27
THORRIN
The feeding begins before the bodies are even cold.
Kaerith tears strips of flesh from Malakor's chest with his bare hands, blood running down his forearms in crimson rivers. His pupils are dilated with something beyond hunger—sexual arousal mixed with predatory satisfaction that makes every ancient instinct I possess scream warnings.
The smell hits me like physical blow. Copper and iron and something else—the meaty sweetness of fresh kill mixed with arousal musk that speaks of creatures finding sexual satisfaction in systematic murder. My stomach churns, but I can't look away from the tableau unfolding before me.
"Taste this," Kaerith growls to Elira, offering her a piece of still-warm liver that steams in the cathedral's cold air. "You can actually taste his rage. All that trauma, concentrated into flavor."
Elira takes the organ between her teeth with deliberate sensuality, biting down with eyes closed in ecstasy. Her moan vibrates through the chamber as blood runs down her chin. When she opens her eyes, they're bright with euphoria that has little to do with nourishment.
"Exquisite," she breathes, pink tongue darting out to catch drops before they fall. "We should save some for later. Mix it with his whore's heart for the full experience."
They move around the corpses like lovers preparing romantic dinner, selecting choice cuts while their hands roam each other's blood-slicked bodies. Every touch leaves crimson handprints. Every kiss tastes of their enemies' flesh, shared between mouths that once spoke of mercy.
The casual intimacy of it—the way they feed each other pieces of still-warm meat while grinding against each other in arousal—makes me understand this isn't temporary madness. This is revelation. Discovery of appetites they never knew they possessed until victory gave them permission to indulge every darkest impulse.
"Look what we built together," Kaerith says, gesturing at the carnage while pulling Elira against him. Bone fragments crunch under their feet as they embrace among scattered remains. "Look what choosing darkness accomplished."
His hand slides between her thighs as she grinds against him, both aroused by the scent of death and knowledge of their superiority. The wet sounds of their passion mix with dripping blood, creating symphony of corruption that makes my soul recoil.
"We should celebrate properly," Elira purrs, her bloodstained fingers tracing patterns across Kaerith's chest. "Share everything we've accomplished. Everything we've become."
Her eyes find mine across the chamber, bright with hunger that has nothing to do with the meat they've been consuming. She licks blood from her lips with deliberate slowness, making her meaning unmistakable.
"Everything," Kaerith agrees, following her gaze with dawning hunger. "Why should we limit ourselves to traditional boundaries when we've transcended every other constraint?"
He approaches with casual confidence, blood still dripping from his claws. Behind him, Elira moves with predatory grace that triggers every survival instinct evolution has given my species.
"You helped us become this," Kaerith says, stopping just outside arm's reach. "Contributed to our victory through tactical expertise. Don't you want to experience what we've achieved?"
"Share in the spoils," Elira adds, reaching toward Lyssa with crimson-stained fingers. "Taste what evolution offers when you stop clinging to primitive possessiveness."
The casual way she suggests it—like offering refreshments rather than proposing violation of everything decent—makes it even more obscene. They're not driven by lust or madness. This is calculated desire to optimize every aspect of existence, including sexual resources.
"Traditional bonding is just another limitation," Kaerith explains with infinite patience. "Exclusive attachment that serves sentiment rather than mutual enhancement. We've learned to share everything that makes us stronger."
"Think how much more efficient we could become," Elira continues, circling closer. "Four minds, four bodies, working in perfect coordination. No jealousy, no possessiveness, just pure optimization of available resources."
Her voice carries maternal warmth that makes the proposal infinitely more disturbing. This isn't crude proposition but loving invitation to join whatever they've become through willing participation in systematic abandonment of moral constraint.
"Lyssa could learn so much from me," she adds, eyes bright with anticipation. "About pleasure without sentiment,satisfaction without weakness. And you could teach Kaerith about the satisfaction of truly ancient appetites."
"No." The word tears from my throat, carrying centuries of accumulated rage at watching friends transform into creatures that view love as commodity.
I step between them and Lyssa, my massive frame blocking their approach while every muscle tenses for violence. Ancient reflexes flood my system with adrenaline, preparing for battle against opponents who know exactly how to exploit every weakness.
"How disappointing," Elira sighs, settling back against Kaerith with genuine sadness. "Still trapped by emotional frameworks that limit growth potential."
"Primitive possessiveness," Kaerith agrees, his arm tightening around her waist. "The kind of thinking that creates weakness instead of strength."
They mock my attachment as evolutionary failure, laughing at the concept that love might involve exclusivity rather than strategic optimization. To them, my refusal represents clinging to outdated constraints that serve no useful purpose.
"You could learn so much," Elira continues with maternal patience. "About love that serves mutual enhancement rather than mutual limitation."
"We've transcended jealousy," Kaerith explains with pride. "Overcome the territorial instincts that make traditional bonds vulnerable. When everything is shared, nothing can be taken away."
