The Devil's Mark Ch. 02

"I have to go back."

Irritated red eyes looked up at the speaker, their owner's reply to the statement blocked by the mouthful of cock she was steadily swallowing. A particularly deep thrust cut off her lover's next words long enough for her to free her mouth, one hand still absently jerking his tool.

"Seriously?" she asked. "We're talking about this now?"

He tried to reply only for her to rub the thumb of her other hand over the crown of his spit-slick manhood, his sensitive nerves sending his spine arching and teeth biting his lower lip to restrain a moan. Nevertheless, he powered through even as she kept changing her strategy.

"We both knew this would—ah—happen eventually. That was the—oh God—whole point of teaching me...ohhh..."

She released an absent hum, all of her attention devoted to driving him crazy—and driving those crazy thoughts out of his head, at least until they were done. His expectant eyes let her know she'd failed at the latter, so with a sigh, she responded.

"Yes, I know. Of course. Doesn't mean you have to bring it up now." She punctuated that statement with a sharp tug of his shaft.

A surprised moan slipped through his unexpecting mouth, and she grinned as she closed the distance, stopping whatever he was about to say with her lips and invading tongue. His hazel green eyes fluttered shut as he finally let loose and moaned into her mouth, hips bucking into her grip. She grinned around his lower lip as she lightly sucked it between her teeth, both hands wrapped around his cock and furiously tugging him off. His breathing became rapid and feverish, eyes half-lidded in pure lust and tongue lolled out even when she broke their kiss. She smiled, all teeth, as he moaned shamelessly, voice rising in pitch and intensity by the second.

Her lips drew close to his ear, whispering words that were nearly drowned out by his own cries of pleasure.

"Thaaaat's it. Cum for me, my pet."

With that, his eyes rolled back into his head and squeezed shut, all the breath leaving his body along with a far-shooting load that splattered his torso, all the way up to his clavicle. His dick kept pumping and jerking, soiling his chest with great globs of white a good four or five times before he finally began heaving for breath. It was another half-minute before he had enough cognizance to hold onto her for support. Another twenty seconds before he could open his eyes and fix her with a dazed look. A look she rewarded with a consuming kiss, the hand not covered in his orgasm tangling in his auburn hair and tilting his head back.

He sighed into her mouth, a hand on her arm coming up to cup her face as his thumb rubbed comfortingly into her temple. She broke the kiss a while later, her lover smiling up at her with a calm warmth in his eyes.

"Enjoy yourself?" she asked.

He chuckled and pecked her neck, nuzzling her snow-like skin. "Always, Izzy."

"Hmm..." She rubbed a hand over his back as the other gently teased his softening dick before wiping it off on a nearby linen. "Even the part where I called you—"

"Especially that."

Izzy felt his face heat up against her skin and chuckled. "Oh? Does someone have a little pet kink?"

"N-No."

She giggled and tipped his chin up to ensnare his gaze. "Are you suuuuure?"

He bit his lower lip and glanced away. "Um...I mean...if it's you..."

Y'ssaria laughed uproariously and ruffled his hair, laying a smacking kiss on his forehead. "Guess I should be looking for a collar then, maybe a leash too?"

Something in his features changed, and his body was suddenly tense, though he tried to play it off with a smile. "Like you even need one."

"Of course," she said, eyes narrowed inquisitively, "but I like to flaunt my pets, Leon. What better way than to have you kneeling at my side on a leash?"

His smile disappeared and eyes left hers. For a good four seconds, he was silent but visibly struggling for words.

Her hands cupped his face and tilted his head up to face her. "No collars. Okay?"

He gulped and nodded slightly.

Izzy smiled reassuringly and pecked his lips. His eyes slipped shut as he pushed forward with her retreat, keeping them lip-locked for a good while longer. When they finally broke away, his eyes were down, and he was stroking her hair, deep in thought.

"I know you want to ask," Leon said finally.

"But I won't. Not until you're ready."

His eyes shut tightly for a moment before he turned his head to stare off into infinity. "They put me in a yoke, once."

"Who?"

"...does it matter?"

"It does," she said firmly. "Name them, if you can."

"...Father Bertrand is the only one I remember by name."

"The priest?"

"Mhm."

"Go on."

"I was...shackled to a mill. Supposed to purge me of impurities through hard labor," a snarl entered his tone, "but it was summertime and the yoke was fucking hot. No water, no shade, no breaks. I don't have the faintest clue how long I was out there, just that one second I was shackled to the mill, and the next I was staring at the sky as the sun was sinking behind the mountains. Bertrand said the lightheaded feeling I felt was poison leaving my body. Now I know it was just the very little fucking water in my system."

Her grip tightened around him instinctively, her chest tight with restrained fury. Such restraint was a skill built over her centuries of life, but on few occasions had it been tested nearly as much as in the months since Leon came into her home. With a slowly-drawn breath, Y'ssaria restricted her tone to compassion instead of rage.

"I'm so sorry. He will never hurt you again."

"I know," he replied softly. "I know he can't anymore, not really. But sadists like him are never satisfied, even when the object of their torture finally succumbs to it. He'll find someone else to torment for whatever reason he can concoct, and he'll get away with it all because he hides behind that collar." His hazel eyes met hers firmly. "That's why I have to go back."

Y'ssaria felt her neck tense and jaw tighten. "Yes. I understand." And she did. "But I don't like it." And she never would.

Who would he really be saving, anyway? The same useless, superstitious sheep who aided the priest in his cruelty? The good-for-nothing hag who bore him and blamed him for her poor health? The only person in that place worth a damn was his adoptive father, and he had succumbed to pneumonia only days before Leon began his fateful climb to the Dämmerung Peaks.

But of course, she said none of this, because putting that filthy bastard of a priest in his place would be its own reward and she knew it.

"Let me go with you," she said.

"No. This is something I have to do alone. Besides, if the villagers recognize you, they'll never listen to what I have to say."

"You think they'll listen at all?" Izzy frowned at him. "Leon, Bertrand has had his hooks in them since before you were born. A little new eloquence isn't going to sway decades of superstition."

His lips pursed tightly. "I have to try."

"No," she said heatedly, "you don't. Fuck them. This is your home now. You said as much yourself."

Leon's eyes hardened as he straightened up to put their eyes level. "This is my decision, Y'ssaria. You can call me 'pet' as much as you want, but you don't own me."

Her lips parted, and she flinched as she bit her tongue. "You're right. You're right." She nodded slowly. "I told you I would stand by your decisions no matter what, and that's a promise I intend to keep. However, that doesn't preclude me from voicing my opposition, and frankly, dear, this is a very bad idea. If I'm not there to protect you, even at a distance, they could—" a hundred and one worst-case scenarios flashed through her vision all at once, "—Leon, please. Natural talent or no, a horde of riled-up villagers isn't something you can fight alone. If you go there, and you speak out against Bertrand publicly, and it backfires...they'll lynch you, lover." Her red eyes flared with fury. "And I refuse to let that happen after everything I've done."

His hazel eyes held her gaze for a moment before they flickered with mirth. "Gotta ensure a return on your investment, huh?"

She chuffed. "Damn right. You think I spend this much time with just anyone?" Izzy grinned and got up in his face. "In or out of bed?"

Leon got right back up in hers, teeth showing. "I certainly hope not."

She giggled and kissed him, deepening it after a moment as he gently pushed her onto her back. He leaned back a while later, looking down at the way her black hair fanned out on the bed.

"Thank you for believing in me."

Izzy smiled at the painful warmth in his eyes, ruffling his hair. "Always, lover." She squeezed his shoulders and pulled him down with her. "Now come on. Can't dress down a sadistic maniac with no sleep, now can you?"

Leon chuckled and snuggled into her arms. It took a few minutes for both to get comfortable, Leon eventually finding his place as little spoon while Izzy stroked his hair in calm, soothing motions. His deep breathing let her know he'd drifted off just moments before she did the same.

* * * * *

Despite most vampire legends being little more than that, it was all too true that they were significantly more powerful—and far more alert—without the blinding sun bearing down on them. So when Y'ssaria awoke an hour later and was certain he was sleeping, she left Leon in bed and slipped out the window, her body gliding through the air and flowing on the cool currents of mountain wind that swept between the Dämmerung Peaks. A cloak of pure midnight hung around her shoulders, a hood concealing her pale skin and the crimson eyes that saw the darkened forest as if daytime.

Making her way down the mountain was as easy as following the right currents to her ultimate destination: Leon's former home of Wilhelm, and his destination come morning. A preemptive strike this was not, despite every fiber of her being telling her to do so. She would respect his decision...even if it was a stupid-ass decision. No, this was a preemptive warning, and not to the corrupt priest who would soon taste the harvest of his decades of abuse toward Leon.

The creaking of the old house didn't alter in the slightest as she touched down inside a window that had been left unlocked. Or as she strode through the darkened halls of the small dwelling, the ruffles of her cloak emitting barely any sound. She closed her eyes, letting the scent and sound of her quarry lead her to the bedroom at the end of the hall. The door creaked open faintly, and the sole occupant of the bed must've been a light sleeper, because she sprung upright with a gasp, looking around feverishly.

"W-Who's there?"

The woman rubbed a hand over one of her eyes, slowly climbing from the bed, though her movements were not heavy with sleep. No, her every move was sedate and stiff, as if she were trying to grope her way through a layer of glue. It was this sluggish movement that prevented her from seeing the cloaked figure standing by the curtains of the room's tall windows. Only the faint moonlight streaming in through the cracks illuminated Y'ssaria's form, and periodically at that with the movement of the clouds. So when the woman finally turned to face the intruder, it took her a good five seconds to recognize the danger before she was pinned to the wall by iron-gripped fingers.

The faint sting of steadily growing nails pricked at her skin, and Y'ssaria hissed, fangs bared while maintaining pressure to stop her scream. When it became clear she understood her situation, the woman's mouth shut, and she stopped struggling. In turn, the vampire leaned in closer, staring her down eye to eye.

"You know who I am?" she asked softly.

A slow nod.

"Do you know why I'm here?"

A shake from side to side.

"So he didn't tell you he was leaving." She snorted. "Can't say I'm surprised."

The woman coughed haltingly, trying to clear her pressured throat. "L-Leon?"

"Oh, so you remember his name?"

"What...did you do?"

Izzy snarled. "What you wouldn't. I fed him, clothed him, protected him...and taught him to protect himself instead of rolling over."

"He's—alive?"

"Yes. And he'll be returning here tomorrow, but not for long." Her red eyes narrowed dangerously. "Wilhelm is no longer his home, in no small part thanks to you."

"But—"

"Furthermore, against my every warning, he will be confronting his greatest tormentor—alone. See that you do not impede, oppose, or in any way interfere with his course of action. If you do—"

"You don't understa—"

Y'ssaria pressed harder, choking her. "If you do, I will rip your throat out and feast on your viscera while you still live. I assure you, I find you that contemptible."

Despite her apparent fear, Leon's mother met her eyes unflinchingly. Izzy frowned. Something was off. Someone so willing to roll over and let someone harass and abuse her child wouldn't have the sheer fucking audacity to look her in the eye. So she let up the pressure on the woman's neck just enough to let her speak.

"You don't understand," she rasped. "Leon is cursed."

Izzy bared her fangs. "That damn mark is not—"

"It's not about the mark."

She stopped cold.

"It's about who his father is." The woman flinched. "Was."

Y'ssaria stared at her. "I'm listening."

* * * * *

Half an hour later, and Y'ssaria's head was spinning where she sat, staring alternatively at the ground and the middle-aged storyteller who had finally fallen silent.

When the vampire finally spoke, it was barely above a whisper. "Are you telling me...that your lover—Leon's father...was a djinn?"

Brionne nodded, a deep frown creasing her features. "And a cursed one at that. According to legend, he was cursed by an ancient king of India, whose entire civilization was doomed by his actions. It robbed him of his immortality, slowly leeching his life away, and the only way to weaken it was to pass fragments of it down to his descendants. Given the countless millennia since..."

"And Leon's just the latest."

She nodded. "It activates as he matures, slowly robbing him of vitality and lifespan."

Y'ssaria shuddered and resumed staring at the ground.

"But there is a way to break Leon's curse."

Y'ssaria looked up to see only pain in the woman's eyes.

"He must...reject his own blood," she choked out.

Izzy's eyes widened slightly. "So you let the priest have his way and all but abandoned him."

Brionne's head shook. "No. We decided on this plan together."

The vampire stared at her in dawning horror.

"Bertrand told me all the legends, searched for a cure when I came to him desperate."

"Or just convinced you to give him an excuse to vent his frustrations on an innocent boy," Izzy snarled.

"No! He was there, he saved Leon." She grimaced. "Right after he was born, his father tried to smother him in his cradle. Bertrand drove him away, just barely. After that...I knew it was just a matter of time." Tears welled in her eyes. "Seeing my own child look at me with hatred...the thought of it alone is too much." Her shoulders shook violently. "But the thought of burying him—it's even worse."

Y'ssaria stared at her for a good long while, turning over the chaotic emotions stirring in her chest. Fury quickly won out. "You...selfish bitch."

She blinked and stared at the rising vampire. "Wha—"

"The one thing you never counted on in this brilliant plan of yours was the fact that he's a better person than both of you." Izzy sneered. "Honestly, I don't know where he gets it from—probably your late husband—but in spite of everything you've done, he still cares about you." Her sneer turned to a snarl. "The only thing you succeeded in driving him to hate was himself. You know that the first night we met, it was because he wanted me to end his life?"

Brionne's face paled.

Y'ssaria sneered again. "Because apparently the path to the afterlife is barred to those who commit suicide—according to you Catholics. So he wanted me to do it. That's what you drove him to."

"...but—"

"Did you never once stop to consider what would happen if you'd succeeded? The kind of life he'd live if he learned he could never trust anyone? That he could never love, never be loved, even by his own family?!"

"He'd be alive!" she shouted desperately.

Y'ssaria pinned her to a wall, teeth bared, claws slightly digging into her shoulders. "A steady heartbeat and sucking air is not enough!" she roared furiously. "That's not living!" She shook, red eyes wide and half-insane with barely contained rage. "I would know—better than most." Slowly, she took a deep breath and released Brionne. "So as with everything, it falls to me to protect him. I will find a way to beat this curse—if it's even real and not some fiction concocted by that damn priest to cover up your shame."

Brionne grimaced, unable to meet her eyes.

"But I will tell Leon nothing of this."

She looked up at Y'ssaria, eyes wide.

Izzy's lip twitched. "For what you've done to him, I would rather hang you from the ramparts of my keep than ever let you near him again. But...since that seems to be the opposite of what he wants, I'll have to settle for leaving you here to wallow in the guilt and shame of knowing that all your efforts to drive him away were for nothing." She stepped back. "If you ever want to speak to him again, you will go to him and you will fall to your knees and grovel and beg. Because I doubt he's coming to see you tomorrow, and I'm sure as hell not serving as mediator."

Y'ssaria turned her back on Brionne with an audible snarl and twirl of her cloak. She stopped halfway to the window.

"Oh, one last piece of advice: don't go to church tomorrow."

Then she leapt out the window and vanished into the night.

* * * * *

The sky above Wilhelm was a gray, dark curtain as the town finally came in sight. Certainly fit the mood, given Leon's apprehension. He dug the nails of his left hand into his palm, the pain serving to focus him and sharpen his senses. The whole climb down, he'd had to remind himself he wasn't the same person who left. Yet looking at these same houses, these same unwashed, dull-eyed people brought back a flood of memories he wanted to keep buried. His clenched fist brushed against the hilt of the rapier strapped to his side. He took a moment to remind himself of its comforting weight.

Leon had chosen a rugged leather jerkin and satin leggings as his attire for this excursion, with the addition of a hooded cloak for the sake of anonymity. He'd reveal his identity soon enough, but he didn't need the drama of being accosted prior to that moment. Leon pulled his hood a little tighter around his face, ensuring the shadow cast by the overhead sun concealed his telltale birthmark.

The steps to the village church were not well traveled by him. Only once had he dared set foot inside of his own accord. The agony endured that day had quicky dispelled any notion of a repeat attempt. His fingerless leather gloves creaked noisily before he realized he'd clenched his fists.

"Huh," he hummed.

Perhaps he should've waited a bit longer after all. It wouldn't do any good to lose his temper mid-confrontation. Would point would that prove except that Bertrand was right about him?

Nevertheless, there was no turning back now. He stepped up to the large wooden doors and slowly opened one, letting himself in as quietly as possible.