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There were times when Y'Roden just needed to be alone. Not because he was angry with anyone, or brooding, it was just the S'Hean elf in his blood seeking to recharge the energy he thrived on. It was at these times that he returned to the Elven homeland, taking to the wilds and living off the land. It was something all the D'Riel's did from time to time, a necessity of life.
The Prince had been on his own for a few days now, cut off from anyone and anything, just lost in the quiet of his own soul. There was a certain peace to be had in it, even though he missed his wife and children. He had been travelling along Silmeloki Oron, striking out to the north, deeper in to the wilds. Although the lands were warded against outside intrusion, S'Hea had dangers of its own. The wilds could be treacherous, and the beasts deadly.
Ro was completely unaware when the hunter became the prey. Ironwood bow in hand he was tracking a white buck, cat-slit eyes focussed on the trail ahead of him, rather than on the sky above. It was easy to forget, that even here, humanoids could be considered an entrée. The only thing that saved him was the manner of the beast that stalked him. A creature over confident in its abilities as a hunter.
"You smell like a man-child," the voice seemed caught between mimicking a set of pipes and a trumpet, an odd sound that grated on the nerves. Whipping around the half-elf knocked an arrow, catching his tracker within his sight. The face caught him quite off guard, a horrifying mix of man and lion, the massive maw revealing teeth reminiscent of a sabre tooth cat. Large bat like wings kept the sinewy body of a lion hovering in the air, muscles tense, a scorpions tail lashing in excitement as it prepared to spring.
A Manticore. Y'Roden had heard of them before, but had never run across one. Not many did and lived to tell about it, a fact he was well aware of. Fear wasn't an emotion the dark haired elf was familiar with... though he was pretty sure what he was feeling was terribly close to it. Standing stock still he pulled back on the string, his hand shaking slightly as he watched the beast ...
He didn't have long to wait; the thing launched itself at him in rush even as the arrow sang away from the bow. The missile ripped through one shining black wing, throwing the Manticore off balance. Tossing himself to the side Ro dropped the bow, tearing his bastard-sword from the harness at his back. The creature was quicker than he had anticipated and sharp claws dug into his back before he could turn around, slicing through flesh and tearing muscle. A yell of surprise tore from his chest as he twisted, stumbling, his eyes bleeding crimson as the pain hit home. His sword bit into a foreleg, the scent of hot blood filling the air. Elven and Manticore both.
Sharp teeth snapped near Y’Roden’s head, just missing his face, driving him back. It became a dance, a strike of the sword, a slash of claw or fang, each managing a hit every now and then. It was the tail that Ro was really worried about, and with good reason. Adrenaline kept him moving, but somehow he still ended up beneath the Manticore's claws, bellowing in protest at the barbed tip of the tail struck home. Too late he brought up his blade, slicing the tail in half. The beast’s scream was deafening, nearly bursting Ro's sensitive Elven eardrums, but he didn't dare cover them. His life depended on the heartbeat's length of time when the creature reared up, exposing its chest to the half-elf's blade. Wild eyed, Y’Roden drove the sword home, puncturing heart and lungs, a stream of life's blood pouring out over his arm.
Rolling out of the way he never heard the beast fall, his hands were desperately fumbling to pull a dagger from the brace on his chest, drawing the blade across the swelling flesh on his bicep, squeezing the poison laced blood from his veins. Fire.... gods, he was on fire. The pain was exquisite.... in all of his life; he had never experienced such complete agony. Oddly enough he never screamed, but he could feel himself slipping, losing control to the Demon within.
So much pain... so much blood....
He was going to die. He couldn't let that happen. If Y’Roden died... so would Silverthorn, and their unborn children with them. With a dawning horror he realized he couldn't go to her, risking her life was unacceptable. He needed help, but the Demon was to close to the surface... it wasn't safe. "Ghet... " The name left his lips before the thought formed coherently. His ex-lover had withstood the darkness within him in the past... the Demon had spared her life. It was Ro's only chance of surviving.
In a daze he stumbled to his feet, glancing around blindly. In a poison induced stupor he gathered his bow, then yanked his bastard sword free of the Manticore's corpse. It made sense to him at the time, weapons were not easily replaceable. The cold logic of the Demon was already taking over, weapons first, pain first, healing later. Bonds were neatly shut off, the D'Riel web shut down, and then the portal was opened.
Rikers....
By the time he stepped through Ro's eyes were as brilliant a crimson as the blood that coated his body. Bleeding from wounds to the back, chest, and arms, he left a brilliant red trail on the floor as he stumbled in a few steps. "GHET!" The room spun and he went down, hitting the floor hard, his body arching in spasms under the effects of the poison. His D'Riel blood flared, trying to fight it off... a small war engaging as Y'Roden slowly slipped into the depths of his consciousness, leaving something far more dangerous in his place.
Security let Ghet know straight away. Someone had portalled in upstairs, and the only people allowed to do that were her and Galain. She leaned over the monitor in the office. "Where is it?"
"Just outside the medbay on Level Two."
Finally, they brought the image up, and she took an involuntary step backwards. It was Y’Roden, and he was sheeted with blood, she could see that from here. She said something particularly rude, and sprinted off and up the stairs.
She was on her knees beside him before she realised something else was wrong. "Ro, what the hell happ... oh dear gods." Those eyes were all she needed to see. This wasn't at all what she'd thought. She looked up at the guard right behind her. "Don't argue with me, just do what I say." Normally, Ghet ruled by getting on with everyone and always keeping them well-informed. It was safe to say; none of her human staff had ever seen the iron fist before. "Get everyone in their rooms and keep them there. Don't let anyone else up here. Not even you. No-one... oh hell." Her doctor had come out, and was bending over the hurt man. "Okay, help me get him in the medlab, and then you're both out of here. I mean it."
She made herself look at his face, into those eyes. "Let these people help you, okay? And then it'll be just you and me. I can't lift you by myself, you know that. Then I can make the pain stop."
Her mind was racing as they pulled him up off the floor and dragged him towards a bed. And it looked like Dr M'sea was going to argue with her. "Get out! I mean it! So help me woman, if you don't leave I'm going to sack you."
Finally they were gone. A weight lifted off her. Ghet was pretty sure she was safe around the Demon. Or at least, she was pretty sure he wouldn't out and out kill her. He hadn't killed her when Samara had sent him to do just that. But anyone else around here, even in this state, she was pretty sure he could tear them apart without blinking. She set a diagnostic program going and turned away for a moment to lock the door. There were only a half-dozen people who could get in here now, and she'd just thrown two of them out.
Then she turned back to the bed. Gods. No, she could deal with him. He'd known enough to come here, after all. Ro was still in there somewhere. She moved over next to him, to read the panel. She didn't like what it was telling her. "What the hell happened to you," she said, but she was mostly talking to herself.
Beautiful.... those denim blue eyes were familiar. Long... long red hair, deep red... like blood. And the scent... he knew that aroma... Ginseng. She wanted him to do something. Crimson eyes darted to the med-lab assistants; wanting to rip them apart, hear the crack of bone. His thoughts scattered.... what was wrong? He had never felt quite like this before.
The only thing that kept him from ripping the humans to shreds was the odd hold this woman had over him. The Demon didn't understand it, he only knew it had something to do with the Other. Even when Y'Roden was this deeply buried his emotions leaked through at some level. More importantly, he had only been this close to death once before, and he was fairly positive that it was this woman who had brought him back. The pain was a welcome thing, what came afterwards... was not.
He would have laughed under normal circumstances, amused at the fear he inspired. Perhaps he might have even been intrigued by his surroundings... all the cold surfaces and blinking lights.
Ghet was speaking to him.... the words came through in a bit of a haze, but he understood. What had happened? It took a moment, rummaging through the half-elf's memory for the information.
"Manticore," the Demon hissed out, his hand gesturing to his right bicep that was swelled and blackened, oozing green ichor from a large puncture wound. From what the half-elf knew... the venom was a neurotoxin. What was that? Oh ... yes ... paralysis, that would explain the numb sensation in his arm. It was spreading slowly, slower than the secondary element of the poison, the part that was trying to digest him from the inside out. Fascinating.... it was something he would have to look into when he wasn't quite so... busy.
"Gheeetsuuuuhm..." The sound was almost a wheeze, his lungs beginning to fail under the effects of the contagion in his veins.
Ghet swore under her breath. She had no idea what a Manticore was, but she knew poison when she saw it. The wounds that had scared the hell out of her when she first saw him were the least of their problems. And gods, it was spreading.
It was lucky she had the machines to do the thinking for her, because her nerves were starting to shred. She couldn't let Y’Roden die, even if he wasn't really here right now. Luckily, it looked like the poison was very similar to that used by several species of arachnid, spiders and scorpions. Strong, but she didn't have to make anti-venom from scratch. She got the hypo and looked at the demon-elf assessingly. Would he need a bigger dose than Y’Roden would have? Certainly if she'd been sedating him she would have... hells, she'd give him the dose for Ro's weight and see what happened.
"Okay, hold still. I have to inject you with this. It should stop the poison progressing, start to push it back." She was trying very hard not to look him in the eyes. It was easier that way. Well, actually, it was different. She wasn't so afraid for herself, but if she thought of him as Ro, it was kind of awkward. She was very conscious of his body in both cases, but if he'd been himself, at least she could have had someone else with her. Not Galain. Gods, if Galain saw this... her mind shied away, as she watched. The drug did seem to be working.
She leaned over him. "Now, listen, I have to get your clothes off so I can get at these wounds. Can you help me?"
He watched her warily, blood red eyes watching her every move. The Demon didn't resist the hypo spray, realizing its necessity. He could feel it working, slowly it became easier to breathe, his gasps for air less laboured. The agony eased... just a little, the acidic feeling in his flesh receding. Now the pain from his other wounds set in, especially as the affects of the neurotoxin were reversed.
This was the sort of pain he could deal with... and actually enjoy.
His attention snapped to Ghetsuhm as she leaned over him, nostrils flaring, drawing in her scent. Wounds...
"Yes..."
Using brute strength the Demon pushed himself up into a sitting position, snarling in pain as his flesh split open, spilling fresh gouts of blood onto the table. Pulling at the straps he tossed off the brace of daggers and the harness for his bastard sword. The clatter of metal loud in his sensitive Elven ears. His fingers tugged at the laces of his shirt, pulling the blood-saturated material away from his skin.
He watched her all the while, eyes feral, like an animal stalking prey. It was a slow progression punctuated by low growls and the somewhat disturbing sound of fabric peeling away from flesh.
The demon elf's strength surprised Ghet. She'd been expecting him to be weaker. He'd lost so much blood... The scent of his blood brought back images she didn't want to see. Her mouth filled with the taste of it, one she knew. The blood in her own veins raced. Rodi... she'd lost him twice, once to death, and then, ironically, more finally to Silverthorn. When she'd killed him with her own hand, she'd got him back. Now she could never have him again.
And this thing, she could feel its eyes on her, watching her hungrily, predatory. When she moved forward again, she had to make an effort to stop her hands from shaking. Whatever she was feeling, it wasn't all fear. She was damn well going to view this body professionally, though. She had to heal him. She had to take the pain away so Y’Roden had a chance of getting back in control. Once the pain was gone, she could talk him back. She'd done it before. He might not love her any more, but she still knew him.
"You should probably lie back down, I don't want you falling. Now," she held out her hand to him. "Give me your hand, I need a sample. I need to have your DNA so the machines know how to put you back together properly. It won't hurt." She blushed as soon as she said it. Like that was going to bother him. "Please. I don't want you to lose any more blood."
He could smell fear ... and something else. It was the something else that had the Demon intrigued. A few memories started to reveal themselves, blurry.... for he hadn't fully surfaced at the time. Between the two of them Y'Roden and Ghet had kept him just barely within his consciousness. There to do what came naturally, but restrained enough to let the half-elf experience it too.
This one screamed like an angel, her body was a musical instrument on which he had played. The breaking of bones was a clear remembrance.... and sounds... Gods.... it made him shake with desire. How the smell of her blood had thrilled him, and the way she had desperately pushed herself into his hands, begged for it, returned as much agony as she had received.
The Demon's eyes burned, boring into Ghet's as he held his hand out, obeying her request. "I like it when it hurts," he informed her, "And so do you." A malicious grin curled his lips, but he lay back on the table as she asked. "I KNOW you."
Ghet flushed. She'd really preferred it when he didn't talk. To hear that voice, saying those things, it was more than she could cope with on an even keel. Her hands shook a little as she took the sample and programmed the tricorder accordingly. Her voice shook too, her defiance sounding somewhat unconvincing. "You don't know me. You know what I taste like, but it's not the same thing." There was more than that to it, of course. He knew the secret she kept, the key to making her blood sing beyond her control, and that was a hell of a tool to be in a hand with no conscience, no higher feeling.
And to cap it all off, his body was... responding. She fixed her eyes on the chest wounds and set to healing them, passing the Feinberger over the gashes, seeing the bleeding stop, the flesh beginning to knit together again. Her heart was aching for what Ro had obviously gone through to bring him to this point, and peripherally she was aware that her own body couldn't help but respond on some level, underneath her careful professionalism. She didn't fear for his life any more, so she was at a loss as to why her legs were shaking so badly.
And now she had to do the lower wounds. This was going to take some effort. There had to be some way of doing this with her eyes closed...
His hand shot out, wrapping around Ghet's tiny wrist with a grip of iron. A smile twisted his lips as he yanked the redhead forward, her slight weight landing on his chest. A low growl rumbled out of Demon as the wounds on his back were driven into the cold table, his eyes flashing with the pleasure of it. "Oh no.... I DO know you. I know things about Ghetsuhm Riker Alcarin she would keep even from her husband." His free hand lifted, caressed her cheek, leaving a bloody trail on her soft skin.
"I know all the things you blame yourself for, but would never change. I know you crave pain; you need it as badly as the air you breathe. I even know you like your coffee with one and a half sugars.... " His fingers tangled into Ghet's thick red hair, yanking her mouth up to his, kissing her hard, then biting into her lip hard enough to draw blood. A taste he knew well.... it burned on his tongue, sweet.... heady.... unforgettable.
Things always went all to heck so fast. He lifted her off her feet and on to him with hardly any effort, her tools dropping from her hands in shock. She hadn't been expecting that, and she should have been. For some reason, she'd thought that if Ro didn't want her on that level any more, then neither would the demon. She did wish she was wearing something a little more substantial than a now blood-drenched Riker's dress. The dress she wore was designed to provoke, and right now she'd rather be wearing plate mail, or a vac suit. Something safe.
The words he spoke hurt her, shamed her. She didn't keep secrets from her husband, she couldn't. But there were things they didn't talk about. And gods, she might be able to differentiate between this creature and Y’Roden, but Galain wasn't going to, not if he hurt her. There was a tiny edge of panic as she closed off her end of their bond, but only a little. She'd got through to Ro in this state before. She was just a little afraid of what might happen before she managed it this time. It wouldn't be too bad, but she still didn't want to have to explain it to Galain.
Then he forced his kiss on her, and the panic stepped up a gear. She wasn't strong enough to fight him off, not nearly, even without his weight on top of her. She fought against him anyway, trying to pull her head out of his grasp. The pain, the blood in her mouth... two parts of her essential personality warred. She was terrified of being raped again. She loved the pain. Gods, she loved the pain, and he knew it. He would use it against her with a cruelty Ro would never have dreamed of.
She got her mouth away, though her hair screamed with the pain of it, and made herself look in his eyes. "Ro, please. Please don't do this. I know you're in there. Let me finish healing you, and we'll just let this go. No-one has to know."
But through it all, her heart raced, her senses filled with the scent. Y’Roden, and blood. It was a hell of a mix, and she didn't know how long she could hold out.
Cold laughter met her panic, nothing but the cold unfeeling wall of the Demon meeting the terrified gaze of those denim blue eyes. "Y'Roden isn't here," he said calmly, "He can't hear you." He twisted, a juxtaposition, slamming Ghet onto the table, her body sliding in the lake of blood he left behind. The Demon had felt her close off the bond, even if it was just a little... it was a victory. A bright emerald light shone from behind his blood red eyes. Not Ro.... he was to far gone, it was the conduit in operation, opening, reflecting her thoughts and feelings back, blocking the bond to Galain completely.
"You're right... no one has to know." His hands were heavy on her waist, a gradual pressure that bent her ribs, filled with promise.
Suddenly he drew back, standing, yanking the redhead to her feet. He let go of her, leaving her leaning heavily the bed. "Take it off," he ordered, gesturing to the dress. He didn't touch her... he didn't have too.
NO! Somewhere, deep in the recesses of the Demon's mind, he was trapped. STOP! GODS! PLEASE STOP! His screams went unheeded, his struggles to regain control easily waved aside by the Demon. NO! NOT HER! NEVER HER! YOU PROMISED! This couldn't be happening... utterly terrified Ro was sure the Demon meant to kill Ghet. Why had he come here? He should have just died where he was.... But no... Silverthorn.... Oh gods....
That was when Ghet really started to be afraid. Ro wasn't there, not close enough to reach. It was just her and this maniac, and that changed everything. Whatever she did now, it was to increase her chances of survival. That was all that mattered. Anything she had to do to keep herself alive and sane, she would do, even if that meant locking a part of herself away and worse, letting another part of herself out.
If she pleased him, appeased him, surely he was less likely to kill her. But still, she was afraid. She knew it, he knew it, he liked it.
Nobody has to know. That hadn't been what she'd meant, but that was how it had to be. She'd die of shame if anyone knew about this. She reached to the side of her dress and undid the ties there, losing the last feeble protection she'd had as the wet fabric hit the floor. She hugged her arms across her breasts, an odd posture for a woman who'd never been ashamed of her body. His eyes on her made her feel sick. "Please. What do you want from me?"
Heck, on the other hand, maybe she didn't want to know.
"You know what I want," the answer slid easily from his tongue, crimson eyes burning as they raked over Ghet's form. "I've been locked away to long... and you, you are the perfect playmate." He grabbed her hard with hands that had so often touched her gently... lovingly. He kissed her viciously with a mouth that had placed feathery kisses on her flesh... that had worshipped her and spoken words of undying love.
Lifting the redhead from her feet he set her on the table, forcing her legs apart, moving to stand between them as he fisted his hand in Ghet's hair, yanking her head back. His mouth came down hard on hers, bruising... unmerciful. Hard fingers gripped her waist, squeezing hard, snapping a rib.
Godsdammit NO! In full panic mode Y'Roden grasped for the only thing he could. The conduit. Twisting, desperate, he turned it onto himself. I'd rather die.... and you're coming with me.
The Demon staggered for a moment, a snarl of rage ripping from his chest, wavering. Emerald leaked through the crimson, gazed at Ghet for a pleading moment before the beast regained control, slamming Y'Roden back. The struggle for the conduit was brief, leaving Ro helpless once more.
"He loves you," laughter rang in Ghetsuhm's ears, "He does you know, he'd die before he let me hurt you. Which makes this all the more entertaining. Now... please me... and I may let you live."
The moment he touched her again, Ghet began to cry, silent, hopeless tears. She'd thought about Y’Roden over the years, thought about being with him like this, but with him. Without his love, their love for each other, it was simply brutal, animal. He was hurting her so much, and he'd only just begun. She gasped in pain and shame when her rib broke, but the reaction was too deep, instinctual, too powerful from its long denial, and her legs opened more easily than they should.
He pulled back, away, and she had a surge of wild hope. He was there after all; Y’Roden, and he wouldn't let this happen to her. She saw him; breaking through, saw his pain. She would have called his name, but when she breathed in, the broken rib pressed against a lung, and the pain took her voice. And then it was over. The demon was back in control and it was going to extract the full price from her.
"He loves you. He does you know, he'd die before he let me hurt you." She sobbed. It had hurt enough the time Y’Roden had told her he still loved her. The same voice, such very different words. "Let's just be honest shall we? I love you, I do, but it isn't appropriate for me to love you anymore, so that is the last time you will hear me say it." She hadn't been able to live with that, so she'd denied it. To hear this beast toy with Y’Roden’s secrets like that... She growled, and fought one more time, hard, to be free. And then she stopped.
If she fought, if she resisted, one of two things would happen. Y’Roden would die, or she would. Neither alternative was acceptable. There was a time she would have said that there were worse things than death, and this would have been firmly in that category, but that was before Galain. Now, she'd suffer anything to stay alive. If she pleased him, he might let her live. And who knew, the release of the violence might give Ro a better chance of getting back in control. She had to do it, she had no choice. She had to become complicit in her own rape.
She shut her eyes hard for a moment, choking back a sob, and stopped the tears. And she took the sane part of her mind, and shoved it hard away in a corner. She was capable of liking this, and that was the only thing that would stop her going mad. The shame and betrayal, the grief and humiliation, that would have to wait until later. But gods, this was so much worse than lying back and just letting him rape her. Now he violated her will, her spirit.
She opened her eyes and sat forward, rubbing her breasts against his chest, as her hand slid down between his legs to caress him. Her nails dug into the sensitive flesh and dragged, even as her teeth closed on his nipple.
And inside, her soul began to scream.
He would never forgive himself for this. If Ro could have, he would have wept. His own screams were deafening, but not nearly as painful as Ghet's tears. He had seen.... for that brief moment, the agony in her eyes. Though deeply buried he could still feel his body's pain, and the pleasure... and to his eternal shame, some small part of him enjoyed it.
No... no... no... no. The mantra repeated itself over and over, he never stopped struggling, hoping, praying that the Demon would give him an opening... that he would be strong enough to regain control.
Well pleased the Demon growled out its delight, leaned into the pain Ghet offered him. This body had belonged to him alone for eight hundred years, many of the scars were his.... marks of dark pleasure, rewards from Samara. Ignoring the half-elf within he made his demands of the redhead, trading agony and pleasure in kind, slowly breaking her, bending her body to his will.
He'd not take her yet ... he simply drove her mad. Eventually there would come a point when Ghet would snap, and beg for her own damnation. In the meantime, fingers dug into tender flesh, breaking, scratching, bleeding. Teeth dragged over her, penetrating the epidermis, tasting salty skin and coppery blood. It was all sweet music, a tune he played on her body, a cadence of breaking bones and well orchestrated screams. She was a wonder.... a true treasure.
Ghet let herself scream in pain now. She knew he liked the screams, and there was nothing she could really do to stop it, anyway. There was too much pain; she was lost in a madness of snapping bone and torn, aching flesh. After a while, she realised he was in no hurry to bring it to an end. If he didn't take her... it already felt like it had gone on forever.
The demon elf had iron control. And unless she made him lose that control, this would never stop. He could just go on torturing her. She'd already lost all track of how long she'd been in here. She took a deep, shuddering breath, regardless of how much pain that sent through her shattered chest. And then she did it. She pushed her body up into his hands, willing him to hurt her more. And she filled his ears with the things he wanted to hear, her begging, pleading for him to utterly possess her.
She had to make it end, while she still had the shreds of her sanity.
The real torture began in earnest then. The Demon dragged Ghet to the floor, using the Aethyr to slowly mend her broken bones and tattered flesh, only to break and rend her open again. He forced himself between her thighs, driving into her mercilessly. Her screams brought gasps of pleasure from his lips... he possessed her completely.
Part of Y'Roden died. It was all he could do not to just give up, to let his consciousness drift into nothing... like a wisp of smoke on the wind. It would have been a kind mercy to a soul that had lived in darkness most of its life, that had known only horrors when there should have been magic and light. Ro was who he was though, and he wouldn't let go, not out of any sense of self-preservation. No... if he let go, the Demon would win. It would kill Ghet, and then systematically hunt down anyone else that had ever meant anything to the Prince of Corin.
The Demon was losing its hold, the pleasure it was taking in Ghet's body breaking down its control. A spark of emerald leaked through the crimson ... too late... too late.
Ghet was gone. Her mind had retreated, a primal infant shattered thing curled in upon itself, whimpering. What was left was just a body, a mindless animal. She shut her eyes tight so she didn't have to look at what was taking her. There was a time in her life when she hadn't cared who or what drove the flesh that possessed her, as long as there was pleasure. And there was; sick, twisted, insane pleasure; delight in the terrible force tearing her apart.
She reached behind him and forced her fingers into one of the wounds on his back, ripping it open. Her body was beginning to peak, a long wave of mindless pleasure overwhelming her. She growled and pulled him harder against her. She wanted it over, yes, but she also wanted... this.
The pain was exquisite, and the Demon howled in delight. It also slipped and Ro pushed forward, hard, forcing his way to the surface. His eyes were a riot of emerald and crimson and he struggled for both control, and to stop what was happening. "Ghet! Ghettie stop! Gods please!" He almost had it for a moment, almost managed to get a grip... but the pain eased, and the Demon tried to slam him back down again. The body that housed them both shuddered, on the edge of release and his voice caught between the demon's snarl of pleasure and a sob.
In a way, it was the worst thing that could have happened. Ro's voice took away her defences, and then she was wholly there, in the pain and the absolute horror. "Ro! Gods, no..." It was ridiculous, but she didn't want him to see her like this, to know what he was doing to her. She didn't know whether it was better or worse when he disappeared again, but at least she had some hope now. If it could just be over... She bit him. "Do it, you bastard. Just finish it."
The Demon lost it, shoving deeper into her body, Ghet's pelvic bone shattering under the sheer brutality of it. Ro was still right there, but he could not have been more helpless. Gods... .he was hurting her ... and he was betraying his wife. The half-elf forced himself through, the scream his this time as he desperately tried to stop his body, but it was too late. His seed mixed with her blood, flooding into her body unchecked as he spasmed helplessly. Enraged he turned inwards, forcefully grabbing the conduit and ensnaring the hysterically laughing demon, forcing it back into the depths of his soul. Y'Roden's head dropped onto Ghet's shoulder, tears falling hot on her skin as he wept. "I'm sorry... oh gods Ghettie..."
And then he felt it, the spark within her body... the creation of life. "NO... no... no.. Gods no..."
It wasn't a rescue. It was dropping from one hell into another. Now she lay, spent and broken, naked and bloody, under Y’Roden. They'd done so well in salvaging a friendship from the wreckage of their old love, and now... gods, he was still inside her. Shame swept through her, and she too began to weep. But she could feel how badly he hurt. "Ro. I know, I know... It wasn't your fault." At least he had an excuse. He hadn't been there through most of it. She'd just been Ghet. There was no division in her soul to excuse her betrayal, of Galain, of Silverthorn, but most of all, of Y’Roden.
She could feel hysteria rising inside her. She couldn't bear his touch, and yet it was the only comfort she had. She couldn't hide any longer. She reached out and touched her husband's soul. She had meant merely to reassure herself, but she could not keep it back. Her pain and her misery flooded through. She had no idea there was more to come. "Y’Roden, please, can you get off me?"
Y'Roden's body tensed as he came to his senses somewhat, realizing he was still connected to her. His face was red as he slowly withdrew from her, "I'm sorry," he whispered. It was then that he got a full view of her body, his face going pale as he saw what the demon had done. Gods... he couldn't leave her like that. Despite the fact that he was about to drop from loss of blood and stabbing pain, Ro lay hesitant, healing hands on her. The rips and tears rent there way through his flesh, the pop of bone pushing at him from inside. He barely felt it, and refused to meet her gaze, terrified that she would read what he knew. Ghetsuhm had never wanted children, and certainly not one of his. He had just damned her to another hell.
The half-elf's mind began to shut down, a slow progression that would surely lead to madness. "You should have left me in my casket," he said hoarsely, "You were all better off."
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