5. Valek

valek

. . .

The room is dim, illuminated only by the soft glow of candles placed carefully around us, casting shadows that dance along the walls like ethereal spirits. Odette stands across from me, her hands poised above a small ceramic bowl filled with dried sage leaves. The window is open just a crack, allowing the chill of the morning air to mingle with the warmth inside our makeshift sanctuary.

"Are you attempting to banish me?" The first whiff is sharp, almost acrid, and instinctively, my body tenses. Demons and dark creatures are repelled by sage, and every fiber in me screams to recoil. But then, there's Odette—her calm presence, her unwavering gaze fixed on me with something like determination mixed with care. Besides, if that's her goal, she'll need far more than an offensive scent to get rid of me.

She offers a small, knowing smile and nods. "Of course not. It's just sage," she replies gently as if she understands the chaos stirring inside me at that very moment.

I nod, forcing myself to focus on her rather than the instinctual dread that claws at my insides. As the smoke rises in thin wisps, it carries an earthy aroma that gradually softens the initial harshness. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding and simply watch her.

Odette gracefully moves around the small room, directing smoke into corners with a large feather she handles skillfully. Her actions are elegant, a ritualistic dance that mesmerizes me. She's so absorbed in her task that she seems almost untouchable—yet strangely, it draws me closer.

"Sage cleanses," she explains over her shoulder, her voice laced with reverence for this simple act. "It purifies spaces and clears them of negativity. It can do the same for people."

"Is that what you're doing now? Cleansing me?" I tease lightly, trying to ease the tightness in my chest.

"Perhaps," Odette replies with a playful glint in her eyes. "Or maybe I'm just practicing on an unwilling subject."

When she sits across from me, I lean closer because the short distance feels too much like a barrier now. The scent of sage clings to the air between us, and I breathe it in—less harsh now, more comforting. Closer still, I see flecks of green in her blue eyes that I hadn't noticed before.

"How does it feel?" Odette asks earnestly as she assumes a meditative pose.

"Like starting anew," I admit without really meaning to say it aloud.

Suddenly, Odette reaches out and places her palm against my chest over my heart—a touch so featherlight yet loaded with unspoken questions and possibilities. The contact sends warmth spiraling down to my very core.

"It's good," I manage to say through a suddenly constricted throat. "It's cleansing."

Odette smiles and then closes her eyes, perhaps to better capture the essence. The earthy and robust scent envelops me, swirling around and filling up the space within me that I hadn't realized was void. With each breath, it feels like layers of grime are peeled from my soul, revealing something raw and tender.

Feeling unexpectedly vulnerable, I open my eyes to find Odette watching me closely, her brows pinched in concentration. She's beautiful like this—caught between caretaker and curious scientist.

"How do you feel?" Odette asks softly.

"Relaxed," I admit reluctantly, as if whatever darkness clung to me has temporarily vanished. I must assume it would take more than one session to permanently remove the dark veil that hangs over me.

She smiles at me, a small, triumphant kindling that adds warmth to her eyes. "Good. Now let's try something else." She selects another from her array of bottles—this one slim and filled with a liquid that captures the light like amber.

"Lavender," Odette announces as she opens it. "For calming and healing." She dabs lavender oil onto a cotton ball and hands it to me.

I inhale deeply—the fragrance is floral and sweet, vastly different from the sage, but equally potent in its own way. It seeps into my senses, smoothing out edges I hadn't noticed before. My shoulders relax without permission, tension bleeding away as easily as watercolor on wet paper.

Odette's presence becomes a focal point again as she straightens her posture, her expression laced with curiosity and something softer—an emotion I can't quite place, but it makes my heart beat faster nonetheless. "Better?" Her voice is barely above a whisper.

"Much," I respond truthfully, our eyes locking as a silent acknowledgment passes between us. This feels like much more than an experiment in aromatherapy.

Odette leans forward, the flickering candlelight casting playful shadows across her delicate features. The corners of her mouth tilt upwards in a mischievous smile, and her eyes—those deep pools of curiosity—lock onto mine with an intensity that feels like they could pierce straight through to my millennia-old soul.

"So," she murmurs, her voice low and enticing, "tell me, Valek. What's it really like to be an incubus? Do all these powers and temptations complicate your life? Or do they make everything… more interesting?" Although she's playful, it's a serious question. My mate needs to be sure of my undying loyalty and fidelity, and I need to feel she's confident in my eternal worship.

I pause for a moment, contemplating how much to reveal. Being an incubus is not just about seduction and desire—it's a complex existence woven with intricacies she might find fascinating or frightful. But looking at Odette, with her eager gaze and fearless expression, I decide on honesty.

"It's both," I confess, watching her reaction closely. "Life as an incubus is a dance on the edge of light and shadow. We thrive on desires—both ours and those of others. It makes every interaction intense."

Her smile widens, intrigued. "And what about love?" Odette probes, tilting her head slightly. "Can someone like you truly share something as tender as love? Or is it all just a game of lust?"

The question stings sharper than I anticipated. Love is a rarity in my world—it's delicate and often overshadowed by darker needs. Yet gazing at Odette, with her unwavering interest and the fiery spark in her eyes, something within me stirs—a whisper of hope, mingled with fear.

"I now believe," I start slowly, choosing my words with care, "that even a demon like me can find love. The challenge lies in balancing the darkness within us. But with the right person, someone who understands and accepts the complexities of our nature… it might not only be possible, but beautiful."

Odette leans in closer, her gaze softening. "Even with a witch? You could set aside the rivalries of our families for a witch?" she teases gently, but there's a serious undertone to her words.

"Yes," I reply earnestly, feeling a connection forming between us that goes beyond mere flirtation or supernatural intrigue. "A witch who is not afraid of the darkness that comes before the dawn." I keep my voice low, aware of the way her gaze latches onto mine, unyielding and intense. "You mustn't concern yourself with my life as an incubus. That's all in the past. As a mated male, I have a much more important role to play."

"Are you truly a mated male? I do not consider myself mated," Odette challenges, her head tilting in defiance.

I smile, letting the silence stretch between us for a heartbeat too long. "We are mates, little one. You may hesitate now, but the gods have created us for one another. We can embrace it or live the remainder of our long lives missing the other half of our souls."

She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her movements fluid and enchanting. "Do you think you would be…a good mate to a witch?"

The question sends a ripple through the calm sea of my demeanor. Being with a witch—a partner both powerful and understanding of the darker threads woven into my nature—holds a certain appeal that's hard to dismiss.

"With all my heart, yes," I answer sincerely. "I've spent over a thousand years as an incubus, but through it all, I craved an intimate connection that would go beyond the physical—a spiritual, emotional partnership." I pause for a moment before continuing. The question is deeper than it appears. It's about compatibility, about the possibility of two worlds not just meeting but melding. My fingers brush lightly against hers as I seek confirmation of a spark I know is there. "But perhaps the real question is whether a witch believes she could find harmony with someone like me."

Odette's response is immediate and decisive. "This witch is uncertain whether a match with a demon is suitable or beneficial. My sister would not give her blessing to our union, and as her subject, I am obliged to heed her concerns."

"I am not afraid of your sister," I grunt, concerned the queen of witches will interfere with destiny. "She is not allowed to come between fated mates."

"There are laws, and then there is familial duty. But there is no need to discuss such things now." Odette's eyes meet mine as she rises to her feet. "So, maybe," she whispers back, leaning even closer so that her breath tickles my ear, sending shivers down my neck, "we should explore these details another day."