Page 130 of Black Sea

Panting, Nauriel looked at my hand impaled on the blood-covered stiletto and at my fingers, which were closed around the short crossguard and touched the ones with which she was wrapping the hilt.

With a blank face, I began to push against the crossguard to make her recoil. The elf attempted to resist, even using her other hand to aid herself as she struggled fruitlessly to dig in her heels.

I guided her backward until the back of her legs hit the furniture with the mirror. Nauriel quickly sat on the top, cluttered with brushes, clasps, and other trinkets, to avoid being crushed against the cabinet by my body and to keep her legs free to move.

I gripped the wrist of her stiletto-wielding hand, squeezing until she groaned. Then, slowly, I began to withdraw my skewered hand.

She stared in shock at the blade sliding with a viscous noise through my fresh flesh without me reacting in the slightest, staining itself even more with thick, red liquid.

Suddenly, I pushed her arm down and squashed her hand against the cabinet shelf so hard that she was forced to let go of the stiletto. She was about to strike me with her other fist . . .

But I pressed my pierced palm against her lips.

Her eyes widened, and she froze for half a second.

Then she began to wriggle like a maniac, shaken by retching due to my blood ending up in her mouth as she screamed against my hand.

I took punches and kicks I didn’t even feel, indifferent to her panic. “Look at me,” I commanded.

The elf gave no sign of hearing me and pressed her feet against my abdomen and hips to push me away, but I stayed steadfast as a monolith. Unwavering.

“ Nauriel,” I said in a vehement tone.

A tone that drew her to me inexorably.

A tone that made her my slave.

Little by little, she stopped struggling, her gaze hypnotized by the intensity burning in mine as blood ran down her chin and neck.

“Swallow,” I ordered sternly.

A few seconds—seeming eternal to me—elapsed.

Then I felt her lips part beneath my palm.

I slightly parted mine as well, enchanted by the movement of her throat as she swallowed the gushes of my blood, the tip of her tongue occasionally licking my open wound without any repulsion.

“That’s it . . .” I encouraged her in a deep, sensual voice, my nostrils flaring from desire to have her. “Good elf.”

The next moment, I took my hand off her mouth and slid two bloodied fingers into her pussy, letting out a moan of appreciation when I found her already wet.

“No!” she screamed, clawing at my wrist with her free hand in an attempt to yank mine off and heel-hitting every part of me she could reach.

“Yes,” I said with growing fervor. “Feel me, Nauriel.” I curled my fingers in a swaying motion to reach the spot that made her burst into a hoarse moan. “Only me.”

She spat in my face.

Feeling her saliva, mixed with my blood, run down my cheek excited me so much that I lost control of my instincts and used my power to keep her arms pinned along her torso as I ripped her bodice in half with a sharp tug.

The next moment, she managed to kick me away.

Seeing her like that, with her torn skirt revealing her legs and her pink, smooth, shiny pussy parted for me, and her small, firm tits rising and falling with the rhythm of her furious breathing, unleashed a primitive desire in me.

A desire that grabbed me before I could tame it.

Maintaining my predatory stare on her, I reached under my tunic to unbutton my trousers and lunged at her once more. Nauriel kicked her legs furiously to prevent me from opening them, her teeth bared like those of a beast ready to bite me to death if she could.

I could use magic to force her knees apart, but I wanted to overpower her with my physical strength alone.