Once It Gets Dark Ch. 06

He smelled so good! I caressed his soft lips with mine, and he responded by pulling me tightly against him, his hand on the small of my back. Feeling the strength in his muscular arms as he was trapping me almost made me lose my nerves again.

'Don't think, just let his scent carry you away!' I tried to remind myself.

A part of me yearned for the sweet haziness of his venom after the sting, just to stop my racing thoughts and make it easier to relax into him.

And then I knew what I had to do. I opened my mouth against his and pushed my tongue between his lips, parting them. His taste made my mouth water, and I felt myself getting wet for him already, even before I had taken the venom from his tongue.

But the General stiffened and pulled his head back just enough to break the kiss. He gave me a quizzical look, making sure that I was aware of what I was doing. I looked him deeply in the eyes and nodded. He gave me a dangerous smile of appreciation, and I knew that he understood.

"Brave girl," he whispered, his black eyes burning into mine. "You have no idea how much I would love to make you lose your mind on my venom and then fuck the last bit of sense out of you until the only thought you can form is my name now that you finally know who I really am."

He ran his thumb over my lips, and I saw that he was shaking a bit from restraint.

"But I fear I have quite worn you out already, and I would hate to break my new toy on the first night.

"Come." He led me to a sitting area with a small table, the only real piece of furniture in the tent, and motioned for me to sit down on one of the cushions surrounding it.

It was really quite comfortable, and I could feel the instant relief in my tense body. I realized how right he had been--I was completely exhausted.

I looked up at him, and his eyes narrowed as he saw the bloodstains on my shirt. My hand had still not stopped bleeding.

He went over to one of several wooden chests that stood in front of the tent's walls and took out a little leather satchel and what seemed to be a uniform shirt. He ripped the shirt twice with ease, as if the tick fabric were made out of paper, and came back to me. I gave him a suspicious look when he stretched out his arm.

"Give me your hand." He pointed his chin at my injured palm. I did, and he crouched down next to me.

I inhaled and shut my eyes as his closeness sent shivers through my body. Why did he always have this effect on me?

"I know," he said grudgingly as he took something looking like soft gray moss out of the satchel and placed it on my wound. "I feel it, too."

He proceeded to wrap the cloth around the padded wound in a makeshift bandage, and my hand felt better instantly.

"Thank you," I said, looking over the fact that it was him who had cut me in the first place.

He got up.

"Stay," he ordered, and left the tent in one swift movement.

I looked surprisedly at my hand; he had actually bandaged it pretty neatly. I heard him talking outside of the tent, laughing with somebody; it was such a normal sound, like friends having a conversation. Friends... My heart clenched as I remembered the look on my roommate's face when the General had taken me. He must be worried to death. I got up and quickly went to my tote, which lay crumpled on the floor on the opposite side of the tent next to what I guessed to be the sleeping area: a thick layer of different animal furs covered with blankets.

I rummaged around inside my tote, cursing its messiness for the second time tonight while I was looking for my phone. When my fingers finally touched the plastic case, I paused. I could still hear him right outside the door. The General could come back in any second, and I didn't dare risk being discovered; my phone was the only tiny hope I had, my only connection to the human world. So I just felt for the power button and pressed it until a slight vibration confirmed that my phone had been switched off. This way, I might at least be able to save the battery for a little bit longer until I found a way to contact my friend.

On shaky knees, I rushed back to the sitting area and sank down on the soft cushions again--not one moment too soon. The General stepped back in again and placed a clay bowl, some bread, and a jug of water on the table in front of me. It smelled delicious, and my stomach growled, but I hesitated.

"Eat," the General ordered, polite and charming as usual, while he cleaned his hands with a wet cloth and handed it over to me.

His face darkened when I didn't move, and he hissed, "Listen closely, mishtz'in, if you think that you can go on some kind of hunger strike, forget about it in this instant. You are going to eat, for if I have to, I will force every bite down your throat myself."

I looked him straight in the eyes and said in a low voice, "The stories warn not to eat the food of the Fay."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, the anger vanishing completely from his face, and he burst out laughing, his pointy teeth gleaming in the light of fire. Making him look exactly like the type of Fay the tales were cautioning about. His golden cat-like eyes sparkled as he laid his hand on mine.

"My sweet Anna, you are carrying my child inside of your womb, yet you worry about the food I serve you? Is that what the stories tell?" He laughed again. "Let the Fay fuck you, but beware of their food?" He leaned close to me and lowered his voice. "I have been inside of you so often tonight; if there is indeed some binding spell in what you take into your body, then you are already bound to me, mishtz'in. By my magic, my venom, and my seed. There is no need to starve yourself for a lost cause."

He handed me the cloth again, and I cleaned the fingers of my non-injured hand with it. It must have been dampened with something more than water because I could make out a faint and pleasant, spicy smell.

"You are actually not wrong to be cautious about the food you get served by your enemies," he conceded. "For many reasons, but I promise you, my sweet, that this is just food. These stories are not talking about our people."

He ripped off a piece of the flatbread, used it to pick up some of the food from the bowl, and started eating. I nodded; it actually looked too appetizing for me to resist: a thick stew made out of some kind of meat and different vegetables. I took a piece of bread and clumsily tried to imitate the General.

It was delicious, sweet, and hearty--some kind of game seasoned with herbs that I did not recognize. I wondered if this was a special dish for the General or if Veril soldiers usually had such fine food. I finished one loaf in minutes.

"Do you like it?" the General asked.

"I think that's the best food I've ever tasted," I admitted.

He smiled, drank from the jug, and handed it to me, our eyes meeting. I felt strangely awkward and self-conscious. Somehow, the act of sharing food and drink together was more intimate than all the other things we had done together, like a ritual more ancient than history itself, and when I took the jug from him and put it on my lips, it almost seemed like I was agreeing to some type of contract, the terms of which were unknown to me. I drank the water in big gulps; it was cool, as if it had just come out of a fridge.

He leaned over the table and kissed me. It was brief, soft, and gentle, and I felt myself completely melting under his touch, looking at him with my eyes wide open, when he broke the kiss. My head was spinning; I was so tired.

"Rest, my sweet," he said in a soothing voice.

It was the last thing I heard before my eyes fell shut and I drifted off into the deep darkness of a long sleep.

When I woke up, I was completely disoriented, and it took me a moment to understand where I was. Dread as heavy as a stone dropped in my stomach when it all came back to me. I was at the Veril military base in Volkspark Friedrichshain in General Tsul Vo'ren's tent. In his bed, to put it more precisely, I felt the blankets and fur under my naked legs. I didn't remember how I had gotten there, but at least I was still wearing my shirt.

The fire in the center of the room had been extinguished, and the crown of the tent must have been covered with something, because I was engulfed in complete darkness except for a tiny speck of light that had managed to poke through the felt-covered opening of the tent's door.

So it was day outside, but what time was it?

Carefully, I ran my hands over the furs. This bed was surprisingly comfortable. When my fingers touched warm skin to my left, I pulled them back quickly. The General was not startled. His breath went soft and regular; the bastard was probably sleeping soundly and deeply, satisfied with himself and the things he had done.

General Tsul Vo'ren! My mind was still unable to believe the magnitude of the events that had transpired last night. Even with the Butcher of Hamburg as the slumbering proof at my side, it felt more like a fever dream. I rolled to my side and winced at the soreness between my legs and the ache in my limbs--another proof that last night had been all too real.

My head started spinning as the images came back to me. The General with his blade on my friend's throat, his golden eyes the first time I saw them in the elevator, his black eyes when he violated me, when he had made me scream his name when he had made me come.

He had taken my virginity, and was I really going to have his baby? It seemed too surreal to be true. I laid a hand on my stomach as if to try and feel his child in there, but of course my belly was as smooth and soft as it had been.

My heart clenched in raw fear. What was going to happen to me? Yesterday I had been too much in shock, too distracted by the General, to really deeply think about this fundamental question. But now...

I should have told him to leave when he had given me the chance. Tears of desperation started forming in my eyes.

What was he going to do with me? The answer was actually pretty clear; he had told me himself: He was going to keep me as his little toy until he grew bored of fucking me.

And then? Would he move on to torture when violating me was not exciting enough anymore? Was I looking at years and years of misery, where he forced me to birth his children until my body would be too broken to be of use to him, or was it just a question of a couple of weeks until he got tired of me? Or days?

I didn't fool myself into thinking that he would have any moral qualms about killing me or discarding me in another way when he didn't find me exciting anymore. We had all heard the stories of how he slaughtered entire families in seconds. I felt bile rising up in my throat.

'No!' I thought, trying to snap myself out of the spiraling thoughts.

I was not just going to lie here waiting. I needed a plan! Unfortunately, my head was utterly devoid of ideas, and I was currently spending my whole mental capacity trying not to freak out completely. What did I normally do when I didn't know what to do?

Right, my phone. I needed my phone. At the very least, I needed to write to Tim to let him know that the General hadn't killed me yet. And maybe my roommate would have some idea how to help me. And then we would see.

But where was it? I remembered that I had switched it off in my bag yesterday and that the bag was somewhere near the bed. But I was confused about which direction of the tent I was facing.

My eyes had adapted a little bit more to the darkness, but it was still impossible to make out anything farther than thirty centimeters away.

I got up as quietly as I could, crouched down, and started to search the floor with my hands. And then, when I was half way around the bed, my fingers hit something.

It was not my bag, but what was it? I ran my hand over the object's surface: smooth leather and a metal hilt. I halted when I realized that it was the General's scimitar, which lay next to him on the floor--the mighty warrior was ready to jump into battle at any moment.

What a beautiful weapon it was, and a famous one as well. I was sure that it was the kind of blade that had its own name. Without thinking, I closed my hand around the grip; it felt good against my palm. Carefully, trying not to make any sound, I pulled it out of its sheath. I had to use both of my hands to keep it steady, and I winced a bit when the weight pressed into my injured palm. From the ease with which I had seen the General wield it, I would never have guessed that it was that heavy.

There he lay, just half a meter away from me, sleeping and unarmed. I could feel the strange pulling sensation that was always present when he was close to me. The demon, who had slaughtered an entire city, the reason we women were practically enslaved to the Veril now. And here I was, kneeling above him with a deadly weapon in my hand.

Slowly, like I was dreaming, I lifted the blade up above his throat, careful not to touch him. It would be so easy. My eyes ran over him; his naked body spread out below me, and his strong muscles relaxed for once. The tattoo-like marks were not glowing while he was asleep and barely visible in the darkness. He looked almost innocent now, but these were the same arms that had held me down as he violated me. I lowered the blade a little bit more.

'Kill him!' said the little voice in the back of my head, and I gripped the hilt harder.

I knew how sharp this weapon was; it would probably just take one well-placed cut, and the General would meet the same fate that he had dealt out to our Minister of Defense in Hamburg. I was probably the only German to ever have this opportunity. Was it not my duty? Didn't I owe it to my people?

My muscles tensed, but I still hesitated. Owe it for what, actually? Had we not started the war? Had I not just been raped and kidnapped because they sold me away?

My eyes lingered on his face. He looked so peaceful; his beautiful features completely relaxed, without all the dominance and control he usually exuded. I thought about how it made my heart jump when he laughed, how soft his lips had felt on mine. And then those little moments snuck their way back into my mind. How he had spared my roommate at my plea, how he had bandaged my hand.

I shook my head and tightened my grip again. Not killing an innocent bystander and putting a bandage on a cut he had inflicted himself hardly made him a good person. But I still couldn't bring myself to move.

"Do it!" he said, his eyes still closed.

I was so surprised that I jolted and let out a little scream. My hands shook, the weapon lowered a few centimeters, and was almost pressed against his skin when I had regained control over myself. I froze in shock.

He opened his golden eyes, fixing me sternly, his chin tilted slightly up. He looked so beautiful that a really stupid part of me wanted to bow down and kiss him.

I had to do it quickly, or he would overpower me, and I didn't even want to think about what would happen to me then. But I just kept staring into his eyes. A hint of a smile played around the corners of his mouth. For what seemed like an eternity, none of us moved. I couldn't do it.

"You are not holding it right," he said. "You will never get the momentum you need for a clean cut with your arms angled this way, and I would really prefer my beheading not to be choppy."

He placed his right hand slowly over mine and guided the blade away from him, lowering it carefully to the ground.

"Now give this to me, my sweet."

I loosened my grip; he pulled his scimitar out of my hands in one fluid movement and jumped up into a crouching position. His face was only centimeters away from mine now.

"That is a dangerous weapon," he said in a low voice while he forcefully shoved the blade back into its sheath without breaking eye contact with me. "You really shouldn't be playing around with it, or you might hurt yourself."

I slowly pulled away from him, but before I could escape, he had grabbed my left forearm hard and yanked me back against his naked chest. In the next second, I was gasping for air underneath him, his hand still around my wrist, pushing my arm firmly into the furs.

I stared up at him in shock; he had flipped on my back so quickly that I hadn't even felt the movement.

He looked down at me and said through gritted teeth, "What kind of plan was that, my sweet? Did you want to kill me in the middle of my own war camp? Do you think you could have just strolled right out of the park afterwards?"

"No," I hissed back. "But at least I would have purged the Earth of your existence."

"Is that so, mishtz'in?" his voice was dangerously low. "That is a shame; I was under the impression that you quite enjoyed my existence when you begged me to fuck you last night."

He placed his hand around my throat and softly caressed my skin with his thumb.

'This is it,' I thought. 'He is going to kill me now.'

I closed my eyes in a silent prayer. Tears ran down my cheeks as I waited for him to choke me. Instead, I felt his breath on my lips when he leaned down to kiss me. I lay stiffly trapped underneath his massive body for a moment, but then I felt the familiar fire very slowly pushing the fear to the back of my mind. I relaxed against his touch, and I cautiously started responding, kissing him back while his fingers still stroked my throat.

Suddenly, while I was getting more and more distracted by his scent, he pressed the thumb of his other hand--the one that was still encircling my wrist--hard into my injured palm. My scream of pain was muffled by his kiss, and he seized the opportunity to push his tongue between my open lips. He kissed me deeply, forcefully, exploring my mouth, and for a while I was too confused to understand what he was doing. But then I felt it: a little burn, not painful but exciting, like the stinging of spicy food.

I struggled underneath him and tried to turn away, but he had moved his strong hand from my throat up to my chin, holding my head steady, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't escape. He made sure to coat all of my mouth with his venom, his tongue teasing mine. It was actually a great kiss, one that took my breath away. He tasted so good, and it was getting harder and harder to resist.

I was just about to give up, starting to respond with passion, when he pulled back a bit and looked me in the eyes. I was looking up at him, breathing heavily, and he let his saliva drip from his tongue into my mouth, covering it with his hand. His venom made my mouth tingle. It had been so fast that I had no time to react, and a part of me loved the intimacy of it. The other part of me glared at him and tried to pull him off me. My protests were muffled by his hand, but my weak human body stood no chance against his Veril strength.

The General looked down at me with a cruel smile. "Swallow, my sweet. Make sure you take it all in."

I shoved against his chest, but with no success. When I finally swallowed, I felt the burn of his venom running all the way down into my stomach.

I didn't notice the effect right away, but then the tingling in my mouth gradually started to spread through my body. I dug my nails into the fur when the sensation got stronger and stronger until all parts of my skin that were not touching him burned. At the same time, it seemed like the inside of the tent was lighting up a bit, and I could see better, just like after he had stung me in my dark bedroom.

I couldn't really give it much thought because the venom was slowly taking over my mind, and I could feel the wetness pooling, running down between my legs. Then, slowly, I felt a pressure building up deep in my core until it was almost painful. I knew that the only thing that would make it go away would be his cock buried deep, deep inside of me. I moaned and held on to his muscular arm with my right hand, the one that was not pinned against the bed.