The Thesal and the Mank Ch. 01-02

The Thesal and the Mank, Chapters 1 and 2

Chapter 1

Dmitri disembarked the ship at dusk, torches sputtering in the wind coming off the sea, the lining of his cloak flashing crimson as he moved down the gangplank. He stepped off, soundless, striding onto the dock. A few moments later, on the same planks, making the same boards bounce and sway, a sharp clattering, he heard heavy tread and voices, the two men behind him keeping their noisy distance.

A thesal was a rare passenger. The sailors who had provided Dmitri's passage to Caska had been uneasy with him while they traveled, avoiding him, not looking at him. They didn't interest Dmitri anyway.

He was coming from months of travel, mostly on foot, some of it through remote areas, and then three days in a stuffy, dark hold, only roaming the decks at night. Now Dmitri was hungry, if hunger was the appropriate word to describe what he felt. Which it wasn't.

He wasn't thinking about his stomach, at least.

Caska was a large northern port, the largest city in the north, a busy center for trade and a draw to every kind of traveler. The port city was always lit, always loud, busy both during the day and also at night. Lamps were strung to light it. People crossed everywhere in the streets, slowing the carriages and horses. There were festivals throughout the year in Caska, crowds and brawling, revelry, drunkenness and people yelling.

Eyes followed him as Dmitri swept up the cobbled street, the crowd parting in front of him and filling in his wake. The cloak he wore billowed around his large black boots. His hood was off, showing his face. He was hunting. Stirring the light breeze, late summer, his dark hair was long to his jaw, sweeping brows.

When the secrat had entered Dmitri's body through the rite, so long ago now, it had changed him. Among other things, carrying the Ornthir had made Dmitri stronger, faster than he had been. It had sharpened his reflexes, his balance. He was tireless. His sense of smell and his hearing were both highly developed, his body cooler, his heartbeat very slow.

The secrat also found it convenient if he were an efficient predator. The Ornthir had made Dmitri compelling. It had changed his eyes, once a dark brown, now a gray so light they were almost white. Thesal eyes.

Women--men, as well--were drawn to Dmitri, drawn to the scent he made, drawn to the stern, pale carved beauty of his face and the grace of his body, broad shoulders. As he walked, he received glances, admiring, speculative.

He caught a shy glance, a flash of pretty brown eyes. His gaze lingered.

Then they saw his thesal cloak and their eyes tended to skitter away like hers did, walking a little

faster, maybe moving closer to the people with her.

But sometimes they circled back. Dmitri didn't have to try hard.

He was only an hour into his hunt when he saw her. She was Caskian, sitting in the open front of a busy, respectable tavern, out of place, some circumstance putting her here. Two men were talking to her, vying for her attention. She was laughing. Dmitri passed her slowly, not looking at her. He scented her, the smell she made from between her legs, as clear to him as her voice was clear to the men with whom she flirted, her laughter drifting to him again, a glass in her hand.

She was drinking wine, popular in Caska, smelling spoiled to his senses. No scent of another male on her. Dmitri could hear her heart, faster than the men around her. His eyes slid back, seeing her glance at him, her eyes widening. She saw his thesal cloak and looked away quickly, her brows going up.

Dmitri slowed. She'd seen him, was interested. He saw a man glance at her from a near table, his eyes watchful, a Caskian trader doing business with two other men in the way people in Caska did--slowly, over drinks and sitting. A male relative of some kind protecting her, but the man hadn't seen him.

Pausing in an archway across the busy street, Dmitri turned around, leaning his shoulder against a pillar, crossing his arms. She glanced at him again as he stared at her, nobody else noticing the exchange. She was pretty, thick dark brown hair twisted at her neck, a heart-shaped face with a small, folded mouth. She was in a light blue dress to her ankles with a flared skirt, Caskian-style. Her shoulders were bare, her breasts small, a pleasant swelling in the bodice.

Her eyes drifted to his again. She liked the look of him. He met them and she looked away quickly, her heartbeat going faster, turning and talking to one of the men. Dmitri knew she saw his cloak. She knew what he was, understood he was extending the invitation. This was the moment in which she would make her choice. The rest was just the drama of it playing out.

She glanced at him. There it was. This time he held her gaze longer before she looked away. She became flustered, taking a drink. Her heart was pounding now, knowing what she'd done. Curious about what she'd heard about thesals, her scent changing with her excitement. Curious was fine. Curious often got him what he wanted.

She looked surprised, anxious when he straightened and walked slowly toward her, and then he passed her without looking at her and found his way into the dimness of the hall in the back of the tavern where they kept supplies. He moved slowly, nobody back here, the tavern busy. Dmitri explored, finding what he wanted. He waited, a shadow in deeper shadows.

He didn't have to wait long.

He watched as the Caskian woman rose, the male relative lifted his head. She indicated the back. He nodded. Dmitri's secrat thrummed in anticipation as she made her way through the tables, coming to him.

Dmitri backed up, drawing her in, her eyes roaming blindly in the dark hall, looking for him. He had found, over time, that a direct approach was best, and he didn't speak her language anyway. His hand slipped over her mouth from behind, lifting her, opening the door and pulling her into the small room behind them. He closed the door behind himself quietly with his foot, locking it.

He glanced around the room, still holding her. It wasn't large. A chair in front of a sturdy table.

That would do. It was a small office. He hardly noticed her struggles in front of him.

He was hungry, need coiling in him. His hand was still on her mouth as his other hand went to her waist and over her breasts, roaming her curves, venom flooding his mouth. He tugged the tie of her bodice as she fought him, her cries muffled behind his hand.

The bodice released and he pushed it down impatiently, then still had to free the next layer, Caskian undergarments, finally reaching flesh. He cupped her small breast, the woman making a sharp, short noise and squirming more, the friction pleasant. Dmitri could smell her fear.

He laughed softly, his fingers going to his mouth, gathering his venom, returning to her nipple. He exposed her other breast, touching her. The shallow swells were warm and soft in his hand. She struggled for another few moments and then his venom began to work.

She went still in front of him, the sound of her breathing loud in the room, her mouth covered.

He leaned down to scent her throat, enjoying the nearness of her blood, his fingers still tormenting her nipples. His venom was potent and they hardened, swelling. They would become very sensitive.

Dmitri could see her clearly, but he knew she was blind in the dark. This time her squirming was different, her breathing deepening. Yes, she liked that, the smell between her legs strengthening, changing as she readied herself for him.

His hand left her breasts and he moved her forward to the table, sliding the chair aside with his foot, bending her over it, his hand still firmly over her mouth. He pinned her, hiking her skirts, little cotton drawers that he pulled down--pants under a dress, the younger races were so odd--exposing the sweet roundness of her ass in all the cloth, the woman still struggling. He let them drop.

Dmitri ran his hand over her butt, enjoying the warmth of her flesh, his cooler. His arousal was a separate thing, but it was linked, now, to his hunger. He kicked her legs apart, looking at her pink swelling, putting his fingers between her legs, stroking. She cried out in outrage behind his hand, already slick and wanting.

He brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting her slick, gathering mating venom, coating them. He returned to push his fingers into the delicate flesh, his thumb pressing into her pussy as his fingers stroked her. He had two kinds of venom. The other was defensive. Lethal. But his mating venom would only give her pleasure.

After a moment, she grunted behind his hand, his venom taking hold, making another sharp sound, her legs spreading more. Her smell was reaching what he liked. It would make her taste the best, sweetening her blood. Dmitri's secrat teeth dropped, nothing she could see. He leaned down and nuzzled her, smelling her skin, and then he broke through, biting into the meat of her shoulder. There was a sharp cry of pain from her, muffled. He released a small amount of his venom.

He waited and then she made a deep, desperate noise, pulsing against his fingers, dripping slick. When he gave her more, she would climax. Dmitri stopped his fingers, waiting. She shuddered, small motions of need under him.

"You like that," he told her softly in the language spoken in Caska, using some of the few phrases he knew in the language. "You want more?"

He could hear her heart pounding. She nodded a little helplessly behind his hand, a small wail, giving in to it, rubbing herself on his fingers. Her hips squirmed, pumping on his hand. It excited Dmitri, who gave her pussy a light slap that made her jump.

The bite on her shoulder was already healed and he leaned in and bit her there again, enjoying the taste of her blood in his channels, enjoying giving her more of his venom.The sharp jerks of her hips as she arched her back told him all about it as she cried out behind his hand. She jutting, rubbing herself on his cock behind her.

The woman's cries were rhythmic now, deep with need. He released her mouth cautiously--they usually didn't scream at this point, but you never knew--and grabbed her shoulders, turning her over, leaning her back on the table and pushing her knees up, spreading her, all in one motion.

He looked at her. She was squirming, her eyes gone a little, staring blindly into the darkness. Her breasts were bare, her nipples jutting.

Dmitri was standing between her thighs. He coated his thumb with venom, resting his fingers on her and touching her clitoris, watching her face. He leaned down and pulled her nipple into his mouth, sucking and nipping with his first teeth, moving to the other as his other hand went to his pants, unbuttoning them, freeing his cock, heavy and aching, hard.

She was a loud one. He didn't want any interruptions.

Dmitri reached into his pocket, pulling out a clean handkerchief--he kept several there--stopping to gag her, tying it. The woman fought it a little, indignant, her eyes heavy with pleasure as she panted under him. Her hands went to the gag and he captured them, putting them away. When he released her hands, she didn't move them. Her eyes were darting in the darkness. She had just realized he could see.

Now he could enjoy himself more freely. He let his secrat teeth drop, his mouth opening and stretching, a small line of his venom reaching to dribble between her breasts, startling her. It was nothing she could see in the darkness. Her hand came down to feel what it was and he pinned it again. She left it there when he released it.

He leaned down and scented all around the small swell, the skin sensitive, warm as he bit into the side of her breast, grunting with pleasure as she cried out in pain, muffled. He savored the taste of her blood, her whole body jerking. He gave her more venom, releasing her, licking his lips. He came up, their faces close, the woman staring blindly, gone with pleasure, panting. Dmitri inhaled her warm breath, his own cooler, his teeth retracting.

"Do you want to come?" he said low in Caskian, another phrase he had picked up somewhere.

She nodded right away this time, whimpering behind the gag, offering her breasts to his mouth. His thumb was starting and stopping, her hips shaking. Dmitri gave her a fierce smile she couldn't see, taking his cock in his hand and rubbing the tip at her entrance. She was ready.

Any thesal offered his lovers--his lovers also being its food, the secrat making no distinction--intense pleasure so the thesal could take her blood for the secrat. But the more he prepared her beforehand, the better she would taste.

Dmitri moved over her. She was slick. He found her and pressed in, rocking and then beginning to thrust, grunting lightly, his hand rounding her hip. She was meeting him, shuddering, her knees coming up higher.

Dmitri's secrat was awake in him, the Ornthir bringing a dark keenness to his vision, an urgency to his thrusts, the desires blending in Dmitri's mind, carnal and for blood, mixing. They did this well together, his secrat always with him.

Dmitri eyed her throat, her smell approaching what he wanted, her little cunt one kind of heat. He leaned down and nuzzled her neck, feeling the other kind of heat, warm, pulsing like a living thing, rushing under his lips. Dmitri was thrusting roughly, his own pleasure rising fast, the woman spread out under him.

He dragged his lips where her blood ran close to the surface at her throat, relishing the nearness of it, feeling the fast rhythm of her heart, and found his angle.

His teeth dropped and he broke through her skin slowly, enjoying it, sinking into her softness, setting the hooks. Her taste filled the channels that took it, giving him pleasure. Giving his secrat pleasure.

The woman cried out behind the gag, arching. There was no way he could stop the pain of such a deep bite. But his venom followed, flowing on a separate path, slipping into the stream of her blood as she drew another breath, going all through her body in moments.

She cried out again, arching. She went rigid with the beginning of her climax, her body shaking. He thrust deeper as she clamped on him, her cunt pulsing, feeling good on his cock as he pulled her blood again.

Dmitri closed his eyes. The pleasure of her blood was ongoing, as strong in the first moment as in the last. The carnal pleasure had an arc, a rising need and then the release. He couldn't separate them. This was what happened to those who carried a secrat, which didn't see any difference between fucking and eating.

His channels easily alternated, giving him the sensation of swallowing, although it was not his throat. He gave her more venom, making her come harder. She would climax as long and as many times as he wanted. His thrusts became ragged, deeper. He pulled more blood from her.

His secrat needed it. Its requirement for blood was everything--food and water, desire and appetite, lust and hunger, intimacy and predation, all in the thick, sticky warmth that flowed into him from her. And it felt good. Dmitri swallowed once more and began to come.

The woman's knees came up entirely, her cries frantic with pleasure. He didn't worry he'd hurt her. A young thesal new to carrying a secrat sometimes drew too deeply, taking too much, but Dmitri was far from young.

His venom burned out any sickness she might otherwise give to him, and he hadn't smelled any. And he didn't have to worry about impregnating her either. All thesals were sterile. He'd given that up when he'd accepted his secrat, part of the price he had paid.

He grunted, releasing in her, holding there, more pleasure washing through him. He flexed a last time and then slowly released his jaws, leaning back. He was over her, his mouth working, savoring the taste of blood. Dmitri looked at her neck. The wound was already closing, would be gone in a moment.

Dmitri leaned down, lingering to smell her throat, nuzzling her, instinctive, his breath stirring her hair, scenting himself on her, in her. It was a moment of intimacy he couldn't stop and she didn't feel. He withdrew from her gently, moving off of her. Dmitri straightened, feeling the blood flush through his body. His secrat was satisfied. He buttoned his pants, reached and untied her gag, withdrawing it gently.

He waited. She finally sat up, staring blindly, her hands going to her bodice. She pulled it up over her breasts, her hand holding it there. She was a little dazed, as they sometimes were, but she was unmarked. Some food and a night's rest and she'd never notice what he'd taken.

She startled when he touched her arm, giving a small cry. He realized she hadn't known he was still there. He forgot to make noise sometimes, forgot how blind they were, how dull their senses.

He collected her clothes--she wouldn't be able to find them quickly--making sure she looked presentable. When she was ready, he leaned down and kissed her mouth, taking his time.

He felt her hesitate and then she answered him, her arms coming around his neck. She was sweet. He straightened, opening the door for her. She went out, moving a little shakily toward the light, and Dmitri slipped down the hall and then out the back door into darkness.

People moved out of his path as Dmitri continued his way up the main road. He could feed from anyone, but he enjoyed women. Their smaller size, their soft skin, their tits and pussies and their high cries of pleasure. But the secrat's goal was always blood. It was up to a thesal to learn to control the secrat's more dangerous impulses. The secrat would keep feeding regardless, and sometimes until a thesal's lover was dead. It was a little mindless that way.

His Ornthir muttered irritably at Dmitri's thoughts, a low growl coming to Dmitri's throat. Dmitri voiced it, unable not to, a Caskian man walking in front of him glancing behind himself uneasily, the man seeing Dmitri's cloak and increasing his speed.

Dmitri didn't mind their fear. He was a solitary creature anyway. He never hid what he was. He declared it with the cloak he wore.

Chapter 2

There was a Veshtan temple for healing as there were in most villages on the coast, a large one in Caska. The temple was perched at the top of the hill at one of the highest points in the city. It was a building surrounding a stone square with a courtyard and gardens in the center, tall peaked red roofs.

The temples were the closest thing the wandering thesals had to a home, providing shelter and Veshtan hospitality. When they had first taken on the Secrat, Veshtans had built a huge underground city for the thesals in the catacombs outside of Nesra, the Veshtan city.

But they had misunderstood the nature of thesals, the Secrat and their hosts restless, unwilling to stay in a single place, and generations later the underground city remained empty and echoing.

Dmitri walked up the path to the temple, away from the noisy streets of Caska, a gentle rise. He reached the arched stone entrance, the Veshtan sign for healing displayed there. Slipping under it, he wound his way soundlessly through the healer's herb garden and then into the courtyard. He stopped, waiting.

Time passed. He realized nobody was going to notice him. He was too still sometimes. He forgot how reliant on motion they were to sense someone else. It was astonishing how close he could get to people without them knowing.

Dmitri finally moved around a little aimlessly, having lost the knack, a man seeing him, startled, going inside quickly. In a moment, an acolyte came.

"Fortend ausi lamine, duvehin?" the acolyte asked him in the language spoken in Caska.

It was nothing Dmitri understood, the acolyte peering into the darkness. The acolyte couldn't see in the dark like Dmitri could. Dmitri took a step forward, into the torchlight. The man saw his thesal cloak, the crimson flash of the lining. He bowed.