Page 45 of Demonic Cage
“You can’t be a very good king if your subjects never listen to you.”
Darya laughs softly. His gaze changes, becoming hungry and wild as he looks me up and down. I pull my arms tighter around myself.
“I didn't go further this time,” he declares so casually that I blush. “But once those beautiful, white legs of yours finally spread for me, I want to hear those sweet moans you had such a hard time holding back today.”
Before I can react, he closes the door.
I lean my head on my arm. My face is on fire with shame.
I don’t know how long I sit here, but a coldness under my skin shakes my body. I shiver.
I won’t… I won’t let Darya do this to me.
I have to defend myself. I have to learn to protect myself.
I stand up and head to the bathtub. Tomorrow, I’ll go to Kripot, and I’ll go every day until I become strong enough to defend myself against all those damn demons. I’ll fight until I can kick Darya’s ass so hard he can never do something to me that I don’t want.
Although, thinking about Darya’s gentle kiss on my belly, I have no idea what I want anymore. And whether I’ll even want to fight against him.
The next day, fully geared for battle in a white jumpsuit and sandals, I await Lizander’s arrival, but he doesn’t come. I curse to myself. Of course, just when I decide to go to practice, no one comes for me.
I cross my arms, drumming my fingers on my elbow. The bars around the bed held me captive all night. I can’t help but see the parallel between them and the drugs. They did the same to me – they became the bars between me and the monsters.
They held me prisoner.
Darya is right. If I want to escape from this cage, I need to be strong.
Blushing at the thought of Darya, I remember how I pressed my head into the ground, stifling a moan when he kissed my stomach. No. Enough of Darya.
I open the book I found a few days ago. I also promised myself last night that I would absorb all the information I could. I revel in the small joy of reading, as I’m beginning to understand the text. Apparently, the drugs blocked this ability of mine. I try to think of the pills with hatred, but the longing is still strong. I know the language, but it seems as if it was written thousands of years ago. The letters are distorted – non-European – and yet I can connect them. Above the drawing of a woman, punctuation marks form a small word:Pandora. I run my index finger over the engraved writing, then stareat the woman’s portrait. She’s so attractive that it’s almost overwhelming. She seems fragile, someone to protect, but in her hands she holds a small piece of the world – a little black jewelry box.
On the next page, creatures’ massive wings protrude from the rough paper. They resemble Darya’s servants, but their heads are more elongated – bony – and their faces are indistinguishable.
“I see you like reading,” a familiar deep voice says from the doorway. My heartbeat accelerates suddenly, my muscles tense. As yesterday taught me, I have to be alert all the time.”
However, upon seeing the orange-haired man, I drop my shoulders. The demon rests against the mud wall, arms crossed. I heard no noise when he entered. His tight, dark clothes cling to him, revealing well-defined muscles. A wheat-colored, oval pattern breaks the black below the neckline and is repeated on his thighs – narcissus petals. There’s no movement in the room; his fern-green cape doesn’t flutter. Lizander.
“I don’t understand everything,” I reply.
He looks at me thoughtfully with his hazel-brown eyes, then gently pushes himself off the wall and approaches me. His movement is so calm that I’m not afraid to let him sit next to me on the bed. Pulling my knees under my thighs, I point to the woman’s picture. “Pandora.” Lizander nods.
“I can read that,” I say, “but what about the rest?”
Lizander sighs slowly. I’ve never seen a man so sad.
“You don’t know her story?”
I do, but I want him to tell it.
“Pandora was a beautiful woman. No one could harm her because killing such beauty is the greatest sin. But, like every human, she had her own faults. She was too curious. They say Théos gave her a box almost as beautiful as she was, but forbade her from opening it.” Lizander’s pale eyes scan the lines; only thewrinkles on his forehead betray that he sometimes struggles to interpret the language. “Of course, she opened it,” he continues, “and like every woman, brought doom upon men.”
He looks at me lazily, expecting a reaction, but I just stare at him, waiting.
“That was a joke,” he says.
“Oh,” I hum. “Warn me next time. I don’t understand underworld humor.”
Lizander smiles softly, but only for a moment. He’s so different from Nárs. His face is beautiful, like a finely sculpted statue. I would like to touch the delicate dimples. “Pandora opened the box and Hell was unleashed on humanity – famine ravaged, sickness swept across the earth. And then we were born – demons.”
