16. Hell-side Summons
Rhazien
***Earlier that day***
The seven of us are gathered in the common area, despair and restlessness oozing from our pores. The air is thick with a sense of hopelessness that's stifling.
By far, Silas looks the worst. He sits slumped against a wall, staring off into space with an unfocused gaze. There are shadows beneath his eyes and his face looks gaunt and haunted. I've never seen the panther lose his vitality in this way.
Once he woke up after the effects of the sleep potion wore off, he sprung up and surveyed his back-to-normal dick with a mixture of shock and disgust. For a moment it seemed as if he wanted to rip it off, but then he crumpled to the floor and let out an anguished wail.
His uncontrollable sobs had me looking away in shame. My own eyes welled up, not knowing how to offer him words of comfort. I didn't know how to console myself either.
We had thoughtlessly tortured the one person who’d always comforted us.
"Should we go check if she has woken up?" Alistair asks impatiently, pacing back and forth.
"It's been a while, we can." Ifrinn rubs his palms up and down his thighs looking nervous. We’re all on edge. Unsure how to face Aleiraah after what we have done.
"By ‘a while’ if you mean quarter of an hour, then sure,” Archie snarks from his armchair, his knee jiggling constantly. “Although, having your accusing ass nearby is probably not helping her wake up."
“Watch your tone, wolf!” Ifrinn snaps, rising from the sofa with white-knuckled fists, face tight with aggression.
"Oh yeah? What are you going to do, demon? Smother me with your tentacles like you did her?" Archie lashes out, taking an aggressive step forward as Ifrinn growls.
"It's been a day already and she has not woken up." Baz says quietly, looking at them with bloodshot eyes, jaw clenched tight. "Can we not fight among ourselves, at least while she sleeps?"
I've wondered the same thing. "Why has she not woken up yet, Azael?" He had used up almost all of his reserves in healing her.
"Yes, despite everything,"—Alistair looks away for a moment as if gathering himself, then glances at Azael—"she should’ve woken up by now. Her succubae healing should've been working double time with all our essences."
He pales as he finishes that statement. I think we all do.
There's an eerie stillness about Azael that makes me uneasy. Like a single action could trigger something that’d change him forever. And not in a good way.
He first looks at me, then at Baz, pinning him with an ice-cold gaze, voice devoid of emotion. "Did you know that the 'Chain of Chastity' actively leeches her magical powers?"
What?
Baz surges to his feet, eyes bulging and my breaths turn shallow. Shocked silence blankets the room.
That means…she was not healing because we put that cursed thing on her? It weakened her too much!
“I––I didn’t know, Azael. I swear on my hoard!
” Baz appears devastated, glancing toward the room where Aleiraah sleeps.
“I only thought she might throw us out using her magic, so I wanted to block it preemptively. It’s…
only supposed to suppress her magic and allure—I never knew the chain was actively draining her powers!
” He grabs his hair, tugging it violently. “Curse it all!”
Azael turns his impassive eyes toward me, and I feel something splinter inside. "Fuck! I didn't either, Azael. I just thought it’d restrain her magic. I––I swear, I didn't know it’d weaken her!"
He remains silent, but studies us critically.
Smothered by the guilt of encouraging something so abominable, I escape outside into the gardens.
The sun is just rising, bathing everything in golden glow, but it offers no warmth.
My breaths turn choppy as the enormity of my actions threatens to crush me under its weight.
My insides feel cold as I stagger and collapse beneath a willow tree and eventually pass out. That's when I start to dream…
Archer
"That's why she used to get those headaches whenever she wore the chain..." I can't believe we didn't realize this before.
"How did you know?" I ask Azael.
"I felt the enchantment on it when I melted it off. When I started healing her, I felt her power had dwindled significantly. Once healed, she fell into a deep restoration sleep to replenish her natural reserves of magic, I believe." He states solemnly.
We all absorb that for a moment. Silas remains silent through it all, lost in his own guilt.
I know Azael poured all of his manna into her, almost to the point of passing out himself. Healing me had depleted his reserves, but he didn't stop until Aleiraah was completely healed, outwardly at least.
We moved her to a spare room afterward, and bathed her while she remained unconscious.
It felt like we were taking yet more liberties with her.
But none of us wanted her to see herself covered in our cum once she woke up.
Alistair refused to use a cleansing spell on her, and cried silently while he helped wash her.
He said he knew she'd want to wash it all away and not use just a cleansing spell.
I fared no better, my hands trembling as I touched her bruised body.
Regret, a constant thorn in our side, we dressed her up in a soft white gown we took from her closet, hoping she'd be comfortable.
"I’m going to go check on Aleiraah," Alistair declares abruptly and walks out.
"I think I’m getting summoned." Ifrinn clears his throat, stiffening.
"Now? While Starling is in this state?" Baz exclaims.
"I can postpone but eventually I’d have to answer. It's my father, and I can't refuse to respond. Better get it over with so I can be here when Aleiraah needs me."
I scoff and Baz looks at him doubtfully. Azael just keeps staring at Ifrinn steadily with a dead-eyed stare. As if trying to take him apart mentally, piece by piece.
Ifrinn looks down for a moment then mutters, "I'll be back," and vanishes.
Fucker!
Alistair
Slowly opening the door, I walk into the room where Aleiraah is resting. She lies on the bed, serene as a statue, her complexion rosy and beautiful with no visible marks of our sins left on her skin.
I kneel down by her side, tracing her lovely face with my eyes.
"I am so, so sorry, Delight." I whisper, hesitating for a bit, then take her right hand into mine.
Her soft hand is warm but feels lifeless.
I press a kiss to her palm and continue hesitantly, my eyes turning moist, "I hurt you...
judged you based on certain...experiences.
If you ever find it in your heart to forgive me—" I press another kiss to her palm "––I’ll kiss the ground that you walk on.
"I love you, my Delight. You're the only thing that brings me joy anymore.
I swear I'll be a better mate. A better person.
I need to tell you something, have been meaning to for a while but didn't know how.
I think you might already suspect something.
But I want to tell you the full truth before it swallows me whole.
Please…I beg you, come back to me." My words are a whispered plea.
Pressing a kiss to her forehead I leave the room, choking on the ever present guilt.
Ifrinn
When I got summoned, the last thing I expected to see was my father getting pleasured by a hell-harlot, looking bored, while my mother sat nonchalantly by his side, sipping demon brew. My self-entitled and snobbish brothers are thankfully nowhere in sight.
Is that what I look like while the nameless hell-harlots fawn over me?
The thought turns my stomach.
"What took you so long, boy?" My father–Maezryn Darkwhim, ruler of our demon faction, complains loudly. His horns jut out straighter, flared in arousal. The hell-harlot moans, bobbing her head between his legs and I’m filled with instant bone-deep disgust.
“You summoned. I’m here. What do you want?
” I snap, maintaining eye contact. You don't survive the hell-hierarchy by being respectful. Still, I feel shackled by the inherent summoning spell every male demon is born with. Demon younglings, especially males, are willful to a fault, so parents use this spell to track their spawn. It works until the parents die or they unravel the spell of their own volition. Or in extreme cases, if the summoned demon’s horns are damaged beyond repair.
My parents are very much alive, and no matter how many times I demand it, they refuse to release me. Just another form of controlling me.
"Flicker here has been gagging for cock for a while, and as a reward requested me to summon you.
" He strokes the hell-harlot's head like a precious pet.
"She also told me that you refused her advances the last time you were here.
Her friend Ash wanted to please you too but you threw her against a lava wall when she touched you.
Has that succubus been keeping you on a tight leash, boy? " He sneers.
Objectively, my father is a handsome demon, but moments like this reveal his ugly true self.
When his hell-harlot, Flicker—who made a pass at me while attending the mermaid ballet with Aleiraah—shoots me a coy smile, my patience snaps.
In long strides, I march forward, grab her hair, and snap her neck.
I consider tearing her head off completely to prevent resurrection but decide against it.
Instead I toss her lifeless body at my mother's feet to make a statement.
High on demon brew, my mother starts cackling.
"What the fuck do you think you are doing, Ifrinn?" Father roars, leaping to his feet.
I take a step closer standing chest to chest, pointing a clawed finger at him. "You don’t get to summon me based on some hell-harlot's whim. And never, ever, speak about my mate again. You don't deserve to even think about her.” His nostrils flare as he tries to stare me down.
“I’ve said this a million times, I do not want hell-harlots! I am married and love my wife. If you try this stunt again, I will force you to surrender the summoning spell. Don't test me, Father,” I spit, breathing hard. My father's skin turns a violent red with rage.
"You think you can disobey me, boy? You think you’re a big demon?
You married against my wishes, breaking tradition!
That succubus doesn't even have horns! You’re just a lackey in that motley harem.
You should’ve had your own harem for fuck's sake and bred some hell spawns by now!
Having hell-harlots kneeling at your feet is a symbol of status and power.
It's tradition. Look at your mother, she knows how to be a demon queen.
Can you say that about your succubus whore? "
I warned him.
I don't think. Letting fury wash over me, I pull back my fist and throw a solid punch at his face. He stumbles onto his throne, bleeding from his broken nose. Using that moment of advantage I grab one of his coal black horns and rip it off clean.
He generally hides them to conceal any weakness, as they allow a demon to travel anywhere within Mytherra but remain prone to attack. However, in an aroused state, a demon's horns flare and cannot be hidden, making them incredibly vulnerable.
He bellows in agony, clutching at his bleeding head.
I grab the other one in my left hand and break it partially, and yank back his head.
He howls again, overwhelmed with pain. I point the sharp tip of the broken horn at his throat and hiss, "I warned you to not speak of her. Now you’re trapped here, not even half-horned.
You utter one more word about tradition, I’ll rip off the other one completely and shove it down your throat.
" His charcoal eyes widen, the threat finally sinking in.
I crush the broken horn in my palm and it slowly turns to dust.
Dusting off my hands, I glance at my mother who's staring at me owl-eyed, slack-jawed, demon brew forgotten.
"My Aleiraah is incomparable. Mother doesn't hold a hell-flame to her. But she's not to blame. You broke her spirit with your stupid traditions and innumerable concubines."
A wave of shame engulfs me when I remember suggesting the seven of us take concubines in the heat of the moment. "Mother is just surviving the best way she can. But never make the mistake of comparing them.”
“You better watch your back, boy!” Father gnashes his teeth, as if he’d like to tear me up but holds himself back when Mother places a hand over his thigh.
"I’d advise you to watch yours, Father,” I snarl. “And think twice before summoning me again. Next time I won't be so accommodating." With that threat hanging I teleport back only to find Rhazien having Azael by his throat.
The moment I materialize into the room, he lets Azael go and throws a punch at my face at vampire speed. Wondering what the hell is going on, I am too slow to dodge.