My smile is feral and unforgiving. “I would love nothing more than to cut you open like a pig. Let your precious Nightmother take that as my fucking sacrifice.”
I lean in to break her, to taunt her. A grin soon tugs at my lips at the thought.
“Go on, Millicent,” I whisper against her ear. “Call to her. You’re sorare,right? The Nightmother’s chosen child?”
I chuckle, letting the heat from my breath mock her. “Call to her now.Begher to save you from me, princess.”
She thrashes against me, her rage breaking loose.
“Fuck you!" she screams.
The motion drives the blade a little deeper, and I hum in pleasure at her gasp.
“Oh, don’t worry, little witch.” I sneer, tightening my hold on her. “I know exactly what you want.”
I press into her back, laughing darkly against her ear. “I know you want me filling you. You want me fucking you. You’ve already soaked my pants. Your pussy is begging for my cock, isn’t it?”
That hits her harder than any blade could.
Her blue eyes ignite, and the shadows around us are no longer silent; they snarl, alive and vicious.
Her shadow beasts are coming.
Good.
I’m not in the mood to let them interrupt. I roll my neck, exhaling slowly, and then summon Vyraxis.
Mist peels off my skin—dark, thick—twisting upward into a rolling cyclone that devours the sky.
The air grows heavy. Above us, the massive form of Vyraxis tears free from the clouds, blocking out the moon and drowning the clearing in darkness.
Millicent shudders in my arms.
The game has changed.
“Aww,” I hum mockingly, forcing her head so that the clearing is all she can see.
“Is that who ate your precious sisters?”
Vyraxis roars; the sound is so deep it rattles through my chest, even from where I stand.
Her horned head swivels slowly, focusing on the writhing shadow beats lurking at the edges of the trees.
Sensing my need, she responds immediately, her massive body surging forward, and silver flames pour from the dark alcoves like a flood.
One by one, the shadows ignite. Snarls cease mid-breath; ash rains down, but I don’t even bother watching them burn.
Rather, I look down to Millicent. I don’t bother dressing her. I like her vulnerability. I slide the dagger away from her throat and turn it on her gown instead, slicing through where it managed to cling around her wide hips.
The fabric falls away, puddling at her knees. She’s left in nothing but the barest lace, clinging uselessly to her skin.
The heart-shaped curve of her rear is exposed. Her body is offered up, whether she wants it or not.
My cock twitches, responding without permission at the sight of her.
Focus…control.
The thing inside me—the dark, monstrous thing—thrashes against its chains, demanding release. It wants to tear her apart. It wants to finish this the way my blood was designed to. Already, too much of it is in control.
