusion, Thoran became serious.

"I have preparations to make, and rules for you to abide. For your safety," he added, as Sirah showed new signs of petulance.

"What preparations?" Sirah asked, shocked by her breathlessness. Thoran chuckled at it.

"For your provision. And should visitors come."

"Visitors?" Sirah asked, unable to hide the hope in her voice.

"None that would aid your escape. My brothers - malevolents," Thoran forebodingly clarified. "I hope to return before they arrive, but may not."

Sirah timidly looked away as Thoran pulled her to a sitting position before smoothing his palms down her back where her wings neatly folded. A moment later, Sirah felt them extend, and her sudden childlike joy brought a smile to Thoran's face. He crossed through the mist and watched Sirah prance about the room, the glimmering tones of rainbow blurring prettily at her slender back.

"That is better," she sighed out loud, forgetting Thoran's amused perusal. As it came to her attention, the radiance on her face reddened to a blush.

"Thank you," she said shyly, with real gratitude.

"My pleasure," he grinned, and Sirah's cheeks burned a deeper shade by the tone of his voice, now fully aware that she was indeed his pleasure.

***********

As the messenger approached the great doors of Devan's residence, they burst open before he could announce himself. Devan bore down upon the startled young nymph, his face drawn and anxious.

"Who sends tidings? Is it of Sirah? Speak!"

"I- yes," the nymph blinked rapidly. "Thoran has... um..."

"What!" Devan shouted, losing his temper. "What has he done? Is she hurt?"

"No. H-He forbids visitors for six days," the nymph whispered back, terrified. "None are permitted to approach his land in that time. Not even you."

"Why?"

The nymph shook his head mysteriously. "He did not say, only that it was for the safety of all."

"The safety of all!" Devan bitterly repeated. His magnificent, blue-black wings had noticeably lost much of their purple tones in Sirah's absence, and were so taut they looked ready to snap.

"You could have accompanied me," the messenger nymph said pointedly, at the same time taking a tentative step back as Devan glared at him.

"I will not see her until after the binding, and that has yet to pass."

"Why does he wait?"

"I have no idea," Devan spat, though he was beginning to suspect a reason. He frowned at his feet as his mind whirred. "He has her now..." he muttered, wringing his hands. "There is no contest. But now we must stay away? I can think of only two reasons, though who knows the whims of a demon..."

"Reasons for what?" Noah pried, having just arrived to catch the Devan's last words.

"The demon has temporarily banished us from his land. For our welfare, he would have us believe." Devan took a deep breath. "If she were dead, I would know. I praise the sky for the small mercy."

"Thoran has not yet bound her?" Noah frowned, disrupting Devan's thoughts. "Why?"

"There is a possible reason." Devan looked meaningfully at Noah, while the messenger nymph stared curiously between them.

Noah drew a deep breath. "You told him?"

"Their kind are cunning. He realised soon enough."

"And now? What does this mean?"

"I believe..." Devan murmured, his green eyes troubled. "I believe Thoran is planning a journey. And he will leave Sirah unguarded."

"But if she is not bound, we could rescue her!" Noah exclaimed. "His threat is empty-"

"Not if his brothers arrive," Devan softly interrupted. "On Demon soil, it would be easy slaughter for them."

"But-"

"An agreement has been made, under dire circumstances. But an agreement, nonetheless. I cannot risk committing an act of treachery that would put my daughter at risk or cause unnecessary deaths. Much as I wish to turn Thoran to dust, he takes his oath seriously. I must keep my end of the bargain. Distasteful as the situation has become, Thoran is not one to make idle threats."

"What does the demon know?" the messenger nymph curiously intruded, flinching as Devan turned on him.

"You have delivered your message. You may leave and inform the others of the warning," he growled. "Strengthen our borders. Outward travel must cease for six days. No nymph is to leave the safety of these surrounds, and there will be no exceptions to this rule."

**********

Three very tall figures of men came to stand before Thoran's abode.

"Thoran!" one bellowed, cupping two large hands by the sides of his mouth. The fierce shout echoed dauntingly underground, with no answer.

"Where is he?" another snarled, sniffing at the air. "Food. He prepared for us."

The third demon smiled coldly. "The great Thoran dallies with mortal women."

"Aye, Scarn, and you crawled between the thighs of one just now," Plyon scoffed, annoyed by the criticism. With no retort Scarn shrugged, looking bored.

Together they made their way into the formidable cavern. All three, like Thoran, were misleadingly attractive versions of men; predators designed to entice and destroy innocence. Plyon and Vertar swaggered ungracefully ahead, while Scarn followed behind with more cautious agility.

Plyon and Vertar were blood brothers, with ice-blue eyes and lengthy, unkempt light blonde hair. Scarn was tallest of the three, with dark hair and black eyes like Thoran. Though uncropped, he kept it tidier than his fellow demons. They were all naked, save for a strip of leather about their waists to flimsily conceal their nudity. Demons preferred nakedness, but it was easier to catch more difficult prey if they maintained some appearance of decency.

"Agh!" Vertar lifted his foot with disgust after stepping into a shallow pond. Opening his mouth to growl complaint, his voice abandoned him as he stared around.

"Thoran..." Plyon began, but words also failed him.

"Has clearly lost his senses," Scarn finished the sentence, sneering at the change in environment and wondering how much softer Thoran could possibly become whilst still calling himself a demon.

"Feast!" Vertar suddenly roared. Carefully avoiding other pools of water, he and his blood brother advanced to the table, piled high with preserved meats.

"Halt." Scarn's eyes curiously scanned the area, alerted to an unfamiliar, delectable scent. "We are not alone."

"Trust Thoran, for once, and be done with warnings," Plyon growled, collapsing at the table and reaching for food.

Scarn sniffed the air again, his handsome features perplexed. "It's not possible..." he mused staring around. "A creature so foolish to...?" he breathed, his mind darkly racing. After pausing for a stunned moment, he vanished in a blur of movement.

"Don't like his strangeness," Plyon gruffly complained with a mouthful of food.

Vertar gulped down more meat and cleared his throat. "He's clever."

Plyon shrugged. "Trickery. He's not like us."

"Thoran is the same."

"I like him better. Scarn is traitorous."

"If Scarn hears you..."

"Bah!" Plyon made a dismissive gesture, and gave the food his full attention.

*********

Sirah heard a light step, and sensed a new presence. She sat up in her bed and looked to the mist, wondering if Thoran returned early. Though she couldn't see anything, she felt a strong urgency to remain still and silent.

On the other side of the mist, Scarn interestedly perused the barrier, unable to see the other side. Whatever was there must be very precious, to compel Thoran to conceal it from the sight of his brothers. Scarn sensed it was something living. Something innocent and delicious that Thoran had stowed for later. Something Scarn would like to ravage before taking apart piece by piece...

"Why do I wait?" he smiled thinly, stepping to the whirling smoke obstructing his view.

As soon as his bare foot planted within the smoke, he was violently thrown backward. On the other side, Sirah gasped as the cloudy barrier indignantly shuddered.

"A mist against demons? I'll rip your throat out, Thoran!" Scarn snarled, dusting fragment of stone from his legs and readying to take on the challenge.

Instead of trying to enter the mist, he placed both palms outside of it and closed his eyes, his striking features flexed with concentration.

For a long moment, nothing happened. With his jaw clenched, Scarn persevered until finally, the mist murkily swirled and slowly turned transparent. With breathless wonder, Scarn dropped his hands and gazed upon Sirah's unusual beauty, taking in her wide, innocent eyes, and small rainbow wings.

Then his eyes moved over the gleaming blue dress, fitted to her delectable form like a sheath, down her slender legs to her dainty small feet. Recovering from a stunned speechlessness that he hadn't experienced in many decades, the shock on Scarn's face quickly morphed into a charismatic smile.

"You are very lovely. What is your name?" he asked pleasantly. His deep voice richly thrummed with deceptive charm.

Trembling with terror, Sirah didn't answer. The handsome demon beamed at her nervous silence, and Sirah discovered that Thoran truly was different from his kind. Perhaps Thoran was wicked and forceful, but the demon leering at her was very malevolent.

His dangerous presence triggered Sirah's instincts from the outset, long before the mist's visual block dissipated. Now, she fully understood Thoran's precautions and warnings, and was very grateful for them.

"Of course, you are shy," the new demon purred, in a tone that dripped with kind reassurance. But his black eyes glinted with something far from kindness.

"My name is Scarn. I am Thoran's blood brother," he introduced himself with a lie. After a tentative pause, he continued. "It is not custom to greet brothers through a barrier," he gently chided.

Still furious at being blocked from prey, Scarn wondered how Thoran managed to singlehandedly capture a beautiful nymph. More importantly, he pondered how to get past the mist. Perhaps the mist was only for him. There was one way to find out.

As the thought formed in his twisted mind, Scarn grinned before extending his arm to direct a substantial amount of desire to Sirah that would have driven ten mortal women running his direction.

"Uh..." Sirah frowned, alarmed, as she was unexpectedly hit by a feeling, an invisible sensation that immediately compelled her to stand and step toward the barrier. It was very strong, and Sirah recognised it as similar to how she felt when Thoran was close to her.

With Thoran, it was refreshingly natural. Clearly he spoke the truth about his ability -- he hadn't unleashed it on her. He never directed a falsely constructed urge toward her as this demon did. Scarn's lure was harshly compelling and created a strong, addictive yearning within Sirah that was unpleasant to endure. But it was a powerful desire nonetheless.

But Sirah closed her eyes and controlled herself, not coming any closer though her body screamed for her to go to the new demon, to gift herself to him and satisfy his every whim. Opening her eyes, she saw Scarn's arms lowered and his jaw slightly ajar with astonishment. Then he frowned, his inquisitive gaze travelled from her flawless face, to the unique wings nervously fluttering behind her.

"What are you?" he asked softly. "Not even a nymph could resist the lure within this range."

Sirah's provocative silence began to irk him. Scarn wanted her to talk, to hear a voice undoubtedly as sweet as her appearance. He no longer craved to act with cruel violence, but there was a definite craving nonetheless.