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I fight the urge to roll my eyes at him. “I have a much higher pain tolerance than you can imagine, Volkan.” I mutter, shrugging my shoulders as he takes another bite.
“Sure you do.” His voice drips with sarcasm before switching back to the topic beforehand.
My attention is taken from the conversation by the pride unwillingly bubbling in my chest as I watch him do so. He actually enjoys my cooking. I look down at my own plate to help hide the smile I’m desperately trying to hide.
Volkan seems to be in his own little world. While we got off to an incredibly rocky start, I’m starting to feel a bit better. Maybe the Mother was right about him. She put me here for a reason. I smile at the thought. The Mother always knows what’s best.
“There was so much screaming. I remember fighting the strongest creature there, seeing how his life faded from his eyes as I gave the final blow. How the others ran when they knew there was no hope for them. Cowards. Always expecting someone else to fix the problems. I’m happy I got to destroy it. I reveled in the fact that I brought them to their knees.That I caused so much destruction during and after the battle.” His purple eyes remain distant, a faint smile pulling at his lips.
I feel a shiver run up my spine as the reminder rears its ugly truth. This creature is dangerous and despite my better judgment I catch his gaze.
My hands perch themselves under my chin as I try to calm myself. “What battle was it?” I ask. Volkan’s expression doesn’t change.
“The battle on Protheka.”
106
VOLIKAN
Sitting only a few seats from her allows me to see every expression captured in her face. My human concubine, Anastasia. I watch her curious expression as she asks me questions about my life before.
Foolish creature- does she not understand the danger she is in? My kind devours lesser beings like her. I am not a companion, or a guide to demonology; I am her warden, her jailer.
She is the prize I have been given for ripping my enemies apart.
My irritation only grows, even as I answer her questions. Why is she unafraid of me- what allows her to be so calm? Any other human in her circumstance would be terrified, cowering in the corner like some weak, beaten animal.
But Anastasia only prepared a meal. She maintained her wits long enough to survive being in the same room as two ferocious demons, and even managed to send one away. Now she sits before me- plying me with delicious food, and trying to gather information from me.
That’s it, my mind supplies, she’s only using you to try and gain an advantage. She is just another pathetic creature- one who will turn on you the first chance she gets, the voice in my mind sneers. There can be no other reason for her kindness- she is simply trying to glean a weakness from listening to my tales, so that she can cling to the hope of escape.
My eyes narrow imperceptibly, suspicious of her motives. This Anastasia appears sincere in her attention- but what if it really is all a ploy? I may be one of the Demon King’s favored mercenaries, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be too happy if I let one of his captured humans escape.
Offspring are a commodity among our kind- the rarity of Matrons means that only a few demon spawn can actually be sired, and fewer still possess the strength to make it past childhood. For the King to bestow upon me a female to mate in order to ensure our race’s survival is a high honor- but more acclaim means more enemies.
Now more than ever, I must be on my guard. I doubt this waif of a woman could ever seriously harm me, but that doesn’t rule out the possibility that she could be trying to root out a weakness of mine.
So the little thing wants to hear tales of my fighting, then? After a lifetime surviving on the battlefield, I have more than a few stories to share. Memories of my enemies laying torn and shredded at my feet flash through my mind- why not share with my new pet?
“Out of all the battles I’ve fought, I have to say that the raid on Protheka is one of my easier fights,” I start, twirling my knife absently. Watching her face fall as I predicted is satisfying, so I don’t bother to mask my sneer.
“Your world is definitely one of the more benign we’ve assaulted, make no mistake. So many weaklings, farmers and elves alike. Your peoples’ screams were like music to my ears that day.”
The terror of the raid still keeps me awake some nights. As a demon I require very little sleep, but sometimes a rest from the haunting memories would be a welcome reprieve. I have never gloried in the carnage my kind is capable of, and the berserker rage that pulses within me is a beast I prefer to keep under a cage of self-discipline and skill.
My human prisoner however, doesn’t need to know that. I need her fear, and to crush her spirit. If I don’t break her, her enrapturing eyes may overpower me still.
“Kidnapping your leader was the easiest of all. The man hardly put up a fight- claiming mercy for his people, like an old fool. We took everything from you, and your strongest could barely lift a finger.”
Anastasia looks downcast, hollow and tense. I imagine her memories are also terrible, for different reasons, but I refuse to let her forget. There is nothing but danger here now, and she is a prisoner of war- just like the rest of us under the Demon King’s claw.
“Are fighting and destroying really the only things you are capable of?” she asks quietly. She is cool, collected, and the tragedy behind her eyes pierces me.
“Lives were ruined that day, and so many suffered. Can you not witness all that misery, and not empathize? Are you really such an animal you are incapable of feeling anything?”
“You and your kind are the ones that are animals,” I snarl, hackles raised. The carapace at my shoulders vibrates in irritation.
“That is why you lost. Why should I sympathize with those who are incapable of defending themselves?”
