Chapter Text
Across the room, Rafayel is surrounded by elegantly dressed people in evening wear all clamoring for his attention. He’s smiling and acting polite. You’re exhausted and dead on your feet but trying to remain alert. You see his eyes flick towards you every so often and a crease of concern mars his otherwise perfect brow.
“Excuse me,” Rafayel murmurs as he weaves unerringly towards you and away from his simpering admirers, ignoring their calls for just one more minute of his time.
“Look, I know this was last minute, but I really thought I had told you,” he says reflexively at the surly look you greet him with.
You tip your head in acknowledgment, but barely.
“Yeah, you did. It’s my fault it slipped my mind.”
Anyone is bound to forget a thing or two after spending all of the last two days clearing out a nest of high-level wanderers.
He tilts his head, studying you. It makes you a little uncomfortable. You didn’t have time to shower or change out of your uniform so you’re standing around like a grubby little commoner in a ballroom full of wealthy elites dressed to the nines. You really wish you had at least changed into one of the gowns Rafayel sent you two weeks ago that had been forgotten in the back of your closet and are still hanging there. You just read the “Why arent you here yettt???” text and steered your bike to the address on autopilot.
“You don’t need to ignore me all night though. You didn’t even come say hi,” he pouts at you, trying to lighten the mood.
“I’m not ignoring you,” you grumble as you continue scanning the room. “I’m working. Being your bodyguard. Making sure you’re safe.”
“Yeahhh, but it still feels like you’re mad at me.”
Nothing seems amiss, aside from a few (most) of the guests staring at your bedraggled appearance with varying degrees of bemusement and disapproval.
The children’s hospital charity gala proceeds exactly as one would expect.
“I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at me. I completely forgot. I haven’t really slept in two days… sorry,” you say sheepishly.
Being tired, hungry, and painfully aware of how out of place you look is not helping.
Not to mention all of the as yet unprocessed revelations from the week before that you and Rafayel still need to talk about.
You helped him get the Tome of the Sea God— which, what was that? Possession?
And you had some long forgotten childhood memory flashbacks that somehow included him that you haven’t even begun to parse through. And there’s some kind of glowy red bond between you too. And feelings?
Discussions need to be had.
“Yeahhhh, you know what? I think we’ve schmoozed enough for the night. Let’s get you home, cleaned, fed, and to bed. Next time just tell me you can’t make it, yeah? But don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”
Rafayel tries to steer you towards the exit but you feel a sudden bout of contrariness.
“What? No, the auction hasn’t even started yet. You can’t leave before your main event.”
He starts to huff and whine at you, but out of the corner of your eye you see someone making their way over towards you and him like they’re on a mission. Then another and another.
“Wait— what?”
Rafayel pings to your concern and the two of you turn to face the approaching figures but they each hurl a glass vial in unison at the floor near your feet and billowy clouds of noxious-smelling purple smoke erupt and obscure your vision. The culprits scatter and get lost in the crowd.
You can’t help gagging at the sudden brutal onslaught to your senses- excruciatingly pungent and cloyingly sweet- but otherwise there doesn’t seem to be any adverse reactions of note. No burning, itching, or upset of any kind. At least not for you or what you can see of the rest of the room once the fog starts dissipating. Everyone seems to be fine, if confused.
Everyone except for Rafayel, who sways and sags into your arms, almost but not quite a dead weight. His hand goes to his nose to try and shield it from some of the scent but it’s a futile gesture.
His face has reddened. His eyes are glazed over and his breathing is now somewhat labored.
To your horror, you watch delicate blue scales bloom up his neck and under his eyes. They flare and glisten on his flushed skin- which is coated in a light sheen of perspiration. He struggles to keep from doubling over, your support the only thing holding him upright, or else he’d be a shivering heap on the floor at your feet.
Oh no. No, no, no, no, no.
“Cutieeeee,” he moans as his fingers tighten almost painfully on your forearms and he starts nosing at your neck. “This smell… it’s that stuff again…”
You feel a tentative lick on your pulse point and one of your hands goes up of its own accord to cradle his head, both shielding his face and locking him close, as a ripple of ill-advised arousal courses through you.
The smoke is nearly gone, but the pungent scent lingers. You see the other people mulling about in confusion and low-level panic. Many are rushing to vacate the building.
“I know- your scales. We need to get you out of here before anybody sees.”
You brush a finger against the ones dotting his cheekbones and he turns his face to nuzzle into your hand before taking a nip with blunted teeth, panting and moaning.
The service door that you’ve seen the caterers go in and out of is only a couple feet away. You loop his arm around your shoulders and start maneuvering him towards it. He rubs your neck with his face again while his free hand loosens his collar.
You open the door and are relieved to see the corridor is completely empty. Once through, Rafayel turns and pins you against it. His lips are on yours and his thigh is jammed up between your legs before you can draw a breath. A startled yelp slips out. You find yourself straddling his thigh- the tips of your toes just barely touching the floor. You’re mortified to feel yourself leaking. You hope your pants are thick.
“Raf—stop, we need to get you out of here,” you say between kisses. His fingers are working on your shirt and you feel a buckle snap. He’s going to tear it off you. You try to fight your growing arousal. Now is not the time.
“Yeah, definitely think it’s time to leave now,” he agrees as he nibbles just underneath your ear, not willing or able to stop his ministrations in the slightest.
“Stop,” you repeat. “We need to go and you are burning up,” you scold as you try to push him away. You manage to prevent his hand from pulling down your zipper but he’s otherwise a solid wall of muscle that does not budge.
“Yeah— I’m on fire. Getting really tired of getting roofied all the time.”
His hands settle on your hips and he kisses you more. Hot, wet, and desperate. You’re flushed and warming up now too. You halfheartedly try to stop him again. He moans your name and says, “If you really want me to stop, you’re going to need to reallllly mean it.”
Oh God. You don’t. You don’t want him to stop. But not here. You don’t know who attacked, but you know it was Rafayel that was targeted specifically. Your skin is crawling with the feeling of being watched and adrenaline is pumping through your body with the need to escape.
“Come on. We gotta get out of here before the guys that did this to you come back.”
You think you see his chest glow. He mutters “Yeahhh good point,” and lets you start guiding him down the long hallway. He still tries to maintain as much contact with you as he can, with his arm looped around your shoulders and his face nuzzling into your neck. He’s a warm line down the entire length of the left side of your body.
It looks like at least five hundred feet to an exit. You’re pretty sure that’s the kitchen up ahead. There are also some other branching hallways along the path.
When you get to the kitchen, you pause and turn your head to scan the room. You can see the staff lying around unconscious. Your stomach sinks. Rafayel’s grip tightens on your shoulders as he surveys the scene with you.
As if on cue, heels click in the corridor ahead. You hear more shuffling behind. You’re not sure where they appeared from but you know you’re surrounded.
A suited man stands before you and you stare at him grimly. He adjusts his cuffs. Rafayel blinks and unwraps himself from you to tower at his full height, but you know he’s struggling to regain composure. His face is red and he’s breathing shallowly.
“Mr. Rafayel,” the man greets, “it’s a pleasure.”
Rafayel doesn’t deign to respond.
You reply bluntly, “Who are you and what do you want?”
“We’re from Ever,” he answers as two wanderers materialize behind him.
You curse and draw your weapons. Rafayel pulls out his wicked dagger and whirls so you’re back to back. The suited man laughs while backing up and letting the monsters take point. One of the wanderers remains near the man protectively, but the other lumbers towards you.
You fire two shots while rushing forward to try and swipe its leg out from under it. The hallway is narrow- if you could just knock this one down…
Your kick connects but it’s like hitting steel. You’re not able to budge the thing, and shock reverberates up your leg, but you’re fast. You’re able to dodge back and maneuver out from under its wide swing. You fire off more shots.
Behind you Rafayel is up against three humans. On a normal day, this wouldn’t be a problem for him, but he’s drugged and slow, his body is still in full-on induced arousal.
He slashes, but you’re no longer covering his back. The second man circles behind him and grabs his left arm, throwing him off balance. The first man slips past his guard as well.
The third is hanging back at the ready.
Rafayel is flanked and tries to pivot away, summon his evol, and get his back against the wall, but he stumbles when the first man kicks out at him. His wet bangs hang in his eyes and the sweat makes them sting.
The second man captures Rafayel’s other arm and pins both behind his back. The first man confiscates his dagger.
Rafayel struggles feebly in his hold. He tries to thread a leg around and through his captor’s leg so as to trip him up, much as you had tried with the wanderer, but the third man steps forward and slides a needle into his neck.
You cry out when you see him crumple to the floor. Your distraction causes you to get backhanded into the wall. You drop one of your guns from the impact. The wanderer kicks it down the hall in the scuffle.
You’re dazed but manage to fire off a few more shots with your remaining gun. They hit but aren’t effective against the armored wanderer, which then slaps it out of your hand with punishing force. Your second gun clatters to the floor and is promptly pulverized under the creature’s foot. Its arm shoots straight out and grabs your neck, hoisting you off the ground and against the wall.
You struggle weakly with the hand squeezing you, but you can still see Rafayel, who is convulsing on the floor. The three humans have stepped back and observe dispassionately as he thrashes and screams in pain.
You watch in horror as he starts growing bigger. He kicks his feet against one end of the hall and tries to toe off his shoes. He manages to get one off before his legs fuse together and a massive blue tail erupts from his pants, utterly shredding them in the process.
The monster’s hand is crushing your windpipe, but you still cry out in alarm as you witness Rafayel’s startling transformation. What is happening? And dimly, he said he didn’t have a tail!
He grows and grows. It’s a massive tail! Much too big for this narrow space. It bends up the wall and curls back down and around at an uncomfortable looking angle. Dazedly, you think he looks to be about 15 feet long now.
When he finally stops changing, Rafayel heaves over and manages to brace himself on his hands. He’s clearly trying to get up, but it’s futile without legs to stand. His tail pushes against the wall, which starts cracking. Those are concrete blocks!
One of the humans kicks him brutally hard in the face and he crumples back to the floor unconscious.
Tears start leaking from your eyes and you’re not able to breathe with the monstrous hand around your throat- choking you.
You hear the man in the suit issue a command and the wanderer lets go. You drop to the floor and land in a heap. The wanderers shuffle off, dismissed.
You react instantly and crawl on your hands and knees over to Rafayel. You manage to lift his top half and cradle his unconscious form to your chest. He’s still hot and flushed, but his tail surrounding you is slimy and cold. Some of his scales scrape you.
“What have you done?” you glare at the man.
“Oh, nothing major,” he answers. “We just forced the Lemurian out of his shell.”
His smirk is nasty, but then he surveys the scene of you and Rafayel wedged together in the too small space. He sighs and rolls his eyes.
“I forgot how massive they are in their natural form though. Ugh. Well, let’s not dawdle. Time to get him out of here and loaded up.”
The three lackeys share a furtive look amongst themselves.
“Now, people. Drag him if you must,” he barks before turning on his heel and striding back down the corridor towards the exit.
Before you can even think about trying to untangle yourself from Rafayel, you’re clocked in the back of the head and slump over.
You don’t know how long you were out.
You awaken shackled to the wall of what looks like the inside of a semi-truck that had been fitted out in state-of-the-art medical equipment—sterile, white, and blinding. Your head aches and you think you have a concussion.
You see Rafayel lying on a gurney in front of you. You can’t tell if he’s breathing for a panic-stricken second. You try to keep yourself perfectly still, hold your breath, and force yourself to stare at him through the fog in your head. There! It’s almost imperceptible— but he’s breathing.
Then you notice the straps. They run tightly over his forehead, neck, shoulders, chest, arms, and down the length of the part of his tail that actually fits on the table. The rest of it spills off the end limply. It’s not as vibrant as you remember. He’s looking faded and sickly now.
His shirt has been stripped off. There are a few wires attached to him as well, and an IV inserted into a vein.
He has markings that swirl along his chest and down both his arms that, like his tail, you had never seen before, but you know that they are an undeniable part of him.
Your eyes run down his length. You notice that where his skin merges with scales is low—super low—and his v-line is very… prominent. You flush at your impure and disrespectful thoughts.
You yank at your chains. How could you? Now is not the time!
Your wrists are handcuffed and chained over your head, and they make an unholy racket as you bang against the steel wall, but Rafayel breathes softly and peacefully on the table, unperturbed by your sudden racket.
The restraints hold quite well. They weren’t installed by underpaid amateurs.
In dismay you hang your head and murmur to yourself, “Rafayel, wake up.”
“Well that’s interesting,” a cold voice cuts through your thoughts and a shiver laces down your spine. You look up at the suited man through the curtain of your hair, but he’s staring fixedly at Rafayel. The bond mark on his chest is glowing faintly, and then it slowly fades away, back into his skin.
“It looks like our Lemurian is bonded. We did wonder, the last time we had him. So tell me, Miss Hunter, is he your slave or your mate?”
“Wha-what?” You look at him in shock.
Mate!?
You’re not sure which word troubles you more. Neither? How could it be either?
He continues blithely.
“For all their advanced abilities and capabilities, Lemurians have several easily exploitable weaknesses. For instance, by taking the scale of one, you’ve indentured them to you for life. They must do whatever you say. When this one was first in our possession, we endeavored to do as such, but our numerous attempts failed to produce results. We postulated that he was already bonded, though it was unusual for one so young. When did you do it, I wonder?”
He snickers darkly, “and then of course, you’re already aware of that powerful little aphrodisiac perfume.” He hums. “Too bad it doesn’t work on humans.”
He drones on, but you’re still fixated on ‘mate’ and ‘bonded.’
When? You wished you could remember.
Your excursion to the Blue Hole unearthed some memories from the depths of your mind, but they’re confused and hazy. You think you were on a beach? And he promised to find you?
The man’s hand suddenly whips out and he grabs your chin, roughly turning you to face him.
“Let’s test it and see how much control you really have over the Lemurian, hmm?”
You furrow your brow and blink at him in confusion.
He raises his eyebrows expectantly and clarifies, “wake him up.”
At your blank stare and gaping mouth he huffs and explains. “Just command him. It shouldn’t be hard.”
“Uhhhh… wake up, Rafayel,” you say hesitantly.
Nothing happens.
You look over at your captor.
“Keep trying,” he insists.
“Wake up, wake up,” you repeat tremulously.
When nothing happens again he violently grabs your hair and yanks your head back.
“You know, I heard you have to really mean it, and I gotta tell you, it doesn’t seem like you do.”
You hear some rustling and the cocking of a gun. You feel the cold barrel press against your temple.
“So I’m gonna ask you one… more… time. Wake the fish up.”
Tears of pain and humiliation leak from your eyes.
“Rafayel… wake up, wake up, wake up.”
To your relief and dismay, his chest finally glows red. You hear him groan. The straps creak as he tries to move. His eyes snap open as he struggles against his restraints.
“What the—!” Rafayel exclaims.
Pleased laughter rings out from the man and he removes the gun and releases your hair.
“Wonderful!” he exclaims.
Rafayel just barely manages to turn his head. He sees you chained and hanging. He sees the man responsible for all this holstering his gun.
“You—!”
He struggles against his restraints some more but it’s futile.
Then the room grows warmer and warmer. He’s summoning his evol! Flames lick up and down his body, but they slip right over the straps, doing nothing. The heat is starting to feel scorching though.
“Ah, ah, ah!” exclaims the man. “None of that!” he says as he slaps his hand down on a button. A machine whirs to life and you see fluid speed through the IV tube inserted into Rafayel’s arm.
Rafayel’s eyes roll back and he passes out— sedated once more.
The man brushes his suit down and looks at you. “Well, that was interesting. Thank you for the show. Fireproofing all our equipment was a good idea, and effective, but being trapped in an oven with an open flame would still cook us alive, it seems.”
He tutts and mulls over that unexpected problem.
You wet your lips and ask, “what do you want from us?”
He slowly looks over at you. Then he reaches into one of the medical cabinets and pulls out a syringe. He fills it with liquid from a vial. You try to cringe away when he approaches you, but he simply grabs your hair and yanks your head back again, exposing your neck.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” he answers as the needle slides into your flesh and you fade back into unconsciousness as well.