It's Not About Control (closed to Dissinger)

[Skie and Avery]

She knew he’d hit her, of that there was no question. If she let her knuckles fall on cheeks flushed with liquor, he’d retaliate. Seth didn’t take niceties with those he saw as warriors, and it was something she liked about him but found frustrating at times. Rough around the edges was only cute until it sliced your hands. Now he was tumbling in with assumptions, thrashing about in ways that would leave them both a mess in the morning.

Had he even noticed her hands were glowing, or Malagaste’s patient instruction in her ear when he’d crashed through the door? Of course not, and her ire overtook her patience as she stared him down. Her fists clenched, and without caring for the consequences, Skie pulled back for a slap.

She never got the chance to strike before the Demon had her wrist. It felt too fragile in his grip, like the hollow bones of a bird. She flew forward with his pull just as easily as a sparrow might be ripped from a branch in the talons of a hawk. Before she could get her feet back under her, she found herself slammed against the wall. How funny that in just a few moments she was in the same place she’d been, only with the men having switched places.

“Maybe you wouldn’t be struggling so much, just maybe you might have a chance to take me down if you just learned.” Seth’s voice was low and slurred, annoyance seeping into each word. From over his shoulder, Skie locked eyes with Malagaste. Leave us, she mouthed, and the elf hesitated. Before she could try and signal him to press her point, the thief that held her arm against the cool wall attacked.

He didn’t hit her like she thought he would. Instead, his body pressed against hers and before she could think through the miasma of beer that surrounded him his lips crashed into hers. He kissed her hard enough that her teeth pressed into the back of her lips and she thought she’d taste blood.

Instead, she tasted taffy. God, the world seemed so bright and then she was falling into a void, going back to the place where she had power. It had been years since she had been here, out of her body and within arm’s reach of Seth Dahlios’ very soul. This time, however, she didn’t feel herself devour it. It was there to be plucked or protected, just waiting. Was this a sign she was more powerful than when she’d been barely out of the nest and facing Seth for the first time? Or perhaps because the demonic blood in her veins had been purged?

She reached out, barely noticing that her hand was made of pure light. She didn’t bother to wonder exactly where she was. It didn’t matter anyway. Magic didn’t work like that. Instead, she cupped Seth’s soul and brought it closer, peering into it as if it were a crystal ball and she was some roadside diviner.

When she’d seen him before in the shadows of his soul, he was locked in a battle with his past. Now she saw his form, nothing more than made of wisps, kneeling against the pole of a stake he’d been chained to. Figures around him were whipping him, and while no sound existed here, nothing but the movement of light and shadow, she could feel his pain.

“Oh Seth,” she said, her words echoing in her mind as they were lost to the void, letting her eyes move from the central shades of torture and peer into the edges. There was a storm there, an oncoming night. Somewhere in the darkness, she saw herself and probed. What did Seth Dahlios truly hold for her in his heart?

She saw it. A means to an end, the same end that rushed closer with swirling thunder and a darkness far deeper than the shadows that danced in his soul now. She was a stepping stone to a conclusion he’d written for himself long ago. It took great will but she whispered a silent prayer at the soul and released it, leaning back to give it room to wander where it would.

She came out of her trance not knowing how long she’d been gone. Surely not long, the bright light she’d last seen extinguished and Seth’s kiss still pressing against her mouth. Dizzy, the once-demon returned it, noting the bare noise her mentor made. Somewhere between a growl and a strangle, he let her wrist go and wrapped his arms around her, one hand moving to the nape of her neck where he ensnared her hair while the other lifted her jaw with what seemed to be carefully calculated if slightly rushed unkindness. His mouth ducked into the lee of her neck and from over her shoulder she stared down the elf who hadn’t the sense to leave when she’d told him to.

Malagaste had a strange look in his violet eyes. It was confused and amazed. Had he been able to see her spell cast, her manipulation of the soul? Surely not, Skie thought. She’d been alone in that strange silent place. When their eyes met, Skie knew that the Drow had questions and a long list of things he was holding himself back from doing. But she hoped that after their interrupted conversation, he would have the good sense to trust her.

A moment of tension in his eyes seemed to pass, and he turned. He moved through the open, splintered door as quietly as he stalked through Alerian streets, but there were still the barest whispers of cloth moving, a footstep scraping through the debris and it seemed to be the cue the Lavinian had been waiting for. Seth relented, a grin spreading across his face. Thayne, Skie thought. That cocky son of a bitch thinks he’s won, that he shut me up and pissed off Malagaste. No, she would ensure that she had control this night. He would hold her in something more than the calculated regard she’d seen in his soul.

After all, she hadn’t been any demon. She was a succubus and while the blood was gone, the memories remained.