Chapter 29

It was normal for the Diablons to sleep out in the open when they could. They had no houses, no furniture, few possessions. When it rained, they slept in caves or hunkered beneath dense canopy, their cloaks enough to keep the cold at bay. They had no books, no written language, few beliefs. They believed in God, as man did, but it was a harmless distant figure, one which demanded no obedience and dealt no punishment. There were few rules, few etiquettes, the rare law.

To Lilitha, they lived like animals. They never worked. They rarely shouldered responsibility. All they seemed to do was sleep and devour and rut. True, they could be creative: Carmella and her curious jewelry, Silus and his carvings, but they were childish things. Where was the ambition? Where was the drive to make themselves greater?

“For what purpose?” Damon asked. “When we have all that we need and could ever want?”

It was deep into the night, and they were alone together. A brook gurgled nearby. A frog croaked. The nights were still cold, though the days were hot and bright. Damon had lit a small fire, and they were both curled inside their cloaks. Damon sat opposite, hair wild, eyes glinting, a basket lying open in front of his lap, the flesh inside partly devoured. Lilitha’s basket was still covered, sitting untouched by her side.

“But life could be so much more,” she said. “You just don’t know it.”

“I didn’t realize your life with the humans was so complete. Maybe you want to return?”

Lilitha pursed her lips. “My life is not what I mean. I was poor. The rich live wondrous lives. They own many things, animals and lands. All dream to be like them.”

Damon scoffed. “Only the foolish. I have land. The forest provides all I need. And what use have I for gold or for things? Clothes, carts and horses,” he spat, “houses and servants. We Diablons have lived alongside humans for generations. We see all that goes on. And there is a great cost to such a way. We live simple lives. Always have and always will. No,” he dismissed, “I have no desire for man’s self-imposed torments.”

Lilitha had no response.

He suddenly grinned, got to his knees and crawled over, steady and intent, like a predator on the hunt.

“What is so wrong with the life you have now?” he purred. “Don’t you like spending your nights in ecstasy? Your days in my arms? Is that not luxury enough for you?” The ground cover crunched beneath his weight. His horns glinted against the flames. “Or maybe you prefer your bones to ache, your joints rubbed raw?” He was crawling over her now. Lilitha lay down beneath him, panting. “If work is what you want, I am sure there is something we can find.”

When she didn’t answer, his grin broadened and he straddled her. He shrugged off his cloak, then saw her basket and stopped.

“You haven’t eaten.” He pulled away and Lilitha sat up. He picked up the basket and handed it over. “Do not fight it.”

Lilitha took it. Damon smiled as she ate, and for an instant, a sudden urge to slap him blazed in Lilitha’s heart. But it was quickly gone, lost to her hunger. She had been eating every night and she could feel the effects of it. She was becoming stronger, more energetic. Lilitha had never realized how tired she used to be. She licked at a trickle of blood soaking into her sleeve.

She finished the slab and gazed at Damon. They were making love a lot too, sometimes three or four times in a day, sometimes one after the other. Her lust for him was insatiable and it was only getting worse.

Damon’s eyes were bright.

They were like animals.

“~Harder~,” Lilitha gasped, grabbing at his horns.

And he did, plowing into her like the devil he was. She wrapped her legs around his waist and clung tight, pulling him in to even greater depths.

“Harder, Damon! ~Harder.~”

Sweat trickled down his brow. He grunted and grimaced as he slid in and out of her, so hard her breasts bounced against her chest and she could feel his balls banging against her. Then he grabbed her by the hair and pulled back her head, and Lilitha gasped as he sucked at her throat, rupturing inside her with a shudder. Lilitha grimaced, then gurgled as her vagina clung onto him tightly, then began tugging hard, over and over again until the waves of her orgasm diminished to nothing.

He slumped against her, panting, curling his fingers through her hair, then rolled onto his back with a sigh.

Burning hot, Lilitha lay sprawled on the ground letting the cool air whisk away the sweat from her breasts. She stared up at the canopy. A light breeze rustled the topmost branches. Here and there she could see the twinkle of a star between the leaves. She glanced at Damon and saw he was staring at her.

“What?” she said.

He braced himself on his elbow and lowered his chin onto his hand. He played with her breasts, letting her nipples slide between his fingers. “You’re so beautiful and getting more and more beautiful every day.” He ran his hand along her hip. It was true. Lilitha smiled. It was only days since she’d arrived and she was already feeling like a woman, not a girl any longer.

He moved his hand between her thighs, and she opened her legs. He stroked her clitoris with the tip of his finger, then pushed deep into her opening.

“Deeper,” she grunted.

And he did. He slid his fingers in and out easily, her vagina slick with their cum. She seized his wrist as she thrust against his hand. A minute later, she came again, clenching hard around his fingers.

Chuckling, Damon eased his fingers away with a naughty grin and dragged them wetly between her breasts. “You are going to be a formidable Diablon one day, Lila. I have no doubt. I’ve never known a female to have such an appetite.”

Flushed and throbbing, Lilitha sat up. She wrapped her cloak back around her and stood. Damon yawned and stretched, his sticky dick lying against his taut abdomen.

He folded his arms behind his head and looked up at her, smiling. “Where you going?”

“I might go for a walk. It’s a nice night for it.”

“All right. I’m going to snooze for a bit. You’ve worn me out.” He winked at her. “‘til next time.”

The forest was strangely quiet tonight, except for an occasional scurrying through the leaves. She walked with her hands outstretched, brushing her fingers against the leaves and the flowers and the pitted trunks. For the first time in her life, she felt happy.

She headed toward Clara’s little home, knowing exactly where it was. It was like the trees were pointing out the way, the breeze telling her where to go. She had never felt such a connection with everything around her. She could no longer deny it: she was changing, becoming more a Diablon at every passing moment.

Halfway through her journey, she came upon a trickling stream and washed herself, gasping at the icy water. She finished quickly, donned her cloak and went on. As she walked, the trees began to whisper, a soft breeze brushed against the ground cover. Her senses prickled. She looked around. She was being watched. It wasn’t Damon or Silus. She knew who it was. His musk carried on the air. She turned and faced him.

He stood as he did the very first time they had met, so big he had to stoop beneath the branches. He was wrapped in his cloak, hood up, bronze legs bare from the knees down, except for a pair of boots he had either found or fashioned to fit his massive feet. His horns peeked out from his hood, and Lilitha’s heart hammered at the sight of them.

“What do you want?” she said.

“What do you think?”

“I can’t give that to you. I’m Damon’s.”

He gave an angry sniff. “You’re just as much mine.”

“Isn’t that my choice?”

He pulled off his hood, then dropped his cloak. He waited, daring her to resist. Lilitha stared at his horns, at his broad chest and hard abdomen. She tried to turn her eyes away but they kept returning to his prodigious erection.

Lilitha shut her eyes. “I’m not a whore.”

And she turned and left.

To both her relief and disappointment, Mateus didn’t follow. By the time she reached Clara’s little home, the sun was rising.

She kneeled before the little gap between the roots of the tree, drawing aside the curtain of vines. Carefully, she crept inside and snuggled into her back, holding her.

Lilitha woke late in the day, and they spent the afternoon together.

It was hot and bright, and they took off their cloaks, the sun blazing in streams through the canopy, catching on their hair: Clara glowed, Lilitha blazed.

Clara kept looking at her. “You look different.”

“I feel different.”

Clara was frowning.

“What’s wrong?”

“I want to go home,” Clara said.

Lilitha lowered her eyes. “I know.” The guilt sat deep in Lilitha’s belly. She’d been so consumed with Damon and Silus and herself that she hadn’t been thinking of Clara nearly enough. “I’ll keep speaking with Damon. But he’s just so …” She shook her head, then stopped, asking her pointedly, “You haven’t seen any of the monsters, have you?”

Clara shook her head. “Nothing. Like you said I wouldn’t. Though I did hear roaring the other night. It was terrible.”

“They won’t hurt you.”

“You keep saying that but how do I know? Have you—have ~you~ seen them?”

“No,” she lied. “Damon keeps them tied up.”

Clara narrowed her eyes suspiciously, then looked away.

“I’m sorry, Clara. I’ll keep trying to get you home. You trust me, don’t you?”

Clara hesitated, then gave a small nod that Lilitha didn’t believe at all.