--It’s in Your Blood - Chapter 8--

*Content warning. Once again, this chapter is somewhat milder than the previous ones. However, it does contain questionable consent and blood. It also reveals the protagonist’s enjoyment of bleeding, which can be triggering. However you slice it, it’s not wholesome erotica. It’s in Your Blood, as a whole, contains themes of self-harm. If you have a history of self-harm, consider whether or not you’ll be triggered by its depiction. As always, you’ll be notified of the content at the start of each chapter.*

The morning air sickened me as I sat on a bench in Daisy’s pajamas. At that moment, I think anything would have sickened me if I’m being honest. Bitter doesn’t begin to describe how I felt. My life had crumbled. I could try to rebuild or just take what was offered that I had no control over. Or, maybe I should have just talked to my mother or tried to get in contact with my sisters. Yes, I think that would have been the smarter choice, but my mind was occupied.

It was occupied by a hatred of the world and a desire for the demon. The world took everything, the demon offered… something. I wasn’t even fully certain, but my body yearned for him.

I needed help. In a lot of ways, really, but specifically with my current situation. My home was in shambles. It was unsafe depending on which side of my bickering brain you asked. I was stuck in somebody else’s pajamas with no money to speak of. I was still light-headed from blood loss. I needed help, I needed to recuperate.

But while I wouldn’t say Colin and Daisy were my only friends, they were the ones I typically trusted and confided in. I certainly wasn’t going to visit one of my regulars and ask them for protection from my demon rapist. It was hard enough telling it to the ferrets, and even then, I withheld details. So, it seemed as though I had to run to my family or go back and try to make nice with the previously polyamorous ferrets, and both possibilities caused knots to form in my stomach.

No, fuck it. I was just going to go back to my shack and try to at least get supplied. I hoped against hope that no one had realized my home was unlocked and took my wallet.

---

No such luck. My shack was in worse shape than how it had been left by the ferret and demon’s fight. The window next to my bed had been smashed and, apparently, it had rained because my mattress was soaked. Someone had plainly entered while I was out, and not only was my wallet gone, but so were some of my belongings and, strangely enough, various reagents and blood samples.

Thankfully, they hadn’t made off with my clothes, so I could at least get out of my pajamas.

I took a moment to search through my things for anything helpful. A scalpel; always useful for someone who creates magic from blood. That was it. From the shattered remains of my old life, the only things useful to me were clothes and a blade. Maybe that says something about how little we actually need to survive, or perhaps it just shows how meaningless and unfulfilling my life was.

Before I could feel too badly about myself, I was shaken from my trance by what sounded like either gunshots or an explosion. Hunters that have lost their way and wandered too close to town, perhaps, but something felt wrong in the pit of my stomach.

I rushed out of my home and looked around. I saw nothing, so I hurried down the road in the direction I thought I heard the sound coming from. After a time of hearing and seeing nothing, I heard another distant bang. Then I heard shouting.

I hurried to find the source. Down the winding residential streets, up a path that leads into the hills, through the trees. The shouting grew more recognizable; panic and anger. The smell of gunpowder hung in the air.

As I crested the top of a hill, I could clearly hear the words being said. I slowed my walk, hoping to listen in on what was being said.

“I’d swear I hit it, I thought I saw blood,” said one voice.

“If it were bleeding, there would be a trail,” another voice said impatiently, “but we’ve lost it entirely. It’s like it disappeared.”

“Would you two shut up,” said a third voice. “We need to find it. We can’t have it continue to run around drinking the blood of livestock and raping maidens.”

He was talking about the demon, I was sure of it. Also, I assume I was the maiden he spoke of. That’s embarrassing. Unless I wasn’t the only maiden. A hint of jealousy crept into my mind, followed by sickening shame. I tried to overlap the feeling with hatred, but I found it was too difficult to muster.

The mention of the demon being injured but not leaving a blood trail had, however, given me an idea. I took my scalpel and made an incision on my eyebrow. As the blood ran towards my eye, I focused myself. I let it run onto the surface of my eye, coating it with its warmth. The second sight.

It had the desired effect. I found I was standing over top of a spattered trail of glowing fluid. The beast’s blood, I had no doubt. I hurried to follow it, only slightly amused by an obvious shift in my priorities. A few weeks ago, my primary concern would be how a creature could mask its blood. Now, I only wanted to find the demon. I didn’t know why. My mind was flooded with thoughts, but they all compelled me to find him.

While the demon may have concealed his blood, he was less adept at hiding the path of destruction that he had carved through the forest. Displaced undergrowth and broken branches were common. I was no hunter, but I felt that even I could track him without the trail of blood. That drove me faster. They’d find him. I needed to find him first.

The path led me through the forest, over a stream, and into a clearing. It was there that I spotted him. He was larger than the last time I saw him, standing taller than most men. However, despite his imposing figure, upon seeing me, he tried to run.

The pain he was feeling was obvious. He seemed more panicked than fearsome at that moment. Then he stopped, turned, and recognition filled his eyes, yet he didn’t move from the spot, instead watching me cautiously. As I stepped forward, he didn’t move, instead turning his whole body to face me.

“You don’t think I’m here to finish you off?” I asked.

“Do you think you could?”

It was a multi-faceted question. Even in his weakened state, did I stand a chance in a fight? But was that how he intended the question. Given the chance, could I slay him? Did I have the will? The want? After everything he had done to me, everything he had taken, I had no desire to harm him. I was robbed of my hatred. In its place was only empathy or something deeper. I allowed the question to go unanswered.

“Are you okay?” I asked instead.

The demon held his hand over a spot on his shoulder that was obviously wounded. Buckshot, most likely. Most hunters in the area favoured the shotgun over a rifle.

“I am not wounded mortally if that is what you’re asking,” he replied.

“Is it possible to mortally wound you?” I asked. “I mean, are you even mortal?”

“In this realm, I am,” the demon replied, almost with a shade of shame in his voice.

“Right.” I had questions, but I wasn’t certain I was prepared for any of the answers.

“You could…”

“You need my blood,” I interrupted. “I know. Sit down.”

A look of confusion washed over his face, but he did as he was instructed and lowered himself onto the ground. As he did, I went to work removing my top. My intention was initially to allow him easy access to my neck and avoid blood splattering onto my clothes, but as I stood there, looking at him, an irremovable thought implanted itself in my mind. A desire. A lust. I tried to shake it, but it was overpowering. Just being near the demon drew me in further.

I unbuckled my belt and removed my pants as well. As I approached him, I’m embarrassed to admit that I may have put extra wiggle on my hips. Was it necessary to further entice the demon? This was what he wanted, wasn’t it?

He leaned back, waiting for me. I climbed atop as he beckoned, straddling his waist. I reached down and took hold of his cock. It was already enlarging, but I ran my fingers down the length of it until it was fully hard. I then guided it to my womanhood. Bigger than I remembered, but I was too overwhelmed with lust to care. I lowered myself onto it. I wasn’t gentle. I hoped he wouldn’t be either.

I let out a soft moan as I lifted myself with my knees and lowered back onto him. I reached up, caressing his face. He looked at me tenderly. Did he feel appreciation that I didn’t run? It was our first… consensual encounter. I suppose whatever spell he had me threw that concept into question. However, at the time, I believed that it was under my own willpower. It was a “fuck you” to a world that treated me so poorly. I didn’t care why. It was something that I wanted and I was going to take it.

The thought of defiance drove me further. I continued to bounce atop the demon. He put his hands on my hips, simply touching them at first, but as our act intensified, he took hold, driving me harder and harder onto him. The savagery of the act was driving me insane. He could have torn me in half and probably would not have satisfied my hunger.

My back arched, and I gripped at my hair. I was full to bursting and ready to explode. I didn’t want the moment to end, but I felt I couldn’t contain any more of the overwhelming ecstasy.

For the demon, however, there would be release. After a furious crescendo, I felt his warm seed fill me. Perhaps I was envious of his climax, but I cared little of my own.

Then his teeth sank into my neck. I had forgotten that this was to come. This was the goal, wasn’t it? Perhaps it was even what I needed, as it felt like that pent-up excitement was finally released. Possibly, it was another part of our relationship, or maybe it’s just because I like to bleed. At that moment, it was better than an orgasm.

We were interrupted by the sound of voices. The hunters. They were going to find me like this. I got to my feet and turned, seeing that they were already looking at us from across the stream. As they took aim, a weakness overcame my body. I fell to my knees as the first shot was fired. As the world spun, I heard a roar of anger and more gunshots. After that, it was just blackness. A nothingness that had become familiar as of late.