Damphir - 8. Chapter 8

Today Fougue is silent as he works, straightening out my wing and probing with gentle fingers. There are some places where it hurts but it’s much better than yesterday and it feels good to stretch it out, like stretching out your body when you’ve been curled up.

I feel awkward though. It keeps going over and over in my mind... what did he see? What does he think about what he might have seen? Who is he going to tell? What is he going to tell? What is whoever he tells going to think? Aaargh... it’s driving me nuts.

“So... um... what...? Did you...? I mean what are you...?”

“You can sit up now Glory,” Fougue says mildly in a voice that reveals nothing.

“But...”

“Try to retract your wings. Let’s see what happens.”

“I...”

“Try your wings Glory.”

Damn. He clearly isn’t going to talk about it with me. Does that mean he isn’t going to talk about it with anyone else?

“Aw...” A stab of pain shoots through me as I retract my wings, but it’s bearable and once they’re fully retracted the pain disappears and it feels pretty good.

“How was that?”

“It hurt a bit but not too bad.”

“Try manifesting them and then retracting them.”

It hurts but not too much. The come out; they go back and nothing truly horrible happens.

“The wing has healed remarkably well,” Fougue says as he packs away his pills and poultices unused. “That will be your vampire nature. Vampires always heal ridiculously quickly.”

Closing the satchel Fougue slings it across his shoulder and moves a package he had put down on the table onto the bed.

“What’s that?”

“Some nice clothes.”

“Clothes? Why? The clothes you’ve already given me are nicer than any I have ever worn before.”

“These have been... specifically requested.”

“Requested? By whom?” A worm of excitement and fear is squirming in my stomach. Can it be? Is it...?

“Sartorian. He requests that you wear them to dinner tonight in his private dining room.”

“Sartorian? Tonight? Is he coming home today?”

“It would not be possible for him to dine with you tonight if he were not home.”

“But where...? I mean I’m in his room and...?”

“There are many rooms in this house Glory, I’m sure he’ll manage.”

“Um... yes. So... what time?”

“Six o’clock. He wishes to speak to the others first.”

“He isn’t going to... Fougue it will only make it worse if he...”

“Sartorian will do as Sartorian will do. No one determines it but him.”

“Oh. Is he...?”

“I’m sure that he will be able to answer many of your questions over dinner, Glory. Now perhaps you would like to take a shower and refresh yourself.”

He doesn’t say the words ‘you stink’ but I can see from the look in his eyes that is what he’s thinking. After everything that happened in the night, he’s right.

Even before he shuts the door I have to open the parcel. I have to see what kind of clothes Sartorian wants me in for dinner. Rover draws closer, curious too.

“Fuck.”

“Wow.”

“Well, these are cool.” Knee length leather boots with more buckles and studs than I can count. “And this I can live with.” Leather trousers so soft they could have been made of silk. So what, if they lace up the sides showing a bit of flesh between, although the fact that they are low on the hips doesn’t make me feel completely comfortable. “And this I LOVE.” A leather jacket, as soft as the trousers and the same matt black, fitted in to the hip with a double set of silver buttons fastened with fine silver chains. The same buttons decorate the cuffs of the sleeves. “But there is NO way I am going to wear this.” A white silk shirt with ruffles at neck and cuff and a wine red silk cravat. “No way at all.”

“I think it would suit you.” I turn sharply to stare at him but he’s grinning.

“Okay... you wear it then.”

“In what world do you think that would anywhere near fit me?”

“Hmm... Well okay, I’ll wear most of the clothes, but the shirt is going bye-bye.” Before Rover can stop me, before he even knows what I intend to do, I take the offending item and throw it into the heart of the fire.

“Glory, what are you doing?”

Rover looks horrified and the expression on his face makes me giggle. “Now there’s no way they are going to make, manipulate, threaten or bully me into wearing it, because it doesn’t exist.”

“It was silk, must have cost a fortune.”

“Who cares? It seems that Sartorian is rich as hell so he can well afford to lose one shirt.”

“Your funeral, mate.” In a mercurial change of mood he frowns, suddenly anxious. “Do you think Fougue is going to tell him about us?”

My stomach flips and threatens to deposit its contents on the floor in front of me but I keep my face impassive and my voice level. “So what if he does? I don’t belong to Sartorian.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that.”

“What!” I almost slap him, almost. He takes a step back, shock and a fair bit of fear on his face. “I do not belong to Sartorian. I do not belong to anyone. I would rather freeze to death in the forest than be a pampered little pet to some vampire lord. If he thinks that’s what he’s got he can damn well think again.” Okay I admit I’m a bit overdramatic but I’m kind of committed now and when I gather up the clothes in my arms I really do intend to throw them in the fire. I’m fortunate that Rover is so much bigger than me. Even so, when he throws his arms around my and tackles me to the floor, I still try to throw the bundle of clothes towards the fire. It’s just as well I have a terrible throwing arm.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Rover gasps, struggling to hold on to me as I writhe and struggle trying to get free to complete my task.

“I will not be owned,” I hiss, “not by Sartorian or anyone else. I will not wear his stupid clothes so he can think I owe him anything. I am not a possession.”

“Calm down Glory. That’s not what I meant.”

It’s not easy to calm cat once his hackles are up and tail thrashing. At the moment my tail is wrapped around his neck and I can't help but notice that is face is turning red. Good.

“It’s what you implied and it all fits. He brought me here, healed the wounds that were mostly inflicted by him in the first place, fed me and let me stay in his room. Why else would he do that? He wants me to be his pet and this cat does NOT wear a collar. I don’t belong to anyone and I never will. I am not a pet. He does not own me.”

“Glory, for heaven sake calm down before you hurt yourself, or me.”

“I will not. I will NOT wear his filthy clothes to dinner and be paraded around as his private mannequin. I WILL NOT.”

“Okay, okay but please will you stop taking it out on me before you kill me.”

Blinking, I realise that, not only do I have my tail wrapped around his neck, squeezing, but my claws are out and paused on the point of plunging into his throat. Oops.

I retract my claws and tail and flutter my eyelashes at him sheepishly. “Sorry Rover. I know that none of this is your fault.”

“None of this exists anywhere other than in your mind. No one is trying to own you. Don’t you think you should give Sartorian a chance to explain why he brought you here before you go off like a firework and accuse him of all sorts of things that are probably not true?”

“Hmm...” He has a point. “Oh alright. Let me up and I promise I won’t throw the clothes in the fire.”

“And you’ll wear them to dinner?”

“I don’t want to wear his clothes...” I’m brindling again but Rover shakes his head in exasperation.

“Glory all the clothes you have been wearing since you got here are his. If you won't wear his clothes you’ll be going to dinner naked.”

“Oh. Oh well... alright then. I’ll wear the stupid clothes.”

“If I get off you will you promise not to do anything stupid?”

“No. It seems as if everything I do these days is stupid. But I will promise to try and be not quite so stupid.”

“That’ll have to do.”

Rover scrambles to his feet and holds out his hand to me, almost pulling my shoulder out of joint as he yanks me to my feet.

“What are we going to do for the rest of the afternoon?”

“Sleep,” I yawn and sink down on the rug again, “unless you’d rather spend it in bed with me of course.”

Rover colours even though he grins at the teasing tone of my voice. “Under the circumstances I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“What circumstance?” I ask yawning.

“Sar’s home and...” Seeing the look in my eyes Rover backs off. “I mean there is a lot to do to get things ready and I... I have things... I... bye.”

I open my mouth to say something but he’s already gone. He can move fast when he wants to. What shall I do now? I gather the clothes up and dump them on the chair, my fingers lingering on the soft leather. It really is soft. It feels good when I rub my face against it. Blame cat but curling up on the rug around the trousers with part of it under my cheek, breathing in the scent, makes me purr like crazy and fall asleep with the biggest smile on my face.

I have an inner sense of time so there is no fear of oversleeping and by the time I stretch and yawn I still have an hour before dinner; just right for taking a shower and getting dressed. It looks like that could take a time. Ewww, my cheek is stuck to the trousers with drool. Ah well, it will dry.

I don’t recall ever having had a shower before I came here. The only time I cleaned my body was during the midnight dips I took in the summer in the lake in the park and the closest I have ever come to a shower is standing under the fountain, which was always cold.

The experience of standing under a spray of hot water in a confined space is something new and almost orgasmic for me. Ohhhh, the sheer sensation of water running over my head and shoulders. Putting my hands on the frosted glass and bowing my head I let the water run onto my neck. It took a while before I realised that I could concentrate a powerful jet on any part of my body as well as just a fine diffused mist and just about everything in between, but since I made the discovery I have been experimenting.

“Ahhhh.” It is a sigh of pure pleasure. Even cat is purring and he hates water. I am a little nervous about the thing I am about to do next. It might hurt but...

“Ah, ah, ah, ah...” Fuck that is so... so... “Ah, ah...” The jet is hitting me right between the shoulder blades and if I move just a little; “Ahhhh...” and then when I... “Oh...oh...”

I’m sure I’m not the first guy to...um... make a sticky mess in the shower but there can’t be many who can achieve it without laying a finger on themselves, just letting the water do all the work so to speak.

No orgasm I have ever experienced comes close to those that rip through me after stimulation of my aripa caz. It’s a sensation I couldn’t even begin to describe. It’s... literally mind-blowing and there is no way it I can stop once I have begun. Awareness of everything else fades. I have no sense of time or space, of standing or sitting or lying. I hear nothing, see nothing and feel nothing but the incredible sensations that are radiating from that spot on my back.

“Oh god... god...” I whisper, not because I want to or even because I am aware of doing it... just because that’s what happens. And then... and then... and then... “Aaaaoooohhh.” Even though it is fey who is supplying me with these amazing sensations, cat can’t be denied and howls my release as he always does.

I come to my senses on my knees with my cheek pressed against the glass wall of the shower. The water is hitting my head and pouring over my shoulders, gently caressing my back but not enough to do anything more than send intoxicating aftershocks through my body. Oh fuck that was good.

Vampire comes out and insists that I fastidiously clean myself before stepping out and wrapping a huge fluffy towel around my waist. I am crap at whistling but I do it cheerfully while I towel dry my hair, shave and carefully and thoroughly clean my teeth. Well not when I’m cleaning my teeth of course, then the tune transfers to tuneless humming.

Well, that will do. It’s not as if I’m making a special effort or anything, not as if I need to work hard on my appearance to impress anyone. It’s just that looking good will give me more confidence and I guess, from my racing heart and unsteady stomach that I need all the confidence I can get.

Brushing out my still damp hair I smooth it down and, for the first time, look at it with something less than disgust. Here at least it doesn’t represent a threat to me and so I can finally let myself appreciate its beauty. And it is beautiful. It’s like the stripes on a tabby cat, black and silver, soft as silk and swishing softly as I turn my head from side to side. My fingers rove to my left ear where something sparkles through my hair. It is an earring, silver and crystal, the only thing I have to remind me of my family, my mother. I wish she was here right now. I don’t remember her, not at all, not as a person: but I do remember her smell, her touch, the warmth of her arms and I do remember that, as I was bundled into a car, the car that would take me away from her forever, I tried with all my strength to hold on to her and accidentally ripped the earring from her ear, the earring I have worn in my own ear ever since. I am glad that no one took it away from me when they brought me here.

Oh well, I suppose I had better get dressed. I spent more time in the shower than I had intended. Still rubbing my hair, I sort through the clothes. Hmmm... Oh well.

The trousers fit me surprisingly well. They are snug but not too tight and the gaps at the sides aren’t as wide as I thought they would be. There’s hardly any at all. The boots are awesome, though it takes some time to do up all the buckles. I can't wear the jacket without something underneath though... maybe a black t-shirt. I have one of those, in fact I have more than one. The vampire in me loves black.

My hair is almost dry and I stand in front of the mirror, not really looking into it, just combing my hair through. Mmmm. I let my eyes fall shut and cat starts to purr.

“Fucking shit!!” My eyes fly open and I just about leap out of my skin when hands descend on my shoulders. I didn’t hear the door open or anyone walking across the floor of the bathroom. More surprisingly my sense of knowing when someone is close has completely let me down.

He’s taller than me, but not by much... I think I noticed that before... and he’s looking into the mirror over my head. There is a strange expression in his eyes as they meet mine in the mirror. I can’t speak. His touch, his eyes, his scent. Clearly my instincts don’t see him as a threat. I can't imagine why not.

Twisting out of his grip I turn to face him. “What the hell are you doing, creeping up on me like that?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” His voice is so soft and gentle I find myself smiling without volition, lowering my head and peering up at him through my hair. Hell’s bells, I’m flirting with him. What do I think I’m doing? This is playing with fire. This is madness. So why can’t I stop?

“I...” Oh fuck. His hand touches my cheek and tucks my hair out of my face, leaving his hand there, the thumb brushing over my cheek. My eyes close and I purr. His breath is sweet, kissing my face before his lips meet mine. It’s just a brief kiss, a gentle kiss, one brush of his lips against mine but it makes me shiver.

“I have never kissed someone who purrs before. It is incredibly sexy.”

“I... can’t help it.”

“And I can’t help this.” Sliding his hands around my sides into the small of my back he pulls me gently forwards and takes possession of my mouth which I gladly surrender to him. What the hell is going on? I barely know this man. The last time I was with him he hurt me, almost killed me but I can't stop: I can't do anything but melt into his arms. I don’t want to.

The purring deepens and when he releases my lips I tuck my head into his shoulder rubbing my cheek against the soft silk of his shirt. “Mmmm, you smell nice.”

I feel him smile as he scoops me up into his arms. I snuggle deeper, cat purring, as he carries me into the bedroom and lays me down on the bed. Cat is in heaven and I curl up on my side, watching him through half lidded eyes as he pours himself a drink from a cut crystal decanter that wasn't there earlier.

“Do you want a drink?”

“No. I don’t drink. It makes me loopy.”

“I might like you loopy.”

“Okay then, just a small one.” I sniff at it uncertainly when he hands me the glass. I have no idea what it is. It’s thick and red and for a moment I think it might be blood, but one sniff is enough to tell me that it isn’t. “What is it?”

“Something Fougue makes. It tastes like heaven but I have no idea what’s in it.”

I sip and, oh my god, is he right. Cat purrs noisily and I can’t help but take sip after sip. In between I watch him watching me.

“What?” I ask, tilting my head to one side.

“Sorry?”

“You’re staring at me.”

“Am I? I was just thinking that I have never met anyone like you before. Do you know how beautiful you are?”

Way to go to get right to the point. “No. I’ve spent most of my life hating my looks because they are too distinctive, too dangerous. I don’t think I’m beautiful and I don’t know why you are saying that I am.”

“Because it’s true; and you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“Don’t I?” Why am I letting myself fall into his trap? I know what he is, don’t forget what he did, don’t forget what he was like that first night. He puts the glass down on the table, takes mine out of my unresisting hand and sits down next to me on the bed with a little space between us. He reaches out and strokes my hair. Oooooh yes, that feels good, that feels sooooo good.

“Why did you bring me here?” Damn. That bloody cat is in control so much of the time why doesn’t he let me enjoy the moment now.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I don’t know. At the time I wasn't thinking and in all the time since when I haven't stopped thinking I just... don’t know.”

“That’s crazy.” Oh great, now cat decides to make an entrance, with his hackles up and tail thrashing, not that I’ve transformed thank god. “You literally pick me up off the street and kidnap me, and you have no idea why? You abandon me here for the best part of a week, at the mercy of the freaks who live here and you don’t know why? So what now? Where do we stand? What happens next?”

“I don’t know.”

“So you came here tonight for what? To fuck me and run away again? To leave me here again wondering what the hell happened? What the fuck is going on? I’m not... I don’t belong to anyone.”

“Who the hell said anything about you ‘belonging’ to anyone?”

“Well that’s what it feels like right now. I feel like a possession that you pick up and put down as it pleases you. You drop me, leave me amongst these people not knowing what the hell is going on, come back and dress me like a whore and then what? Am I supposed to melt into your arms, have sex with you and then wake up in the morning and you’re gone again?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? You don’t know what?”

“I don’t know what happens after. I don’t know how I feel about you? I don’t know why I came here tonight? I don’t know what I expected; what I expect?” He is still speaking calmly but the irritation; the frustration is there, simmering under the surface.

“Then how the hell do you expect me to know what’s going on? What do you expect me to do? How can I stay here not knowing what my future is: waiting for you to come and go, to use me as you please? I’m not an object; I’m not a plaything; I’m not a possession and I’m NOT a WHORE.”

“Who the hell said you were?”

“Well you have to admit that the facts seem to point in that direction. A Damphir on the run ‘saved’ and brought back to this place, abandoned until he’s fit, then dressed in leather and seduced by the mater of the house. What does that sound like to you?”

“It sounds like ingratitude. Whatever might happen to you here can’t be worse than what was about to happen to you there. If you remember you were about to be torn apart by wolves.”

“Rather them than you.”

“So it seems.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I know everything that goes on in this house.”

“Fougue had no right to tell you what went on in the privacy of my own room.”

“My room.”

“So I don’t even have my own room now? I’m just meant to hang around waiting for you, keeping your bed warm.”

“I’m losing my patience with you, Damphir. You are an ungrateful brat. I saved your life, shared my home with you, treated your wounds, gave you food, comfort and clothing. And the gratitude I get is having to send half my household out to search for you when you run away, have very expensive clothing burned for no reason and, if you want to talk about whoring then perhaps...”

“Don’t you fucking dare! Don’t you suggest that what happened between me and Rover was whoring! It was good, he... he loves me.”

Sartorian starts to laugh and something inside me snaps. Hackles up, tail out, teeth bared and claws extended I throw myself at him, and not in a good way.