The Touch of Demise │18+

37: Mind-Fuck

GRACE

When the sun rose, Demise made love to her. She knew that he did so because he didn't want to feel what he was feeling. He needed to bury his sorrows and the way he could was by burying himself in her. His light. His life. 

Grace made breakfast for everyone in the palace, and then Goliath took her away to train. 

Sweat pooled on her brow as Goliath's sword clashed with hers. They were inside today, fencing and weight training. 

"Good. You're getting faster."

She ignored his compliment because her mind was racing with a million other things. She hated humans. She swung hard. She hated what they did to him, to her mate. 

"What was he like before humans took him?"

Goliath stayed silent for a moment, attacking her. She defended herself and rolled to a new position where she stood. 

"Good feet movement." He swung his sword in his hand. "He tried to connect with the kingdom more. He'd throw parties even though he couldn't attend. He'd pour money into things he loved."

"What did he love?"

"He loved gardens. He loved anything that reminded him of life. He loved it even if he had to watch from a distance."

"I hate them," she whispered. 

"Who?"

He knew. She knew he knew. "Humans. They took him, they tortured him, they mutilated him, they-"

"It doesn't matter."

"How could you say that?" Her attacks grew harder. The sound of metal against metal filled her ears, making her skull vibrate. Their swords clashed so violently that her hand buzzed and became numb. She threw her weapon into her other hand. 

"That is your weak hand."

"I can still keep up."

"Doubtful."

There was no doubt in her mind that she could, but she wasn't even concerned with proving him wrong. She was concerned with her mate. Her mate who spent the entire night in her arms, telling her how...filthy he felt. And it broke her heart. The anger she felt boiled under her skin. She loved him. She loved him so much and she failed to protect him even all those years ago. Even before she knew they were mates. 

He slowed his attacks, she could tell, but she held firm. 

"What are you suggesting then," he prodded. He stepped away from her, bouncing between feet, coaxing her into an attack. "You want to kill them all?"

"They don't exist."

"Yes, they do. They're in villages. There are some. So, what shall we do? Go into their homes and take their children? Kill the elders?"

"Stop that." She said. "I would never say that. That is not me."

"And yet you hate them? You hate them without knowing them."

"Yes."

"And that upsets you."

"Yes!" In a moment of emotion, he had dis-sword her. He used her emotions to beat her and she refused to let that stand. She had never continued the battle after being de-weaponed, but today she neared the point of his sword. That point gently picked her chest and if she had been calmer, she would have seen the poetry in it. 

"It upsets me because I hate them, and I know hating all of them is not fair. They're not immortal. The people who hurt him have been dead for centuries, and yet..." That bead of hate fell into her stomach and bloomed. That wasn't who she was. That was never who she was.