The Incubus's Heart Ch. 08

"Oh, Seneca, what has he done to you?" Godwin murmured.

Some type of fabric or leather was wrapped around her, warm and desert-scented. She tried to fight but she was too weak, and still tied up.

"Shh, hansa," Godwin cooed. "All is well now, you are safe." Hot hands, too hot, moved to her arms, and then the bindings were cut and she could breathe again. She couldn't feel the bindings on her legs as they were cut, she couldn't feel her legs at all anymore, completely numb, and somewhere she knew that was bad, but she couldn't remember why.

As the bindings fell away, the pain in her arm became a beacon of her consciousness, escalating as blood was finally free to move to the break. She tried to clutch it to her body, as if pressing it against her chest would help reduce the pain, but it flopped, unresponsive at her side.

Warm hands picked her up again, pulling her close. She couldn't see much, and what she could see was confusing. She closed her eyes, trusting Godwin's embrace, even if it was just a hallucination. He began to move, carrying her in his arms as if she weighed nothing.

Godwin whispered into her ear, saying things that she didn't understand. Was he speaking English? She didn't think so. His hands, were they always this warm? He carried her and she sobbed, pressing her face into his chest.

He was bare chested. She could feel his skin under her face and was surrounded by his vanilla-desert scent. She snuggled into him, then wondered if he was cold, why wasn't he wearing a shirt when it was so cold outside, but her head wasn't working right.

"Shh, hansa, please, I will keep you safe," he assured, holding her close. She tried to touch him, but hissed in pain instead as her arm flopped painfully against her body.

"No, no, do not move. Your bones are broken. I will care for you and keep you safe. I ask only one thing, hansa. Please keep your eyes shut. Do not look at me right now. Promise me, promise me now, please, do not open your eyes. Can you do that?" he asked.

He picked up his pace, each step now jarring her broken arm. She was dizzy and nauseous, the sway of his step swirling her stomach dangerously. She couldn't throw up on him, so instead, she held her breath, trying to calm the nausea.

"Breathe, Seneca. Please, promise me you will not open your beautiful eyes until I say, please." His voice was different, though she couldn't tell how, exactly. Deeper, maybe, or more throaty, a little lispy, it was difficult to pinpoint.

She couldn't make her throat work, so she nodded her head, pressing close against his chest.

"Canesp gane, hansa," he whispered, kissing her hair. "Didik siante flangt ont vantentas."

"I..." she mumbled, trying to make her mouth work right. Her voice sounded so raw and felt even worse than it sounded. "Don't under...stand..."

"Sorry. This will be chilly for a moment. Hold on with your good arm, and do not look. You are safe with me, always safe with me, Seneca."

"I know," she whispered, trying to make it hurt less to talk and failing.

A cord snaked around her waist, pulling her close to him. She squeaked in surprise, her heart thudding at the thought that she was being bound again. Godwin kissed her temple, then jumped. The warm leathery material around her disappeared, replaced with his strong arms and cold, breezy air.

Wind rushed around her, and there was this sound that she couldn't quiet explain, like a rhythmic whom-whom-whom timed with the wind surging around her. She knew her head was still messed up because it felt like she was going up, and going up quickly. Cold wind brought tears to her eyes and stole her breath.

Godwin shuddered, not actually a shudder but she couldn't explain it better, then his hold on her relaxed. He didn't let her go, just freed up one hand. There was a sound like something sliding open, then movement again, then sliding noise again. She wanted to look so much, but kept her eyes shut tightly, just like she promised.

Wherever they were, it was warmer and smelled like Godwin. She relaxed a little, only a shred, but he must have felt it, or maybe sensed it, because he wrapped that leathery material over her again, using it to hold her close.

Without her eyes the smell of him because her whole world, filling her with need. Godwin smelled good, like something that would take away her pain.

It took all of her willpower to keep from sinking her fangs into his silky flesh. She ached and his blood called to her, promising to take her hurt away, but she wouldn't bite him without his consent, no matter how hurt she was.

"Seneca," he whispered. He was so close, too close. She fought to get away from him before she did something she'd regret later.

He held her easily. "You are safe now, let me set you down. I will not leave you, I promise."

"Noooo...." she moaned, not even sure what she was saying, or what she wanted. She wanted to stay here forever. She needed to escape. She needed his blood, and also needed to leave before she bit him.

"Yes, please, Seneca. I would run a bath for you. Permit me to clean you and assess your injuries," he insisted, gently pushing her away from his chest.

She'd forgotten about the cord around her waist, it squeezed, then pulled until she was forced to take an unsteady step back. The broken bones in her arm ground against each other in a flash of blinding, staggering pain and she lost all reason.

Godwin's heartbeat called to her, his blood would make her better. It would take the pain away. Part of her tried to stop it, but her body was on autopilot as she lunged towards him fangs first. Even with her eyes closed she could feel his blood, knew exactly where he was.

He easily dodged her, she was caught up with that leathery rope. "It cannot be my blood, it cannot. You know what my blood does to you. I cannot give you what you will need if you consume my essence," he begged.

"No, no, no," she moaned. "Need you, hurts. I hurt," she whined, pushing away at the thick warm cord wrapped around her. She kept her eyes shut, like she promised, she didn't need to see him to know where he was, she was surrounded by him.

The cord around her waist tightened and she suddenly needed to be free, to be unbound. In a wild panic she pried her fingers under it, trying to push it down her waist blindly.

He sighed and the cord around her waist tightened a little more. "No, please, do not ask this of me, I will do whatever I can to make you comfortable. I cannot cool the fire my blood will ignite, not with your injuries as they are," he said.

"Untie me, untie me, untie me. I can't, please don't tie me, please, I'll be good," she cried. Panic balled up in her stomach as she was 12 years old again, trapped and helpless. "I can't, don't lock me up, please! I'll die. I'll burn to death. I don't wanna, please, untie me. Please," she sobbed, tears running down her face. "I'll be good. I'll be good, promise."

His arms were around her again, pulling her into his chest. "Oh, Seneca, I am so very sorry. You are safe, you are safe here," he whispered into her hair. She could hear the pain in his voice. The cord fell away from her waist and she sighed and hiccupped and cried in relief. "Drink from me, curb your pain. I will do what I can to calm you afterwards." He shifted, tilting his head back, but she bit him in the chest, right over his heart.

It was hard to bite something so flat, but she was out of her mind with need. Her fangs scraped down his chest, but it was enough. His blood seeped out of the track marks she'd left and she licked it up greedily.

With a willpower she didn't know she possessed she stopped herself from biting him again when the tracks healed. It was enough to cut the pain, to clear some of the dizziness from her head.

He held her close as his blood move through her body. The first thing to feel better was her throat. "I'm sorry, Godwin," she apologized, instantly filled with guilt. "I'm sorry." Tears came again. How had she not run out of tears yet?

"Nothing to be sorry for, Seneca," he replied, running warm fingers into her hair. He instantly found a snag. "May I run you a bath? I want to clean you, then check your fractured arm. I believe both the lower bones are broken."

Her body moved without consent, gripping him tightly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she cried, clutching at him. He held her until she stopped, stroking her hair, avoiding tangles.

After her tears dried up he shifted, still holding her, but not as closely. She shivered, suddenly freezing. "Godwin?"

"Yes, Seneca?" he replied. He shifted and picked her up, carrying her somewhere.

"May I open my eyes now?" she asked, the movements reignited her dizziness.

He stiffened. "It is my preference that you do not. I do not want you to see me as I am now..."

"As you are now? What?"

"My emotions, I am currently in my original form, my Daeva form. I am ugly, scarred and deformed. I would not have you see me like this."

Her heart hurt with the pain in his voice. "No, I wanna see you, Godwin. You could never be ugly to me," she insisted. "Please, I want to open my eyes. Let me see you."

He shifted one hand and opened a door. "Nanaste," he whispered, then the colors behind her eyes changed from black to pink as the light came on. Godwin shifted, sat down, moving her onto his lap. He leaned over and fiddled with something, then she heard the bath water start. "No, hansa, I am ugly, my body devalued by scars. And, my Daeva form, perhaps it would scare you."

"Godwin, please, I need to see you. I need..." she struggled. She trailed her good hand over his chest. "Your skin is so warm," she said, running her fingers across the expanse until she found his shoulder. Keeping her eyes shut, she turned her face to his. "Godwin, I want to see you. Please?"

He sighed, but she could tell he was going to give in. "Seneca, you do not know what you ask of me..." Godwin never whined, but he came the closest she had ever heard now. She knew then how exposed he felt, how afraid of rejection he was. "My emotions... I cannot change back to my other form, not yet, not until I feed again."

"I don't want to see your 'other' form," she insisted. "I want to see you."

He ran his fingers over her collar and she was suddenly hyper aware of his emotions. His apprehension and fear were on the surface, but underneath was something else. Hope.

"Open your eyes if you wish, Seneca," he relented, his voice barely a whisper. "Thank you for respecting my selfish request for so long." He gently moved her off his lap and onto the ledge of the tub.

She had to scrub the blood and tears and eye gunk from her eyes with her good hand before she could open them, and even when she did everything was too blurry and bright. She looked down to the tan floor tiles, squinting and willing her eyes to adjust.

"My eyes hurt," she explained, watching the tub fill. Steam filled the room and she longed to soak in the tub. "Can I get undressed while they adjust?"

"Do what you must to be comfortable," he said, moving her so that she was standing. "Do you need help with your arm?"

She could feel the tissue trying to knot back together, but it felt like something was wrong. "Do you... Oh, god, how am I going to get my shirt off? I can't lift my arm, and it's not healing right, it feels wrong." She was panicked, but she couldn't calm down.

"Shh, we can cut it off if we cannot remove it normally. If only this garment had buttons," he said, moving behind her. She looked into the large, white porcelain tub, half full of water, and possibly the biggest, deepest tub she had ever seen. The bathroom was spacious with pale beige walls and tan and blue tiles in abstract mosaics tiles. There was a shelf above the tub filled with soaps and salts.

His hands moved down her back and she sighed. "I can't lift my arm," she whined.

"Ah, well, then it must be cut. One moment," he said, moving away.

"No! Don't leave!" she nearly screamed, gripping the tub with her good hand. She searched for him, her eyes still blurry. His back was to her as he rummaged through a medicine cabinet over the sink.

It took all she had not to gasp. He had wings! Large, dark leathery wings were folded against his back, covering his butt, the farthest tip of them stopping just above his knees. They looked like bat wings, with a large bony ridge along the top and smaller ridges running down through the skin of the wing. The tip of each ridge had a single claw-like hook on each.

He must have sensed a change in her emotions because he whipped around quickly. It hurt her that he was so afraid of her reaction.

She looked at him, really looked at him, trying her best to keep her face as neutral as the pain in her arm would let her. His face was more angular, similar, but a little more sharp, closer to how he looked the night when Josh learned about him. Those eyes, his silver eyes looked more like steel filling the sockets completely. His face was still his own, but his teeth were predator sharp with extended canines like a vampire, though his were more prominent than hers. Two small black horns sprouted at the top of his forehead and curled into his hair.

Her eyes moved down to his body. His clothing was unusual for him, a loose pale tunic over pants of the same material, tied at the waist.

Godwin looked down, perhaps afraid to see her reactions. She'd never seen him this insecure. It felt intimate, made her feel she was special to him, though she tried to force herself not to get attached to that feeling.

His hand rested on his arm, the one with the scars, hiding it from her. She could see the scars, traced the ones she was familiar with up his arm until they disappeared under his sleeve. She wondered how much farther they went.

He avoided her gaze, turning back to the medicine cabinet to retrieve scissors. "You have a tail!" she gasped, immediately feeling like an idiot.

He passed without looking at her, leaning over to turn the water off. "I do..." he admitted, reaching over to grab a jar of salt from the ledge above the bath. "Do you enjoy the scent of eucalyptus?" he asked, unscrewing the lid and passing it close to her so that she could smell it.

"Yes," she replied, waving it aside. "You have a tail and wings! I thought you were making fun of me! You have horns, too."

At the second mention of his tail it jumped from the floor behind his feet into his hand, ringing his wrist once. He pulled it close to his body and stepped back again. He was blushing, the first time she'd seen it. She hadn't even known he could blush.

"I was teasing you, yes," he admitted as he added a handful of salts to the bath. He still wouldn't look at her. The smell of eucalyptus steam had her longing soak in the now pale green waters.

She moved to take her coat off but her arm was still broken. She hissed, then growled in pain and frustration.

"Let me assist, hansa," he said. He gently unbuttoned the two remaining buttons of her favorite coat, then slid it off carefully. She felt the cool metal of the scissors pressed against her back as he began clipping her blouse. She pouted for a second as she thought about the destruction then looked down at her shirt and realized it was a lost cause, soaked in blood and sweat, and somehow ripped on one side. There was also some type of black ichor that she couldn't identify, and honestly, she didn't want to.

The shirt slid open and he carefully slid it down her arms, going slowly around her break. Looking at her arm made her stomach turn. It looked like a floppy noodle from just below the elbow down.

She gasped as Godwin began unhooking her bra. "Don't look!" she exclaimed.

He snorted. "You are unable to do this for yourself, with your arm incapacitated as it is. Please, let me assist. Also, I should remind you, you are seeing me in my most unsightly form." His voice was clipped as he slipped her bra from her shoulders. It fell to the floor to join her destroyed shirt. His fingers were nimble as he unzipped her skirt and let it fall down her legs, bracing her against his body. Next went her tights and panties, which required some dancing and a lot of patience on Godwin's part.

She had no idea where her shoes had gone. Her feet felt raw and half frozen, so she must have lost them well before now, but at least she could feel her feet again.

Godwin's hands slid down her back, pressing firmly the whole way until they came to rest upon the swell of her ass. She blushed, she couldn't help it. Godwin chuckled despite his strange mood. "Shall I help you get in?" he asked, his hands back running up her spine, then landing on her shoulders, steadying her.

She shook her head. She would get in herself, she wasn't completely helpless. He lifted his hands away and she slowly and carefully stepped into the tub.

The water was just the right temperature as she lowered herself into the hot, salt-softened water. She closed her eyes, sighing as the water soaked into her cuts and scrapes, stinging, yet soothing.

Neither of them spoke. Godwin sat on the side of the tub, pointedly not looking at her as she sank into the water. It was deep enough that the water came up to her neck, and long enough for her to stretch out completely. She soaked in silence for a while.

"I don't think you're unsightly," she whispered, a little afraid to break the fragile silence.

He snuffed. "You are making efforts to conserve my regard," he argued, turning away from her.

"I think you're beautiful," she said, shifting so that her broken arm floated only semi-painfully in the soothing water. "I don't care to, ah, conserve your regard or whatever. You're amazing. Like, really sexy. I mean, um, I really like, you know, how you look. Either way like this or your other side," she insisted. He turned to her and she saw the disbelief in his eyes. "I'm not lying, I swear." Words were failing her.

He frowned, looking down at himself. "You enjoy perfectly formed abdominals. Mine are scarred, mangled," he interjected, pulling the hem of his tunic up to show her some of his scars.

She reached her good hand out of the water. Godwin cringed as she ran her fingers over his abs and across the large tracks of puckered skin and penny-sized dimples that peppered his left side. The scars were smooth, the skin thicker. They were terrible, but she also found that she liked them.

"These, they're bad, but I don't think they're ugly. These scars are what brought you to me. I know they must have hurt, and still hurt you, but I love them."

Godwin was a statue, silent and solid. Had she offended him? She bit her cheek and pulled her hand back, afraid to look at or touch him, though all she wanted to do was trace every scar with her fingers over and over again.

Godwin was still for another moment, then he reached behind himself. She realized the tunic tied in the back, it made sense because of his wings. He pulled the shirt off and let it slip to the floor. "Does this change your mind?"

She studied his scars, her eyes tracing them, following them like a maze. "Yes. You're even more beautiful than before."

He stood up and pushed his pants down, then kicked them away. "And now?" he demanded.

He wasn't wearing underwear. His manhood was crazy big, and it wasn't even erect. She looked away quickly, her cheeks flushed. She needed to see his scars so she returned her gaze to him, trying her hardest, and failing, not to look at his impressive member.

"Godwin, you are beautiful. Perfect. I already said it, but I want to feel every ridge, I want to learn them all, know every rise and fall, all of them."

"You did not say that already," he grumbled.

"Oh. Well, I thought it at least. My head is pretty spinny still. Got slapped around a bit. But, that doesn't change how you look to me. You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen."