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I slept like I’d never slept before, but my dreams were plagued with random, disjointed images, sounds, and sensations that didn’t quite feel like my own. It felt almost like I was watching a movie through someone else’s eyes.
There was a long, dark, abandoned road lit only by a crescent moon. I could see shoes. Boots. Leather combat boots. Well worn, beaten-up, and creased with age. Then there had been the distinct sensation of revulsion and shame that, again, didn’t feel like my own. I’d heard voices as the image changed to some sort of old building filled with random faces I’d never seen before.
I woke up feeling off.
That was the only way I could describe it at first.
I’d felt almost beaten up.
I let myself believe it had to do with the fight for the first day after, but it got clearer and clearer as the days passed that it wasn’t the fight. It was something else. But I had no idea what to call it, what had caused it.
All I knew was I felt achy and slow. Worn out.
Almost like when humans say they are “coming down with something.”
Except I wasn’t human. And I couldn’t come down with anything.
As the next day progressed, there were more flashes of images, sounds that didn’t come from around me, just shit that wasn’t right.
I thought I was going crazy. Even though that shit wasn’t exactly possible either. You had to have a soul to lose it like that.
I didn’t go to my club about it. Even though I knew that if anyone in the world had answers for me, it would be Ace with his millions of books and his thirst for knowledge that had been a part of him since we’d all gotten trapped on this cursed human plane.
I figured if I tried to tell him, I would have to explain about the shit with the demonslayer. And that wasn’t going to end well for any of us.
So I just… endured in silence.
Eventually, it stopped getting quite so disorienting when it happened. I even started to focus enough to try to get some clues about what the flashes were of, where they were, what they might be trying to tell me. I got nothing for days, though. At least, nothing I could go on.
Then, one day, I got a flash.
And it was of a familiar area in a town not far off.
I didn’t stop to think, to wonder if it might be some sort of trap. I got on my bike and I flew in that direction. I had the foresight to park a bit away and go the rest of the way on foot.
Then I saw her.
In a red plaid skirt and white tank top.
The demonslayer.
I didn’t even know her name at that point.
But there she was.
Like a fucking ray of light after an eternally dark, dreary winter.
Don’t get me wrong, I knew she’d been beautiful when I’d first seen her. Blonde, curvy, green-eyed. This felt different though. It was almost overwhelming how gorgeous she was to me at that moment. It was a kick to the chest, to the gut, and to the groin all at once.
The impact of her sent me back a step.
Then the voice started again.
Mine.
Minemineminemineminemine.
Even as those thoughts formed, my body started to react. I could feel my horns poking out of my forehead, my fingertips sharpening to points, my tongue forking, and then the burning ache in my back as my wings started to unfold.
It was then that shit got clear real fast.
The flashes I’d been getting in my head weren’t random. They weren’t from me losing my fucking mind. They were flashes of the life the demonslayer was living. Places she was seeing, people she was talking to, feelings she was experiencing.
Revulsion. Shame.
That realization was like another kick to my gut as I came to grips with the truth. That those feelings were about. Me. About fucking me.
That strange voice inside of my head growled at that, objected to it, wanted to believe anything else.
But why?
Why would any part of me give a flying fuck what some random demonslayer thought about sleeping with me?
Mine.
I didn’t have the right word for what it was at that time, but I knew without a doubt that something inside of me, something primal, something I didn’t even begin to understand, wanted her.
No.
It was more than want.
It was a need.
Some part of me needed her.
Needed to see her, to feel her, to touch her.
It was a craving like nothing I’d ever experienced before. It took every bit of self-preservation I had not to move out from my hiding spot and greet her.
The only thing holding me back was the level of panic I felt at not being wholly in control of whatever was going on in my body and in my mind.
