Chapter Nine

 Zarek couldn't hold back the tears that fell from his eyes. He didn't bother to stifle them. The burn in his lungs and throat, the scorching pain left by Vepir's violence, paled in comparison to the flood of emotions overtaking him, threatening to drown him as he fought for breath. His body went slack dejectedly against the floor, shaking not just from the shock and pain, but from the deep well of fear and despair that had been building in him for days. He had struggled so, so desperately to keep this hopelessness at bay ever since Kaldryn had bound and sold him, but in that moment, his body wracked with sobs, he had completely lost the fight.

 He drew in a shaky breath, the sound barely audible in the small cabin. His mind clung to the physical pain, using it as a shield from the agony that writhed in his heart like a black suffocating shadow; it was easier to face, easier to understand than the raw force of his emotions. The burning ache in his neck was something tangible, something his mind could comprehend.

 But as the pain began to fade, it left a black chasm where his emotions began to ferment. Zarek's trembling hand found his hidden pendant beneath his shirt, clutching it as the image of his mentor's face, once a source of comfort and wisdom, now twisted into something cold and unrecognizable. The betrayal felt like a knife twisted in his chest, sharper now than it had ever been. He had trusted Kaldryn with everything – his loyalty, his admiration, his belief in something greater than himself. And for what? To be denounced, sold, stripped of everything he thought he knew and cared for.

 What worth was his life? He had amounted to nothing, and here he was, broken and helpless. Useless.

 A hollow sob escaped him as he held the pendant tightly to his chest. He tried to find comfort in the symbol, but it only reminded him of the mentor who had given it to him.

 This was all his own fault. He hadn't been strong enough, hadn't been wise enough to see the truth before it was too late. His mind reeled, urgently questioning every choice, every moment that led him here. How had he fallen so far so fast? From a respected apprentice in the Noctis Circle to a broken, pathetic demon, used and discarded like a tool.

 He wished Vepir had simply finished the job.

 Zarek's body curled into itself. Kaldryn's voice echoed in his mind, taunting him with its cruelty, replaying every lesson, every word of so-called wisdom.

 How could someone who had taught him so much, the teachings and wisdom becoming such a core part of his very being, betray him so cruelly?

 The fire crackled, the sound finally beginning to reach Zarek through his despair.

 Zarek slowly pushed himself off the ground, pressing his hands against his face as he was wrenched back into the present. Kaldryn had betrayed him, but his former mentor wasn't here now. He glanced from the fireplace to the door, a new focus settling over his thoughts.

 Vepir.

 The incubus had selfishly dragged him into this, forced him into situations he never would've imagined possible. But for once, it wasn't just the violence or insufferable attitude that occupied the storm of his thoughts and emotions. He had been stuck with the incubus for little more than a day, trapped at his side and forced to witness the atrocities he committed. But even after all of that, he had never seen such fury in his life until only moments before.

 Why? Why did Zarek's words cut the incubus so deep? What had Zarek said that had finally broken Vepir's hardened composure?

 A realization hit Zarek with a sudden jolt as he remembered the previous night, when Vepir had snapped at him, insisting that he was strong.

 Was that it? Was Vepir really so affected by the thought of being weak?

 Zarek's hands shook as he wiped the tears from his face, the despair falling to the wayside against the force of his unyielding curiosity. Vepir was powerful – he'd proven that easily with his brutal strength, his practiced and calculated precision. So why did the mere suggestion of weakness set him off so violently?

 What was Vepir hiding behind those smirks, that mocking confidence? The arrogant fueling of his own ego? What kind of thing could twist a man like Vepir into something so callous, yet so fiercely defensive?

 Behind the incubus's twisted, unsympathetic games and jeers, was there something vulnerable deep beneath the surface that he was trying desperately to hide?

 He shook his head, feeling so far out of his depth that he didn't know what to think anymore. Kaldryn's betrayal had shattered everything his reality was rooted in, but Vepir's unpredictable behavior left him spinning in the aftermath, unable to find solid ground.

 Zarek couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. Vepir's outburst had been provoked, and Zarek hadn't even realized what he'd been doing. He was only trying to defend himself against the endless barrage of insults, but he hadn't realized that he had pushed Vepir too far. He considered, briefly, if Vepir perhaps deserved to be pushed; after all, the incubus didn't give one shred of concern towards Zarek.

 But Zarek couldn't bring himself to blame anyone but himself. He didn't know anything about Vepir; the man was a walking contradiction, giving no indication about himself or what he was dealing with on the inside. He couldn't comprehend the incubus's situation or thoughts, so how could he blame Vepir for lashing out when provoked?

 However, no matter how much Zarek wanted to give Vepir the benefit of the doubt, he couldn't deny the glimpses of something deeper, some shred of decency and humanity he had seen. Vepir had gone so uncharacteristically quiet at Zarek's own insults, claiming that he had already heard them all. Surely someone who wasn't affected by this wouldn't have faltered? And Vepir was obviously capable of feeling admiration and beauty, the way he had gazed at the carvings in the wooden ceiling. And then, after their argument, the incubus – so cold and uncaring until that point – had offered Zarek the bed.

 The twinge of guilt in the pit of Zarek's stomach only grew, feeling like a solid rock.

 He felt like he was thrown into the deep end of whatever emotional constipation Vepir had going on. The man truly was a walking contradiction; one moment he was sneering and mocking Zarek, the next moment he was shamelessly flirting, and then he was strangling him out of rage.

 Zarek gritted his teeth. The comforting crackle of the fire was drawing him in, and he forced himself to stand. His trembling had mostly subsided, but everything was weak – both his body and mind. He shuffled slowly towards the fire, settling against the wall beside it and listening to the soft sounds of the flames as he stewed on his irritation.

 But he realized with a grudging certainty that he felt far more than irritation towards the incubus.

 Vepir was the most infuriating, unbearable being he had ever come face to face with. But he couldn't deny the flutter in his heart as he remembered the shameless flirting, and the unwanted kisses back in the Underground City. Vepir could be so insufferable one moment, and so charming the next. He was both arrogant and vulnerable, powerful and gentle.

 Zarek couldn't figure out if he wanted to punch him or kiss him. The thought made his heart beat faster, and he snarled to himself, trying to banish the thoughts from his mind.

 It was only moments before the soft pops and crackles of the fire began to lull him. He had never before been so utterly exhausted in every way imaginable. He fought to keep his eyes open, but it was obviously a losing battle. As his eyes began to close, one final thought ran through his mind.

 I wonder if he's thinking about me, too?

Dusk had settled over the forest. Darkness was washing through the window, bathing everything in shadows. The fire still burned in the fireplace, still soothing Zarek where he slept, propped against the wall.

 The loud creak of the door being shoved open startled Zarek awake. His heart immediately began to race, adrenaline flooding through him as he whirled around, his body quickly going into fight-or-flight.

 Vepir stepped through the doorway, his footsteps unusually heavy. One hand was clutching stubbornly to the bag over his shoulder, while the other hand was grasped around the legs of a wild turkey, its feathery carcass dangling just above the ground.

 Zarek remained tense as Vepir moved into the cabin. The incubus didn't even spare Zarek a single glance, behaving as if the demon wasn't even there. The door slammed behind him as he trudged inside.

 Zarek didn't dare to move. He watched Vepir, studying his expression, but the incubus was just as unreadable as ever, his face smooth and betraying nothing of his inner thoughts.

 As Vepir neared the fire, his free hand reached out, grasping the back of the old chair. Its legs screeched against the wooden floor, making Zarek wince as it was dragged towards the fire. At last, Vepir dropped onto the chair, sinking into it with a weary huff. The bird carcass was dropped haphazardly to the ground, and Vepir silently removed his bag from his shoulder, drawing out a knife.

 Zarek remained rigid in place, cemented to the floor against the wall only feet from where Vepir had sat. His heart thudded in his chest as he watched Vepir, but the incubus still seemed to be pretending he didn't exist. The man lifted the bird again, eyeing it in the firelight before he began to pluck it, pulling the feathers and letting them fall carelessly to the floor.

 The sight was more than distasteful, but Zarek quickly pushed away his disgust. He took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage he had left in his defeated, broken psyche. His voice came out a cautious, strained whisper.

 "Vepir… Can I please talk to you…?"

 Vepir yanked on the bird, ripping out a fistful of feathers. A growl sounded from his throat, and his sharp silver eyes met Zarek's in a hard sideways glare, his expression a clear warning.

 Zarek stiffened, the pain in his throat suddenly leaping to the forefront of his thoughts at the sight of Vepir's anger. He swallowed hard, but he forced himself to meet Vepir's gaze, his voice barely steady.

 "I- I just want to talk. That's all. No insults, nothing, I swear."

 Vepir's eyes narrowed distrustfully. His growl mingled with his voice, his tone low and dangerous. "Spit it out."

 Zarek could feel his trepidation. He knew full well that he was treading on thin ice, but he needed to tell Vepir this, at least. He paused, choosing his words carefully, as if he was trying to solve a riddle word for word.

 "I'm sorry, Vepir," he spoke finally, fighting to keep his voice from trembling. "I shouldn't have said what I did. I was angry, and frustrated, and -" He clenched his fist, struggling against the emotions that were once again welling up inside him. "It's been a lot… A lot to come to terms with in the last few days, and I took it out on you... I didn't mean to be so harsh."

 Vepir's eyes narrowed as he listened to Zarek's apology. He plucked the last few feathers of the bird, letting them drift to the ground. It was a long moment before he finally spoke, and Zarek was overcome with relief that the incubus's voice held no malice.

 "Well…" Vepir hesitated. It suddenly seemed to Zarek that Vepir might be out of his depth as well, and the idea struck him light a bolt of realization. "You didn't exactly get the warmest welcome," Vepir admitted. "Bought off the black market, kissed against your will several times, dragged through the forest…" He smirked, his eyes still fixed on the bird as he brought his knife against the carcass. His expression shifted, almost amused. "Honestly, I'm shocked you held it together that well."

 The respite from Vepir's usual anger and indifference was like something had lifted from Zarek's shoulders. The constriction around his heart seemed to lighten, and he took a shallow breath, feeling as if his lungs could breathe again. But Vepir's admittance didn't ease the guilt he still felt; on the contrary, it only made Zarek feel worse.

 This complex being, capable of sympathy and beauty and mercy, was forgiving him too easily, it seemed. Zarek couldn't stop himself from pushing back, his guilt still sitting like a rock in his stomach.

 "You… you have a point, but still," Zarek insisted quietly, still cautious. "You got us out of the city, not to mention saved me from those freaks at the black market. Gods only know what the Hell they were planning to do with me… I was an ass to you, considering you saved us both."

 Vepir chuckled as he sliced through the bird. Several drops of blood fell to the floor as he pulled off a slice of the raw meat. "You know, I was going to say the same thing. You saved me just as much as I saved you – I couldn't have fought them off without my power. I was a bit of an ass to you, too, considering."

 At once, the weight of Zarek's guilt vanished into thin air. His heart felt lighter, and he couldn't help but crack a slight, weary smile. Vepir's words were such a welcome reprieve from the tension that had been building between them, and Zarek's mind reeled once again with the understanding that Vepir was definitely not like most other demons.

 They were alike, it seemed; stark opposites, and yet there was a depth within them that most demonic beings were naturally incapable of grasping.

 "I guess we could both stand to work on our manners a bit, huh?" He jested lightheartedly.

 Vepir shrugged, inspecting the slice of raw meat. "We're demons. It can't really be helped a lot of the time."

 Zarek recognized the truth in Vepir's words. It seemed the incubus also understood the truth of most demon's nature; to experience anything other than chaos and hate was an anomaly. "You've got a point there. I suppose it's in our nature to be a bit… rough around the edges."

 For the first time since their paths had crossed, Zarek felt an easy wave of relief flood through him. The tension between them, always sharp and unspoken, had finally softened, if only for a moment. They were on the same page. An unspoken truce had bound between them, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Zarek could breathe. He watched as Vepir, hunching over the bird carcass, calmly sliced through the raw meat with practiced ease, his movements remarkably relaxed.

 It was a strange, tentative sense of peace, and for a moment, Zarek allowed himself to believe that maybe they could maintain this fragile comfort between them.

 But then, as Zarek watched, Vepir raised a piece of the uncooked meat to his mouth, sinking his teeth into it with no hesitation. Zarek stifled a gasp as his stomach roiled, revulsion twisting his insides and making him nauseous. The sight was too strange, too unlike anything he'd ever seen before. Vepir didn't seem to notice Zarek's discomfort, his silvery eyes gleaming in the firelight as he tore another strip of flesh from the slab, chewing thoughtfully.

 Without a word, Vepir grasped another piece and held it towards Zarek, still stubbornly looking away. The demon froze, his mind caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He didn't want to eat it – he could never bring himself to accept it – but he could immediately see it for what it was. This was more than an offering of food; it was an offering of peace, of tentative alliance – even friendship – something he had been desperate to grasp between them. Refusing outright felt wrong, but the idea of swallowing down the raw flesh made his stomach twist with nausea.

 His heart pounded as he stared at the raw meat in Vepir's hand. Zarek quickly forced a strained smile, trying to hide his disgust as he slowly lifted his hands in a gentle refusal. "Thanks," he said quietly, his voice soft yet steady, "but I'm not… I-I don't really eat raw meat... You should enjoy it." The words were careful, meant to maintain the delicate truce. He could only hope Vepir would accept it without offense, without breaking the fragile peace they had only just managed to find.

 Vepir furrowed his brow, finally glancing at Zarek. His hand faltered, dropping slightly as his sharp silver eyes studied Zarek. The demon froze under Vepir's scrutiny, praying silently that Vepir wasn't offended.

 At last, Vepir huffed, shrugging as he retracted his hand and biting into the meat himself. "Suit yourself."

 Zarek relaxed, visibly relieved. Vepir didn't respond further, and Zarek was grateful for the silence that followed.

 He watched Vepir as he continued to cut the raw meat, his movements fluid and graceful even as the blood from the carcass dripped to the floor. The firelight flickered across the incubus's face, and Zarek was suddenly struck by the sharp, flawless features. The soft glow cast faded shadows, accentuating the sharp angles of Vepir's face – his high cheekbones, the elegant slope of his jaw, and the precise cut of his nose. It was unsettling how someone so deadly could be so strikingly beautiful. His black hair, perfectly unkempt and swept slightly to the side, caught the firelight in wispy strands, framing his face in a way that seemed almost too deliberate.

 But it was Vepir's eyes that Zarek found himself transfixed by, the molten silver depths shimmering against the flickering light of the flames. They pierced through the dim light with an intensity that sent a chill down Zarek's spine. There was a predatory grace in the way Vepir moved, effortlessly cutting into the last pieces of the wild bird, and Zarek couldn't help but wonder how such beauty could exist in someone so lethal. In this moment, with the fire's glow dancing along Vepir's skin, Zarek saw the incubus for what nature had intended him to be – an intoxicating blend of danger and allure.

 The fact that Vepir was an incubus was suddenly ever-present in his mind, causing his heart to do flips in his chest and unbidden warmth to fill his lower gut. He couldn't deny how fascinated he was. Once again, his curiosity was piqued, and he spoke his next words without thinking.

 "I've heard that incubi are creatures of pleasure," he wondered aloud. "And I know that you need, well… intimate contact to survive, right?"

 Vepir's eyes narrowed suspiciously, his muscles visibly tensing as Zarek's curious question broke the easy silence between them. Zarek clamped his mouth shut, silently kicking himself for being so blunt.

 Vepir's voice was measured and deliberate as he responded. "I can 'survive' perfectly fine without it," he asserted, his voice tense like a calm before the storm. "What I can't do is take on a gang of thugs without a little something to fuel my powers."

 Zarek's eyes widened as he listened to Vepir's easy explanation, however tense. "So that's what sets you apart from other demons?" He prompted, unable to keep the fascination out of his voice. "Even lesser demons replenish their power naturally, over a short amount of time. So, what happens, then, if you can't replenish your power?"

 "Then I'm weak."

 Vepir's response was a sudden growl, as if the mere implication of being dependent on sexual gratification from others to fuel his demonic powers was enough to send him into a rage.

 Zarek flinched at the sudden anger in Vepir's demeanor. Just like that, the tension between them fell back over them like a thick, suffocating blanket.

 Damn it, Zarek silently cursed himself for letting his curiosity get the better of him yet again. Idiot.

 Zarek bit his lip, forcing himself to look away from Vepir, fixing his eyes on the fire instead. He couldn't let Vepir sit there and seethe, not when he had been so relaxed only moments before. Once again, he had pushed Vepir too far.

 He opened his mouth to speak, to try and apologize or change the subject or something, anything. But Vepir continued before he could get a single word out.

 "If I don't get it, I'm still strong," he asserted firmly. "I'm a trained fighter, and I can still overpower any opponent."

 Zarek slowly nodded. "You're right," he acquiesced. "I've seen what you can do. You're a force to be reckoned with, even without… without the benefits of intimacy."

 Vepir's fingers tightened dangerously around the raw meat in his hands. A few drops of crimson fell onto the floor. "Damn right."

 Something about Vepir's tone, combined with the sight of fresh blood, sent yet another chill down Zarek's spine, his stomach once again churning. He knew better this time; he wouldn't push Vepir again, not with his neck still achingly sore after last time.

 But, more than for self-preservation, Zarek didn't want to cause Vepir any discomfort. It was painfully clear that there were certain topics that Vepir avoided, and Zarek could plainly see the boundary being drawn.

 Suddenly, Vepir stood from the chair, apathetically tossing the rest of the bird to the ground before the fireplace. The knife clattered to the ground alongside it.

 "We're done talking."

 Zarek's heart leapt, the sudden movement startling him out of his guilty thoughts. He froze in place as Vepir moved swiftly across the room, snatching a thread-bare blanket from a small chest of drawers. Before Zarek could find his words, Vepir was laying the blanket out on the floor against the farthest wall from the single bed, tossing his dark bag onto it for a makeshift pillow with a muffled clatter.

 At that point, all Zarek could manage was a weathered "okay." He knew he shouldn't have pushed Vepir again, but he was thankful for the few answers the incubus had provided, however guarded and frustrated they were. As Vepir laid down on the blanket, yanking his hood over his black hair and shielding his silver eyes, Zarek felt yet another range of emotions rush through him.

 If anything, he knew, Vepir's reaction was undeniable proof that the mere suggestion of weakness was extremely triggering – so much so that the thought of relying on anyone for his power was insulting to the incubus.

 No wonder he hated me, Zarek reasoned, thinking back to all the heartless jabs and insults throughout their escape from the Underground City.

 For once, the sympathy he felt towards Vepir was not unwelcome. He watched the incubus settle in, turning towards the wall as if it would hide him as well as his invisible walls and façades. He desperately wanted to say more, wanting nothing more than to express his newfound understanding, but he held himself back. He understood that Vepir wasn't ready to open up. And as far as Zarek knew, he never would be.

 Zarek sighed quietly, rising from his place on the floor beside the fireplace. It was well into the night by now, and the short rest he had had after his emotional breakdown had only seemed to exacerbate his weariness even more. His feet were heavy as he trudged towards the bed, sinking into it on his stomach. It smelled of dust and ash, the worn mattress covered in holes and stains, but he couldn't care less. As he glanced over at Vepir's form, shadowed on the floor against the far wall where the light of the fire couldn't reach him, Zarek couldn't help the smile that crept onto his lips.

 The gratitude for this small kindness was like a trickle of light in his darkness and despair, and he pressed himself against the bed that Vepir had given him. It was more comforting than he had ever imagined he could feel again.