Captured Ch. 05

I should warn this chapter is more risqué than the others with new demons on the scene. I mean in my typical non-con way (nothing gruesome). Hope you like this one, and thanks for voting and commenting.

~I write for pleasure; I post for joy~

********

Sirah screamed in pain. Her eyes flew open, and she strained against the demon holding her down.

"Thoran, stop!" she cried, struggling.

"Be still, Sirah!" He grunted, cruelly wrapping her long, blonde hair about his hand. "I must do this!"

"It hurts! Let me go!"

Sirah frantically twisted under him, gasping for breath whilst Thoran's large hand urgently searched for her buzzing wings. Then Sirah was forced on her back to face him.

"Thoran! You're hurting me!" she shrieked. But he ignored her, and jerked their foreheads together.

"I bind you to me, Sirah!" he growled, his dark eyes wide with panic. "I..."

"No!" Sirah snarled.

With horror, Thoran's voice died as a ring of red fluidly encompassed Sirah's pale-green irises. Before he could continue, he was thrown off her and hit the opposite wall with a force that took his breath away.

Briefly shaking his head to recover, he lunged toward Sirah, and was thrown back again.

Winded, Thoran groaned and opened his eyes. Sirah stood over him, staring with a look devoid of any affection or familiarity. As though they were strangers.

"Sirah, please!" Thoran pleaded. "I must bind you again!"

"No," she said emotionlessly, still gazing at him. The red faded from her irises, but her light green eyes filled with contempt. Without another word, she turned and walked away.

"Where are you going!" Thoran roared, angered by his physical weakness.

Sirah's scornful reply floated back from the cavern entrance, the sweet tone of her lovely voice in contrast to the coldness of her words. "To find a demon worthy of me."

Thoran crawled after her. "Sirah!" he shouted hoarsely.

Summoning the strength to stand, he staggered out, raising a hand to shield his face from the blinding sun. With her colourful wings sharply taut, Sirah stood with her back to him, boldly surveying the landscape.

"Sirah, please! Listen to to me-!" Thoran seized her shoulder and turned her.

It wasn't Sirah. Her mother, the witch, glared accusingly, her long purple hair streaked with ruinous black.

"What have you spawned, demon?" she sneered.

The anger on her face rapidly dissolved to terror. "Thoran, what have you done?" she fearfully whispered, tears poured down her cheeks.

What have you done?

What have you done?

What have you done?

Thoran seized the witch's slender shoulders.

"WHERE IS SIRAH?" he screamed.

Jerking awake, Thoran stared around frantically, his temples dripping sweat. Realising Sirah slept peacefully beside him, he breathed a deep sigh of relief. Running a shaking hand through his hair, Thoran lay back, panting. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a dream. Or any dream.

Sirah stirred, nestling closer. Carefully angling his arm between her wings, Thoran drew her against him, and the silken rainbow sheets curled about his large bicep in a featherlike embrace. Slowly, Sirah's nearness soothed his unsettled wakening.

"I don't care what she said," he muttered breathlessly into Sirah's soft, blonde hair. "I can't live without you. It was just a dream." He kissed her forehead and took a deep, shuddering breath. "It was just a dream."

But even with the blissful relief of the vision being mere fantasy, the witch's true words flashed through Thoran's mind to directly connect with the nightmare.

Should death befall Sirah, do not resurrect her.

Thoran sighed harshly and shook off his emotions. Before he could rouse Sirah with kisses, his eyes sharpened, and he abruptly sat up.

Startled from sleep as she slipped from his chest, Sirah blinked up at Thoran, who was now on his feet and looking very alarmed.

"W-What is it?" she whispered nervously, but Thoran held up a hand, keenly listening to something Sirah could not decipher.

Then he ran from the room, and Sirah turned in time to see a thick wall of devil's mist rise up behind him.

**********

"He comes," Marun smiled, as Thoran quickly emerged.

"Brothers?" he enquired, warily looking between Marun and Tareg. Though his voice was casual, he was clearly unnerved.

"Aye, it is us, Thoran," Tareg gently inclined his head. "We have come to congratulate you. And behold our new sister."

Realising his oversight, Thoran's face fell. Despite being estranged, they were the same blood. Of course they would know.

"She is sleeping," Thoran said tersely, crossing his own arms.

Marun and Tareg exchanged a bored look.

"Thoran," Marun sighed, stepping forward in a conciliatory manner. "Our journey was long. We have a right to see her."

Thoran looked away angrily. "I will not return to war."

"The war continues without us, as you see," Tareg said roughly. "We are not here to bicker about your choices. But you have taken a mate, we will meet the one whom we would protect."

"She does not need your protection!" Thoran growled, though wasn't entirely sure of his words. Marun noticed.

"Our blood decrees it so. But something has already happened," he softly surmised. "I have never seen you worried."

Agitated, Thoran uneasily scratched at the nape of his neck while his brothers patiently waited.

"Very well," Thoran said sourly, glaring at them. "But if either of you dare-!"

"Do not insult us. Why should we be tempted?" Tareg cut him off, disgusted. "Exquisite as your choice may be, we can find our own prey."

Marun nodded, also offended by the implication.

Thoran cast his eyes to the darkening sky. "Hold to your words." Then he signalled them into his abode, and left in search of Sirah.

Tareg and Marun waited in a silence brimming with tension, both brothers very unimpressed by the change in Thoran. But something in the air quickly altered, and when Thoran returned with his mate, they immediately straightened with fresh alertness.

Thoran firmly took Sirah's hand. "My mate, Sirah. Sirah, these are my blood-brothers, Tareg and Marun."

Tremulously nodding her greeting, Sirah shyly returned their inquisitive stares, lightly blushing as she felt two pairs of eyes sharply scrutinise her lovely face and slowly move down her gleaming tight dress to her pretty bare feet. Marun was particularly captivated by the rainbow glimmer of her wings.

Thoran's brothers lightly resembled him, far more than Scarn, who falsely claimed to be a blood-brother. With short black hair like Thoran, Tareg appeared a fearsome warrior. Though strikingly handsome, his strong features and brooding black eyes created a formidable impression.

Marun was almost beautiful, with large, gentle brown eyes and shining long hair neatly draped over his shoulders. He was, like the others, supremely muscular, with only a particular glint in his eyes to warn of danger.

Perhaps most confronting for Sirah, was that they were unashamedly naked. Even Scarn and his companions were mildly covered from full nudity. Thoran was always shirtless, but chose to wear pants, which Sirah was first grateful for, but now considered a great hindrance to her desires.

"Greetings, Sirah," the alluring brothers spoke in unison, their deep voices echoed in a way that sent a pleasurable thrill over Sirah's skin.

"We almost lost faith in you, Thoran," Tareg mused. He stepped forward, his hand reached to stroke Sirah's hair.

"Do not touch her." Thoran spoke with quiet menace.

Tareg's lowered his arm, his eyes alight with challenge. "Are we not entitled?"

"Now, now," Marun calmly interjected, before they could argue. "It is the way of the world, Thoran. Do you deny that if she was in trouble, you would not summon us?"

Thoran's jaw clenched. After the confrontation with Scarn, he knew it would be foolish to turn them away.

"We may not be on the terms of most blood-brothers, but that does not deem us untrustworthy," Tarun said curtly.

Marun and Tareg took a moment to observe Sirah from a respectful distance.

"Do you feel it too, brother?" Tareg quietly murmured to Marun.

Marun briskly nodded affirmation and looked sharply at Thoran. "What is she?"

"One of a kind," Thoran answered evasively, with a warning look.

Tareg smirked. "Secrecy already, Thoran? Hardly a good start with your mate."

Confused, Sirah looked up at Thoran. "What does he mean?"

Thoran shrugged, his eyes blazed. "Things we will discuss later, Sirah. Do not mind them."

"Aye, do not mind the kin of your mate," Tareg said tartly, his face a cross between contempt and amusement. "Needless to say, you do not disappoint. It will be an honour to defend you, should the need arise."

"The need is quite inevitable," Marun dryly predicted, his eyes raked Sirah's tempting beauty whilst her aura scratched at his desire. "And with a voice like music... She must be a siren?"

Tareg tilted his head. "Impossible. She has wings. And Sirens died out centuries ago."

"Thank heavens for that," Marun chuckled.

"I'm a nymph!" Sirah declared with some exasperation.

Again, she looked to Thoran for answers, her eyes narrowed with frustration. "Scarn asked, too. Why do demons question what I am?"

"Aye, dear brother, enlighten us all," Tareg mocked.

"You encountered Scarn?" Marun probed, very interested. "And escaped unscathed?"

"I returned before he trespassed further," Thoran snapped.

"Needing our protection so early, brother?" Tareg chuckled, but Marun was serious.

"What happened with Scarn?" he questioned.

Thoran looked grim. "He visited whilst I was gone. He tried to bind her."

"He...He tried to bind her?" Marun repeated incredulously, looking at Sirah. "At first encounter?"

Tareg and Marun exchanged a quick glance. "Scarn is a valuable warrior, but he is trouble. If he is fixed on your mate, we must end him. It is a treacherous path, but with the three of us together, it will be an easy feat."

Thoran winced. "Plyon and Vertar were witness."

Tareg groaned. "Why did you leave her alone, without binding her first? Why did she not journey with you?"

Thoran could feel Sirah's inquisitive gaze burning one side of his cheek. "I had reason."

"Our own journey was long, and we would rest," Marun said, shrewdly looking between Sirah's confusion and Thoran's guilty face. "I suggest you reconsider your secretive nature, Thoran. It could be the undoing of us all." He paused. "We will remain until Scarn makes his move, which he will."

Thoran nodded his gratitude.

Silence fell, and Sirah felt something cloud her energy. The three blood-brothers continued to stare at each other. Then she realised.

They were conversing, but Thoran blocked her from his mind.

*******

Whilst Thoran saw to his guests' comfort, Sirah angrily flounced onto the bed. When her mate finally appeared, she did not look at him.

"Come, little one," he sighed, hands on hips. "Do not sulk."

"You're keeping things from me," she grumbled, plucking at the soft blanket.

Thoran sat beside her and he reached to stroke her wings, but they pointedly evaded his touch.

"Sirah, you don't trust me anymore?"

"What did you tell your brothers, when you struck me from your mind?" she scowled.

Thoran smiled at her choice of words. "I would never strike you, Sirah." He lightly stroked her jaw, and shivered with desire. "Ask your questions, and I will answer them."

"Why can demons not see I'm nymph?"

"Because you are only part-nymph."

"Because my wings are so small?" she snapped with heated insecurity, jerking her face from his caressing hand.

"No. Because you are half-witch."

Sirah started, all trace of petulance gone. "W-What? But...But that's impossible! That would mean my father...?"

"Aye, little one."

After an unsettling pause, Sirah stubbornly shook her head. "You lie."

"Do you feel that I lie, Sirah?"

Afraid to tap into his energy, she looked away. "It can't be."

Thoran shrugged. "It is why I could not ravish you that first time. It is why I waited to bind you. It is why you were forbidden to leave your lands for the rest of your life."

Remembering the days, hours, years that she angrily pondered her unfair restrictions, whilst every other nymph could travel, his words rang true. "My people could not protect me?"

"You were protected in nymph territory. But that brings me to the next disclosure, which you may have already guessed."

Sirah had no idea, and waited for him to continue.

"You draw evil creatures toward you."

Sirah flushed. "My father said I was uncommonly pretty."

"Aye," Thoran admitted with a grin. "But the world is filled with lovely things. You entice with more than the eye. If you left your territory with escort, you would likely be their very demise."

"Oh," she breathed. It made her feel slightly better that she was restricted to protect her people. She would never endanger a nymph.

"Demons feel lust, like all creatures. But they do not yearn for any particular." Thoran looked at her meaningfully. "I yearn for you, Sirah. As did Scarn. All of them, my blood-brothers included, feel your charms. I believe you affect demons on different scales. Unless you use your lure. I am confident you could ensnare any demon if you applied it with purpose."

Sirah frowned. "A lure? How could I have a lure? I don't-"

"Oh, believe me, you have a lure," Thoran wryly interrupted, remembering how her forceful energy almost immobilised him when he took her virginity. "I will guide you to use it better."

"Is my mother truly dead?" Sirah asked suddenly.

"No." Thoran sighed heavily. "But when or if she is ready to see you, trust me, she will."

"Have you met her?" Sirah watched him suspiciously, an angry flush filled her cheeks at his telling silence.

In a rage, she raised to her knees to confront him. Before she could shout, the invisible collar manifested, and she fell back. Thoran looked foreboding.

"I will see to your needs as best I can. But do not forget that I am your master, by the binding and your own words. Do not mistake me for a weak sap who you can bully to your will, Sirah, because you will discover a side of me that we both regret."

Sirah sullenly curled her knees to her chest, and Thoran peered at her stormy face. "Shall I leave you alone tonight?"

Sirah wanted to send him away, for the sake of their argument. But she did not want him to leave, for the sake of her own satisfaction. A night without Thoran's kisses and caresses seemed too cold and long to endure over upsetting aspects that weren't of his making.

"Well?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. "Answer me."

"No, Master," she pouted, her pulse already racing with anticipation. "I want you to stay."

Thoran's stern expression melted to warm desire. "I have a question for you."

Sirah begrudgingly wriggled closer to him.

"The blade you formed, when you tried to kill yourself. How did you do it?"

Sirah's brow furrowed. "I was making trick-webs. I've formed such shapes before but...I suppose I was very upset at the time."

"That you were," Thoran smiled, kissing her cheek. Immediately her full mouth turned eagerly toward him, but Thoran held himself just out of reach.

"Do you know what I will teach you first, little one?" he spoke huskily against her lips. Sirah breathlessly shook her head.

"The size of your wings matters little, with the power inside you," he murmured. "I will teach you to glide like a nymph should. Possibly better."

Then he hungrily kissed her, his hands quickly worked to remove her dress. Giddy with excitement from his touch and his promise, Sirah urgently cooperated. Now completely naked, she kissed him feverishly as her small hands fumbled with the front of his pants.

Admiring her nudity, Thoran lay back and watched her release him. Every time, she marvelled at his size, and Thoran loved the way she stared wonderingly at his cock in her small hands, before giving herself to him.

His dark eyes glowed with unspoken lust as Sirah excitedly played with him, casting mischievous glances his direction, a light flush of demure indulgence reddening her elegant cheekbones.

Growing impatient, Thoran reached for her, his hands cupped and kneaded the soft curves of her breasts, before settling on her hips. Sirah squeaked with surprise, losing grip on his member as she was abruptly lifted.

Sirah gripped the stones on the wall for support, her knees resting on Thoran's wide shoulders. With a lusty chuckle, he jerked her forward, and she collapsed, the apex of her thighs connecting with his face. Then his large hands each encompassed a taut buttock, and indulgently squeezed.

"Oh!" Sirah's eyes widened and her wings buzzed approval as Thoran's mouth hotly opened against her core, his tongue teased, tickled, swirled about her wet nectar, and lithely entered her. Gasping, she bucked against his face.

"Yes!" she moaned, arching against the wall. "Yes, Master, yes!"

*******

On the other side of that very wall, Thoran's handsome blood-brothers lay on their backs staring broodingly at the ceiling.

"Do they know we can hear?" Tareg complained, determinedly not touching his straining cock.

"Unlikely, but much they'd care. If Sirah was my mate, I would not," Marun replied.

"How is it that she tempts us?" Tareg said testily. "We're the predators. We do not yearn."

"We yearn now, brother," Marun moodily answered.

"He would never share her with us?" Tarag pondered, with a desperate edge to his voice.

"Not this decade!" Marun said harshly, feeling his own desire simmering at the erotic image of all three of them taking Sirah at once. If only Thoran embraced demon culture.

Marun's wistful musings were interrupted when Tareg angrily leapt to his feet, his usually tidy short hair stood on end with frustration.

"Have you lost your senses?" Marun snapped, braced to tackle his blood-brother.

"No!" Tarun savagely answered. "But if I do not find a way to allay this," he furiously pointed between his legs, "then I certainly will!"

Sighing with relief, Marun dropped back to his sleep-space. For a few more seconds he tolerated Sirah's delighted squeals, her sweet voice breathlessly pleading for more. Accepting his limits, Marun's jaw fiercely clenched.

"Curse you, Thoran!" he snarled, roughly securing his gleaming brown hair at the nape of his neck. Jumping to his feet, he left the cavern to follow Tareg.

It didn't take long for Marun to find him some miles away, in a lone, grassy field. Tareg frowned, his arms extended to the wilderness fringed by thick forest.

"We shall not have to share, brother," Tareg spoke without averting his gaze. "There are two tonight."

"Fruitful lands," Marun remarked, standing by Tareg's side. "No wonder Thoran settled here."

"Now he has no need to hunt fruit," Tareg replied sardonically, but held up his hand to stop Marun's reply. "One is mortal. The other...I do not know."

The mortal woman quickly stumbled into view, and made a running beeline for Tareg. With coarse black hair and a kindly face, she was dressed for fruit-picking, in a plain grey frock stained with juice.

"I am so sorry," she gasped, clutching a stitch in her side. Unfazed by the brothers' lack of clothes, her black eyes raked their chiselled, muscular forms. "Oh...um...I don't know why...?"

"Rest easy. We know," Marun smiled reassuringly, and the woman's fear was somewhat alleviated by his more gentle features. With a restless sigh, she sank to the ground and waited.

Scowling, Tareg held up his hand for silence. "I need your help with this one, brother," he murmured.

Very intrigued, Marun extended his arms alongside Tareg. A moment later, a figure staggered from the safety of the trees, loudly cursing. She was tall and slender, with very long red hair braided tightly down her back. She clutched a bow in one hand, and seemed unable to grasp an arrow from the quiver across her back.