Defying the Dragon

Deals made

Deals made

Misty was facing Rikat inside the innermost circle while the 13 wraiths were silently watching.

"I wasn't sure it would work. I didn't think you were a demon..." Misty began, trying to understand why the ritual summoned Rikat when she wanted to bring forth a powerful demon. Any powerful demon. Rikat was powerful but he wasn't one of the fallen. Misty wasn't sure if he was even human, at least, not in the sense that the shapeshifters were human. And the demons were former humans that lost their souls to the fallen angels.

"That was an erroneous consideration on your part. Just like your poor attempt at trying to replace me," Rikat smirked. He closed the distance between them, stopping when he was just a couple of inches away. Misty didn't move, straightening her back and raising her chin in a show of defiance. Rikat looked at her, noting every difference, every little detail that changed since he last saw her. Her hair was cut in a layered long bob with the right side shaved. The color of her hair was a dark red with black tips like her hair was touched by tar. From the little he knew from that time, her haircut was what contemporary people considered elegant and modern with a touch of rebellion. Rikat found himself fascinated by the earrings that were long feathers. The right one was more exposed than the left; touching her collarbone and inviting him to caress her skin. Her clothes were revealing in a way that intrigued. The dresses that the women wore in his time were too restrictive, becoming elaborated cages. The clothes showed every delicious curve, making him want to undress her and taste the skin they concealed. There were things Rikat hated about her time, but there were other things like the clothes and the haircuts that he really liked. Rikat raised his head, meeting hazel-green eyes – the eyes of a sorceress – watching him silently.

"Like what you see?" Misty asked impassible, while she felt the passing of time, this talking around the subject they needed to discuss, but Misty knew Rikat and she knew that if she forced him to do something he didn't want, then the deal was off. Rikat would disappear back to his castle, and she would be left trying to defeat 13 Inferiors and a sadistic warlock. Waiting was the key, but it was abrading her patience.

"Always. I don't look at what I do not enjoy," Rikat affirmed caressing her cheek.

Misty closed her eyes, enjoying the hot touch. His skin was always hotter than a normal human. It was purely another remainder that the dragon was constantly just under the thin human skin. She let herself relish the caress, feeling how their magic intertwined. Rikat touched her cheek then descended on her throat, stroking her collarbone, stopping at the little gap between the collarbones. Her pulse spiked when she felt his sharp index nail scratching lightly. Misty inhaled sharply, putting her hand on his shoulder, trying to stay still. She was a little dizzy, feeling all of a sudden drained. Misty wanted to put her head on his shoulder and rest a while. A reaction which was wrong.

She snapped out of it, trying to find the way in which he was manipulating her.

Somehow, her thoughts, her reactions were slower and Misty felt like she was moving in slow motion.

He was a being of such incredible splendor that simply seeing him move made her heart squeeze. It didn't matter that she knew it was a mirage, that he was as deadly as the magic swirling around them. No one, not even she, could deny that Rikat was a man made to be admired. To be worshipped.

That utterly wrong thought was what gave him away. The sulfur he emanated was the way he was attempting to sway her. She pushed his shoulder, taking a step back, throwing him a glance full of fury. She felt the distance between them like a painful twist of a knife in her heart. Misty ignored it, hiding under a mask of indifference. Fury wouldn't help her reach an accord.