Title: Demons Don't Feel, but Humans do
By: Metis
E-mail Metisseraph@aol.com
Comments: Okay…hope ya guys like!
*Ahem* pretty long…and not as limey as I would've wanted it to be, but all in due time, my friends--
*Chapter 6—Partner's Don't…*
It had taken quite a while, but Dante had, thankfully, managed to convince Trish that he hadn't brainwashed her into stripping before his eyes. He did, however, keep the story of her possession to himself. He didn't think Trish would appreciate it, or that she would be satisfied with herself knowing that she had been used without her knowledge. Regardless, Dante had been keeping a rather close watch on his partner ever since the incident which, to date, had been a little over a month ago.
He had suggested, much to Trish's chagrin and misinterpretation, that the two be stationed in a mutual living space in order to prevent future attacks. It was nothing out of the ordinary—the two boarding together—it was one of the advantages, or drawbacks as they sometimes believed, of being "business partners."
However, with Dante's proposition, the living arrangements held a sort of permanence to and about them, that both were more than uneasy about. Granted, the silver-haired youth was much less expressionless than Trish when it came to voicing discomforts, but that certainly did not mean he wasn't having his share of doubts about 'living' with Trish. All sorts of things came along with sharing a house—or what Dante preferred to call a shell. In Dante's eyes, a house was something useless and unnecessary and its only purpose was to protect or 'house' the weaker human form. In his own words, he would, "sooner live in a shell than rely on a worthless piece of brick…"
To make the arrangements even worse, they hadn't received a single customer during the entire month that they'd been sheltered together.
Trish, being the more perceptive one of the two, was bustling with hidden anxiety. She knew, despite the little Dante had bothered to say, that something more had occurred the night she'd awakened wearing nothing more than a skimpy towel. She had recurring dreams about the episode often to know it held more meaning than a dream; yet every morning, she woke with no recollection of its contents. All she was left with was a lingering feeling of despair. She always awoke with an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach; always with a bitter aftertaste. That particular night, she had awakened because of the dream. It had startled her awake and, being troubled enough by it, she had forced herself to sit upright and try to recall what it had been about. But her thoughts were muddled, and whenever she tried to bring up a mental picture, Trish drew a blank.
As with all the other times she had awakened as a result of the disturbing dream, all her mind remembered was a bright, reddish light that had at first burned, and later soothed her body. She had felt it concentrating on her chest, its bubbling, tingling texture exciting her despite the fact that her body seemed to recoil at the sensation. "What is this…?"
( * * *)
"They say it's a ghost spirit," Trish told Dante, lips tightening into a thin, amused line. Dante, in turn, raised a disappointed eyebrow. That was all? After having battled countless demons powerful enough to dethrone Zeus himself, they were resorting to taking cases regarding specters?!
"Tell them," Dante began irately, "that they can take their 'ghost spirit' and shove it right up their tight asses."
Trish, disgusted enough with Dante's recent silence to be pleased at his misfortune, raised curious eyebrows. A cranky Dante? That would certainly be a sight…
"Take you pick then, Dante…because it's either that or fairies."
Fairies?! Dante, momentarily outraged and not particularly sure whether Trish was joking, blinked silver eyes blankly. When had 'fairies' ever been something to fear? As far as he remembered all he'd ever had to do had been breathe and every creature around him that might've been a threat dropped dead. Furthermore…did fairies even exist? He wasn't quite sure what to think anymore—he was a demon, which meant angels existed…but fairies?? Someone had to be playing a trick on him…
"Send them all to hell—"
"What curse does that involve, then, because I don't—"
A glare was all Dante needed to shoot in Trish's direction before she got the message; he was most certainly not in the mood to be played with. Shrugging, the tall blonde purposely strode over past Dante and locked herself into her quarters. Maybe a nap would calm her down…
Kill him…
Trish shifted in her sleep, a deep frown wrinkling her forehead.
Destroy him…
Somehow, the sheets managed to tangle about Trish's lithe form, concentrating themselves around her neck.
Kill him…before he kills you.
Kicking at the air, the blonde took in a sudden ragged breath as two hands tightened around her throat.
Dante's going to kill you…unless
Now swinging her arms wildly and desperately, Trish fixated them upon the nonexistent fingers pushing steadily against her neck, closing and obstructing her breathing passages.
Kill him first…
The fingers tightened…tightened…tightened…
Trish could no longer breathe; her eyes widened against her will as her heart slowly ceased to beat…no pulse—no heat—no life…
Kill him first…
Taking in a sudden gasp, Trish sat bolt upright, hands flying instinctively towards her neck, eager to rub at and protect what had been targeted and attacked moments earlier. Her eyes wide and bewildered, she looked about the dark room, her fingertips flying underneath her pillow and tightening around a gun's handle.
What had that been? It had felt so real…as if there had been actual fingertips—actual hands gripping at her throat. And what had the voice said? To kill him? To kill who? And who was going to kill her if she didn't, certainly not Dante…
Trish's brow furrowed in puzzlement. She would've dismissed the scenario entirely as a nightmare if she hadn't known the importance dreams had played in her situation so far; she would have disregarded it altogether if it hadn't been for the dreams she'd been having lately. Apart from that…it had been too clear—to realistic to be nothing but a dream. Even more, the fact that she actually remembered what had happened was something out of the ordinary as well…
Suddenly, all the lamps in the room were flicked on, and Trish found herself bathed in absolute light. In an instant, her gun was pointed squarely at her target, the safety lock off and ready for fire. After squinting for a few seconds, however, she leisurely let the gun fall against her thigh, an expression of relief in her gray eyes.
"What is it, Dante?" she questioned tiredly, not particular to waking up and finding a demon in her bedroom, watching her for who knew how long.
Ignoring her tone, Dante studied the young woman suspiciously. She'd been screaming in her sleep, or so he'd figured after he'd run into her room, thankful the shouts had been brought on by a nightmare as opposed to a marionette. However, once he'd calmed down enough to listen to what she had been saying, he'd been more than surprised. Dante had watched on, unfazed, as he saw Trish struggle with the air, bringing up hands to fight and defend against nothing—he'd seen how she'd kicked against the sheets, how she'd struggled to breathe—how she'd remained still, as if dead…but all along, Dante had known she was and would be fine—because he could see his power still inside her. He had been experienced enough to know that after the earlier possession of her body, the demons searching her out wouldn't disappear. So, he'd made sure to keep a small flame of his power ignited within her to ward off possible attacks or possessions. Thankfully, it had been enough to keep whatever had attacked her just now at bay.
"What did it say?" was all he bothered to answer, his tone cold and foreboding.
Trish only shrugged, slightly unnerved at Dante's accuracy when it came to guessing what had happened.
"Something along the lines of killing me?"
It was a good guess…
Head snapping up, Trish narrowed steely eyes up at the taller demon. Then, without warning, she gripped her metal gun firmly in both hands and aimed in steadily at Dante.
"You know that won't work, Trish."
"So what if it doesn't?" Trish slowly and cautiously rose from her bed, her gun trained on Dante the whole time. As her long slender legs slid out from beneath her, a smooth, white shirt trailed down past her knees, covering her body quite unsuccessfully.
Almost of their own will, Dante's eyes began trailing hungrily down her voluptuous body, his breath quickening despite his efforts to remain unperturbed. Aware of his gaze, Trish whisked around quickly, grabbing onto her sheets and winding them thickly about her. "Don't look at me like that, Dante."
"Why not?" The question, which he had never meant to escape his thoughts, was voiced before he had a chance to realize exactly what it he had said.
"What happened that night?"
Dante was taken off guard by the question. He hadn't thought she'd be able to remember what had taken place—much less that she'd been aware of it all from the beginning. Dante remained silent, not bothering to say anything, as his only response would be one she wouldn't like to hear. "Do you remember anything at all about it?"
Narrowing her eyes, Trish craned her neck tentatively. She hadn't expected such a direct answer from him.
"No…" Trish lowered the gun but took a step forward toward Dante.
"You don't remember, doing this?" In the split second the words had escaped the half-demon's lips, he had closed the distance between them and pushed Trish roughly against a neighboring wall, his hand restraining her movements by capturing both her wrists within it and settling them inches above her head. The woman's eyes widened desperately as the contact sent electrifying shivers throughout her body, and felt a thick blush make its way toward her cheeks.
"And this…?"
His lips, hungry and aching, ravaged her mouth, reminding her of that night…except—except that she had been the one kissing him—except that she had been the one pinning him down…
Bewildered at the memory that abruptly attacked her senses, Trish pulled away quickly from the kiss, her eyes wide at the realization. Fingertips tightening against the fabric of Dante's shirt, the young girl pushed roughly against his chest. No…She would never—not with Dante…They were just, just partners—
"And you don't remember…holding me? Touching me?" As he spoke, the silver-haired man's hands roamed her body tentatively. He was careful not to trespass boundaries—Dante would never dream of caressing her intimately without consent. He might be a demon, a mercenary, and a hormonal male, but he had a certain code of honor, which, were he ever to betray, would return to hunt him down.
Oblivious to his internal ranting, Trish let blue eyes flutter lazily shut. She wanted to recall what Dante was talking about with such candidness and confidence; wanted desperately to remember all details—but, despite her efforts, her mind drew a blank. Granted, she remembered having been with him, she saw herself sprawled over him in flashes, but she had little idea of how far they might have gotten…of what had been said.
Feeling smooth lips alight on her neck, and recognizing the danger they posed not only to her resolve and feminism, but to her physical well being as well, Trish cleared her throat loudly. She hoped that would jolt Dante from his ministrations. It didn't. She did, however, know that his kissing her on the neck, could, and very well might, lead to dangerous consequences. 'Demons thirst for blood,' she remembered hearing from the half-demon himself, 'and sometimes I feel like I need it…so—if, if I ever do anything—just stop me.'
As what had started as a soft butterfly kiss against her neck became heavy suckling, Dante's voice rang anew in her head. 'I never know what I can end up doing. Just—stop me…'
"Dante—stop."
Struggling against his weight, and realizing her remark had produced no effect on the gray-eyed halfling, Trish balled her fists against his chest and turned her neck away, repeating the request in a slightly more desperate tone. Luckily, he heeded the second demand. She felt him stiffen against her, almost as if he were battling within himself, before releasing a lengthy breath. Then, obediently albeit reluctantly, Dante removed his arms from about Trish's waist and lifted his weight off hers.
Momentarily, as she gathered herself, Trish looked into Dante's eyes a bit uncertainly. They were darkened, she noted, darkened with desire and passion and…and thirst. Although it had been almost indecipherable at first, Trish now detected a vague reddish haze outlining the very edges of his silvery iris. '…and I wake up and see what I've done; after the drinking…after the killing is gone—I wake up and I don't quite remember. So I drift, drift until I've regained some sort of recognition of what I am and how I've gotten there.'
Vaguely, Trish realized that the outburst Dante had just had was very similar to the ones she had entertained when she had been possessed by that demon. So, was that how it felt for Dante? Not being able to control his emotions? Not knowing where or at what consequence he would end up…? '…but don't worry. I can usually control it. It's never been a problem when I want to curb it; when I know I can't just kill a partner.' That last remark had been muttered with a slight smile.
Suddenly and very unwillingly, Trish found herself thrust into a new facet of Dante she wasn't sure she wanted to explore. She had always been, for the larger part, satisfied in aiding Dante as she could, not particularly minding much about his habits, or his past, and most certainly not his heritage. She had taken his emotions for granted, guessing his cold persona and ancestry were just the way he was—and were the only characteristics he possessed. Of course, she had been wrong, but she hadn't realized it.
"I kissed you?" Trish asked breathlessly, wanting to break the heavy silence that had sunk in. A slight nod. An indifferent shrug. Why should she care that she had kissed Dante? It had been in a state of stupor—she had been unable to control her body, so why should she feel embarrassed? Why was she blushing? Dante knew and understood it hadn't been her that night, so why had he kissed her now?
"Not you, exactly."
"And…what else…did I do?"
Dante raised an amused eyebrow at the question. What else had she done? "What do you mean?"
"Did I…disrespect you? Do things partners don't do?"
An amused smirk crossed the man's lips, "You didn't do anything I wouldn't've wanted."
* To Be Continued *
A tad to long, I think, but I hoped you guys liked. I'm finally back on track with the story and I have a pretty good idea of where its going.