Summoning Demons

Er, sorry if this chapter is a little long. I should get to the SEXY TIMES?? tomorrow, but I had to cut it off for now. Ahem.

***

Two more days under the Draenei’s tender ministrations had improved Lamia’s condition, if not her temper. He healed her sparingly, keeping her fit without giving her energy to spare. The lump on her head was now no more than a tender bruise. When Lamia woke the morning of the third day to find her headache completely gone, she attempted to access her powers for the first time since her capture.

Lamia’s talents were limited. As soon as she mastered her first, most basic spells, she set out to improve herself. In retrospect, testing out her weak new powers on a group of hardened bandits hadn’t been a good idea. Lamia hadn’t even learned to summon a demon to protect her. She had been defenseless against the rogues. Hiding at the edge of their camp, Lamia had struck a passing bandit with her strongest spell. The man barely flinched. Lamia remembered his shout, his cudgel descending … then, nothing. For the life of her she couldn’t figure out how the Draenei had gotten involved.

He ignored her pleas for an explanation. Lamia knew that their races had forged an uneasy alliance, but there was nothing friendly in the Draenei’s treatment of her. Although the creature had probably saved her from an ugly fate at the hands of the bandits he showed no sign of wanting to release her. Lamia had been healed, but still the Draenei kept her at his little camp. Sometimes he left for hours at a time to hunt or run other, more mysterious errands, but he had set up some kind of spell or totem to watch her. Only minutes after she wandered into the trees, the Draenei came crashing through the underbrush in a foul temper. Lamia healed fast with the help of his heathen charms, but being struck by one of the creature’s huge fists was like being hit in the face with a shovel. She frowned, remembering her most recent expedition. He hadn’t hit her, but neither had he been gentle as he dragged her back to camp. No, the Draenei was no ally of hers.

It was time to try a new tactic. The Draenei was seated on a stump across the clearing, idly polishing his mace. Lamia willed herself to calm and concentrate. The magic was sluggish and unresponsive when it came, but come it did. Keeping her movements slow and unobtrusive, she rolled the tiny ball of dark magic in her hands. It had as much substance as a shadow, but there was a feeling of weight to it. When it was as solid as she could make it, Lamia leapt to her feet in one fluid motion and flung her hands wide.

Nothing happened. The Draenei glanced up from his work, grinning. “You like your new bracelet? A friend made it for me.”

Bewildered, the warlock looked down at her wrist. Roughly shaped beads were woven onto a twist of wire. They glimmered as she raised her wrist up to examine the crude trinket more closely. Their ugly purple glow faded as she watched. “It’s magical,” she said slowly.

“You could say that.”

Lamia bared her teeth, focusing her energy once more. The ball of shadow dissipated as soon as it formed. The beads’ light winked and died. “What did you do to me, you disgusting thing?”

“I didn’t do anything. I told you I had a friend make it.” Losing interest once more, the Draenei bent his head to examine the mace’s shaft.

The creature’s dismissive manner made Lamia’s blood boil. With her head clear and free of pain, she was no longer the meek creature he had captured. It would have been wiser to bide her time, but Lamia’s temper overrode her common sense. She hiked up the frayed robe the Draenei had given her and fled. Lamia hadn’t gone more than two paces into the woods when the Draenei’s spell hit her in the back. She reeled into a tree and fell, fighting back a scream. It took several minutes for the agonizing cold of the shaman’s frost shock to fade. Lamia hauled herself to her feet, shivering miserably. The Draenei had left his mace in the clearing and stood before her, arms folded across his chest. The flat white eyes stared at her impassively. Lamia lunged at his face, her hands hooked into claws. The Draenei swatted her out of the air with one powerful hand.

On her back in the dirt for the second time that morning, Lamia took her time in getting up. The Draenei stood still, watching her. She got to her knees slowly, holding a hand to her aching side. Too bad she had fallen away from the tree. It would have been easier to pull herself up using it to balance herself. She wouldn’t crawl for the alien bastard, though. Oh, no. Lamia crouched instead, waiting for her strength to return.

The Draenei let her struggle. He moved back a step once she had gained her feet, giving her space. Lamia glared at the creature. The blow had cooled her anger, but the indifference on the Draenei‘s face filled her with rage. The young woman breathed deeply, forcing her emotions under control. She wouldn’t escape from him like this. The Draenei seemed amused by her turmoil. His lips twitched in a smile that was even more offensive than the blank face he had shown her earlier. Lamia snarled soundlessly at him.

Before Lamia could recoil, the Draenei grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her closer to him. “Seems you’ve recovered.” He laughed, sharp teeth flashing. “Haven’t you learned not to fight me yet?”

“Leave me be,” she spat, shoving ineffectually at his chest. The Draenei responded by drawing her closer, almost hugging her against him. His deep laugh resonated through her body as she was crushed to him.

The alien bowed his head over her shoulder so that his mouth was next to her ear. “I like the new you.” His lips grazed the edge of her ear as he whispered. A chill ran down Lamia’s spine. She began to squirm in his grasp. Suddenly his hand was around her neck, the claws pressing deep into her flesh. “Stop it. It was cute, but I’ve had enough.” The amusement had fled from his voice. The alien’s strange accent grew stronger with his anger. “You fight me now, and I will kill you. We have an understanding?”

Unwillingly, Lamia nodded. The pressure around her neck disappeared. Without warning, the alien scooped her up and began to carry her bodily back to his camp. She squeaked in dismay, prompting another laugh from him. “Be quiet, little Laamya. I will be kind to you.”

Lamia had her doubts about that. “How do you know my name?” This was the most she had spoken with the surly creature. She had certainly never traded small talk with him.

The alien snorted contemptuously. “Read it in your book of magic. Careless of you, to write your true name on it like that. Don‘t you witches believe names have power?” Her book. In her sick daze prior to her capture, Lamia had seen him burn it. She clenched her fists, fighting back the urge to strike him. It wouldn’t do any good, and she feared his retaliation.

Lamia’s spark of anger turned to fear when the alien set her down almost gently on his bedroll. He sat beside her, putting one heavy palm on her stomach before she could roll away. “What are you doing?”

The alien didn’t respond. He gazed at her thoughtfully, his blank white eyes traveling over her body. The shapeless rag of a dress that covered the warlock was hardly immodest, but under those eyes Lamia felt naked. She trembled with the strain of lying still and submissive. Lamia had no doubts that the Draenei would make good on his promise to kill her if provoked. She cleared her throat. “What, please, are you doing?”

The Draenei smiled. With that dusky, purple-hued skin and those curling horns Lamia could almost believe she was looking at a true demon. She shuddered at the smile and turned her head away. The Draenei caught her chin. “Look at me.” Reluctantly, Lamia obeyed, gritting her teeth as she met the creature’s stare.