6. Valefar
Valefar
Iawake with a violent jolt, my hands flying up to cover my ears as if they are bleeding.
The burning, unceasing heat in my flesh that had driven me to the edge of madness has finally subsided, thanks to my mating with Vesper last night.
She prefers fucking. I prefer mating.
But the peace is agonizingly brief. A shrill, ear-splitting screech shatters the quiet of the morning. It is so raw and high-pitched, it mimics a soul being flayed alive on the jagged obsidian of the Pit.
Vesper stirs beside me. She rolls her eyes with an irritated groan, stretching her limbs beneath the sheets.
The soft light filtering through the window catches the sheer silk of her slip, highlighting the delectable, curvy outline of her body.
Instantly, a heavy throb surges at the base of my cock, a twitch of impure desire.
But the torturous wail echoing from the next room refuses to let my predator instincts settle.
I bolt out of the plush bed. My claws extend with a metallic snikt, my fangs dropping down to scrape against my bottom lip.
My spade-tipped tail thrashes through the air behind me, an involuntary weapon preparing for a brutal, bloody fight against whatever lesser demon has breached these walls to enact such sheer distress.
Vesper simply throws off the covers and gets to her feet. She pads around the edge of the bed, her face soft and flushed with sleep, and pats my rigid, corded shoulder.
“It’s okay, Big Guy. Come on,” she says, unfazed by my bared teeth. “It’s time to introduce you to the most important person in my life. And give you the number one rule in this house.”
The shrieking persists, driving a monstrous pain through my sensitive eardrums. I grip my hands into fists, trying to rein in the feral urge to slaughter. I manage a rough, strained wheeze. “Yes, Mistress.”
She pauses, giving me a sweet, tired smile, which makes the air feel suddenly thin. “Just Vesper right now. Thank you.”
I freeze.
The word, the last one, hits me like a physical, warm blow directly to the center of my chest. Thank you.
In all my centuries, across eons of warfare and torment and hollow pacts, I have never once heard that phrase directed at me.
My lungs stubbornly refuse to expand, paralyzed by the unfamiliar, gentle weight of her gratitude.
But duty calls.
I follow her out of the main bedroom, my frame shadowing her as we move toward the forbidden door on the other side of the short hallway.
We step into the room, and immediately, all the air is knocked out of me.
The shrieking has stopped. Vesper leans over a small, cage-like wooden structure in the center of the pastel room.
I watch her, entirely transfixed.
The spiritual energy radiating from her is blinding—an overwhelming, unconditional force of maternal protectiveness which I cannot even begin to categorize. She speaks in lilts and hushed murmurs, her voice a musical balm as she lifts a tiny, fragile creature into her arms.
It is a miniature human.
The small being has lighter-colored hair—a messy, dirty blonde—but her eyes are unmistakably Vesper’s.
Those large, bright emeralds flick to me over Vesper’s shoulder.
They go impossibly wide, observing my horns, my sheer size, my bronze skin.
She just stares, unblinking, striking me with a profound sense of awe.
I tilt my head, my brow furrowing in contemplation as I unwittingly puff a thin stream of gray smoke from my nostrils. I blink rapidly, trying to process the impossibility of the scene.
“My Vesper,” I rumble softly, a vibration in my throat. “What magic you possess to create a tiny human in your likeness!”
Vesper turns, a radiant grin breaking across her face as she gently rocks the child against her hip. “Yeah, ovaries, an egg, and a vagina are pretty awesome magic, aren’t they?”
I give her an entirely blank stare, the human anatomical terms failing to translate into any sorcery I know.
She blows a soft laugh through her nostrils, shaking her head. “This is Elsbeth, but I call her Bethie for short. And she’s my daughter.” She rubs a gentle hand over the fine hairs on Bethie’s head.
Suddenly, Bethie stretches her chubby, pudgy arms out toward me. Her face bursts into a toothless grin, and she giggles loudly. “Ava-va-vava-va va!”
I flinch violently, stumbling half a step backward, my concentration returning to Vesper. “Is it broken? Or does it speak in tongues?”
My tail, betraying my nervousness, wags back and forth, occasionally curling inward toward her.
Bethie’s bright emeralds zero in on the spade tip moving through the air.
The tiny creature’s intense focus makes my muscles tighten defensively, until a tension, a strange, pinching sensation, forms directly under my sternum.
It is a feeling I have never quite experienced, a soft ache I cannot name.
Vesper cuts through my internal crisis. “Have you ever seen a child before?”
I shake my head, keeping a wary distance from the babbling creature. “No. I have heard of them, but I have never seen one till this moment. We do not have children in Hell, Vesper.”
She offers a slow shrug, her expression shifting. She shifts her weight and stabs a small finger in my direction, her gaze hardening into something authoritative. “Number one rule in this house, Valefar. Are you listening? Because you’d better listen well.”
I instantly straighten to my full, towering height. I jut out my chin, folding my arms behind my back like a loyal soldier. “Yes, Lady Vesper.”
She smiles, satisfied. Nodding softly, she continues to bounce Bethie while reaching over to the nearby dresser to retrieve a colorful plastic circle—it rattles, but it also has some sort of rubbery ring.
She offers it to the child, and Bethie immediately chomps down on the toy with surprising ferocity.
I raise my brows, genuinely wondering if this tiny, hungry creature is part beastie like her mother.
But I snap my attention back to Vesper as she lays down her law. “Repeat after me: I vow…”
I blink rapidly, taken aback. But I place my massive, clawed hand over the center of my chest, feeling the heavy thud of my demonic heart. “I vow…”
Vesper leans down to press a kiss to the side of Bethie’s head, attention locking onto mine with an unyielding fire. “I vow never to harm one hair on this child’s head, so help me, God.”
My jaw drops open. Rebuking the natural order of my existence to swear by the Creator. But looking at the two of them, bathed in the soft morning light, the words come easier than they should. I clear my throat, my voice a gravelly, resonant bass that fills the small room.
“I vow never to harm one hair on this child’s head—or any other part of her being—so help me, God…” I pause, my pride demanding a tiny addition, “…and Lucifer Morningstar.”
Vesper lifts her chin higher, squaring her shoulders with a mixture of immense pride and maternal triumph. “That’ll do, Big Guy. That’ll do.” She turns and gestures toward the open doorway with her free hand. “Come on. We need to get her some breakfast. By the way, what do you eat?”
I open my mouth, fully intending to tell her exactly how much I would like to eat her, how I wish to drag my tongue along every inch of her soft, warm curves. But I watch the small, innocent child chewing viciously on her plastic ring, and I wisely snap my mouth shut.
I nod silently, my tail trailing behind me as I follow my witch mistress and her tiny offspring down the hall toward the kitchen.