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Some of the women are visibly trembling, and I stop myself from pacing forward to revel in their terror. I do possess a mirror in my residence, and know how my many battle scars affect the fairer sex. No matron has offered to share her bed as of late, but one of these women will.
She’ll have no choice.
“Each of you have earned this boon,” the King continues. “Consider it a gift, with only a minimal cost. Keep them alive, but otherwise, breed them how you will.”
My heart picks up speed.
Before I leave here, one of them will be mine to play with.
I look them over with more discrimination this time. They each have their own appeal, from the voluptuous one that’s pushing her knuckles into her eyes, to the tall one with a blotchy face and firm mouth. Each would squeal for me in the end, some sooner than others. Though there are many demons to look at, most of the humans watch me.
My cock twinges at the thought of each of them beneath me. Not yet, I tell myself, withholding the sensation before I’m overcome with it. Have patience.
“Volikan,” comes my name off the King’s lips. “Step forward.”
When I do, all eyes are on me.
I revel in the attention, especially that of the women, who finally see my scarred countenance in its entirety. Some even gasp when I pull my lips back to reveal two sets of sharpened teeth. “Yes, my King?”
He makes a gesture towards his trolvor guards without a word. They seem to know what to do, shoving a particularly fair human forward. She stumbles and rights herself, taking me with widening eyes before she decides to look past me.
“Take your prize.”
This one?
I study her pale flesh, and the vital pulse of her heart in her throat. Unlike the others, her cheeks are not stained with tears, and though she wears the ill fitting dress, I don’t doubt her form is as milky and rich as the rest of her.
I draw closer, rolling a lock of her rich brown hair around one claw. A sudden tremor finds her, but she clenches her jaw tighter in an effort to remain stoic. How long will she last, I have to wonder as I bask in her valiant attempt to stifle her fear.
I never take my eyes off her, even when I address King Asmodeus. “It is a generous gift, Your Majesty.”
The gravel of my voice makes her close her eyes.
But I don’t give her time to mourn her fate, dragging her in by the wrist so that full lips open on a gasp. My battle hardened fingers close around her neck, forcing her face to meet mine. There’s a pause before her eyes slide open, and cool accusation simmers there.
I catch her rump and drag our hips flush, finally garnering a little moan out of her. It’s a delicious sound that I suck in before she has a chance to protest further. The rest are staring.
Let them see how it is done.
Her tongue battles mine, refusing to let me in.
And I chuckle, taking my own tongue back before she snaps it between her flat white teeth. “Good,” I tell her. “It wouldn’t be any fun if you didn’t struggle.”
I swear she’s about to curse me when I drag her head to one side, mouthing the skin of her throat. My cock is already rock hard. Can she feel it? Can she sense the heat of me, craving her? The King wants us to create offspring but it is the last thing on my mind right now as my teeth graze her soft flesh.
My thumb is pressed to the underside of her jaw, so she couldn’t speak if she wanted to. It’s inadvisable anyhow, in front of the King who considers her little more than a vessel for my use. But even in the soft strain of her body, she resists me.
You’ll learn, I think, opening my mouth wide. One way or another.
Her cry echoes through the great hall, every being frozen—even the King—as I break flesh, tasting her short years on a heavy draw. My thumb tightens around her throat, which works furiously, but only a stifled mewl escapes her as she claws at me.
I withdraw before I lose myself, my tongue sliding over her wounded flesh like an ur’gin attempting to soothe the pain. A different sort of sound escapes her. It’s small and pathetic, full of grief I don’t bother to comprehend.
I glance down at my work, reveling in the blooming circle at her throat that marks her as mine. Her breathing is coming fast, her fear spiking with the rate of her heart as the wound beads with fresh blood.
I hesitate to taste her again. Not in front of the others, who are already poised to claim their own humans. A frenzy could easily break out, and I won’t be responsible for it. Instead, I lick my bloody lips and glance up at the King, who is staring at the affair with silent expectation.
“She will do,” I say, pulling her taut against me. “Consider your order fulfilled.”
