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The End
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BOOK 4: EMBRACING THE DEMON
She worships her gods.
But no god can protect her from me.
I am the demon Volikan.
Battle hardened and cruel, my berserker rage is feared through all planes of existence.
And yet I am ripped from the battlefield by my king to play house with a tiny human woman half my size.
I am enraptured by her beauty.
My body is drawn to her in a way it has never been in the countless eons I’ve been alive.
I don’t know why.
She’s tiny.
She’s loud.
And she’s not afraid of me.
I will not succumb to her feminine charms.
I will not be swayed to mate with her and trade in my flame swords for baby bibs.
Then why is the only thing I can think about the softness of her eyes?
Her smell. Her touch.
And how much I want us to be a family?
93
ANASTASIA
“Is anyone there?” I whisper, peering into the dark. I can’t be sure yet if I’m inviting trouble by speaking, but I take the risk anyway. It all depends on whether a friend or a foe lurks in the shadows. Still, I keep my voice down, testing the water.
No one answers. I wait, listening to the silence that surrounds me. It never breaks, and I finally decide that I must be alone.
Alone. Whether that’s good or bad, I do not know. I suppose it depends on whatever has brought me to this place. Or where this place even is.
I push myself upright, from where I lay on the cold stone floor. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I scan over my surroundings. The only light is one small candle, far away, which doesn’t do much to reveal the setting. It’s hard to see, in the inky blackness, but it’s almost certainly another dungeon.
But it seems utterly unfamiliar. At first, I think it might be a different side of the dungeon that I’m used to. The one that I’ve spent months in. Perhaps I’m still there, just seeing the view from a different angle.
The more my eyes take in, however, the more I become convinced that this is someplace new. I look down at my body for clues, trying to piece together what has transpired in the past few hours. At least, I hope I’ve only lost a few hours. It could just as easily be days, and I suppose it doesn’t really matter in either case.
When you’re a prisoner, time starts to lose all meaning.
The only thing revealed by my limited examination is that I am naked. I tenderly feel over my body, trying to judge what has happened to it when I was unaware. Nothing significant jumps out at me.
No mysterious fluids or sticky thighs. I feel some bruises, but I’m pretty confident they were already there. It’s not like my last dungeon setting didn’t leave marks.
