Chapter 8: Not a demon

Melisende could hear and feel her heart beat so hard, she thought it might jump out of her chest. The evil being who had a hold of her appeared as if through a tunnel with fuzzy edges. If he didn't have a hold of her, her knees would've collapsed beneath her. If he kissed her and her lips betrayed her the way her ears and body did, she would be condemned to hell for the rest of her miserable existence and her soul would be trapped there when she died.

That rational part of her, the one that made her measure everything and consider the facts, sought a rational explanation for a being such as this that did not include the devil and burning in hell, but she could not find logic in his existence. He talked about breeding her as if she was an animal, but he smelled clean and spicy, unlike most of the priests, most of whom objected to bathing regularly and some refusing to bathe at all. He looked evil but spoke with an intelligence that was hard to miss.

"Please, no," she pleaded and, in that moment, she hated him for making her beg. It reminded her of the times she had begged not to be whipped. Had begged for the whipping to be stopped. Humiliation heated her cheeks. Never had her begging done anything but crush her pride at her own weakness. If she thought about it with logic, she knew any person would plead when tortured like that. It still did not make it easy to remember. What would this demon do to her? How many times would he make her beg?

The demon took a deep breath and lifted his head. "I will show you the sleeping place. It is superior to anything you have ever known in your primitive human dwellings."

She still hated that he made her beg but could've cried with relief that he wasn't going to kiss her. What would it feel like to kiss a demon? She had never kissed a human man, and there would be no way to compare. She almost groaned in despair. Why did her curious nature always cause her to think such traitorous thoughts? But still, she wondered if her lips would be seared or would it be sinfully good? What was wrong with her? How could she have these sinful thoughts? She narrowed her eyes when she realized what he'd said. "You have no idea what I am used to, demon."

"I do. Medieval man live in cold, primitive places, badly built with inferior furniture and tapestries."

Melisende opened her mouth to argue, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her through a gleaming silver passage, the edges straight and smooth.

"And everything stinks," he added as if he couldn't resist.

Melisende wanted to argue, but he was right. She was the only person he knew who took a bath every day. It meant carrying in pails of water and tedious time spent throwing out the cold water when she was done, but it was worth all that effort. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why do you call us medieval? Is that a demon insult?"

He sighed as if put upon. "I am a Zyrgin warrior and not a demon. And I call those primitives medieval because that is what they are called in the human history books in the future."

The future? He was deranged. That was the only explanation for his strange words. No one could know what would be said in the future.

That claw burned her skin where he held her. It was a warm, almost comfortable burn instead of a searing heat as she'd feared. They turned another sharp corner. "How did you build this place?" She could not imagine what kind of tools could create such precise corners and smooth surfaces.

"Superior Zyrgin technology," he said with such arrogance, he might have been a king ordering his subjects around.

"Yes, but what kind of tools did you use? How did you get the walls so straight and smooth and the angles precise?"

He glanced down at her. "You do not need to know this, breeder."

She swallowed at that word he kept using. Maybe she should stay quiet for now and wait for the right moment to escape. When she asked questions, people got angry, and she always ended up whipped or kneeling on a cold stone floor, praying for forgiveness for the sin of being an unnatural woman. Surely, it couldn't be a sin for a woman to think. She thought that many times, had prayed over it. Had asked for a sign that she was not unnatural or evil. A cold, cold feeling slid down her spine. Was this her sign? Did the devil send this demon to grab her for the sin of being a woman with thoughts only meant for men?

A wall parted, and they entered another room. The outer wall had parted, as well, but it was still disturbing to see. "How - "

"Superior Zyrgin technology," he said before she could ask the question.

She looked around and swallowed. A large bed, covered with a huge, luxurious pelt dyed a rich purple, stood in the middle of the cavernous space. Like in the other cube, there was light even though not a candle could be seen. She couldn't help but notice that the bed was made for someone the size of the demon. With much room to spare.

Melisende stared around her, desperately trying not to notice the bed and to think about its meaning. "Corbleu, it is the bedchamber of a lady." How was this possible? Her whole life, she'd only had a simple bed to lie on, and a cold stone floor to kneel on for prayer even though she was born into a powerful family. "For me?" she whispered, but no sound emerged. After his scathing words about human homes, she was glad the words didn't escape her lips. Maybe this wasn't a sign that she had evil thoughts. Or could it be that this would be her punishment because her thoughts were evil? Living in this opulent room, having to accept a demon as her lover?