It would give me an edge, and I could convince her to drop that glass and her ridiculous plan.
So, I cross my arms, smirk confidently, and do my thing.
She freezes. Her nostrils flare, and her long thick eyelashes flutter. Then she drops the glass.
In other circumstances, I would have laid my claim on her. The temptation is so strong that I see red. My fangs elongate, and I breathe in her alien, intoxicating scent. Like an exotic fruit, ripe for tasting, like a well-aged liquor, like a sweet perfume lingering in the air. I salivate.
The woman’s eyes glitter, and she staggers toward me. I can smell the chemical adjustments in her body when it processes my message.
She approaches me slowly; her pupils dilate, and she halts just an inch away from my heaving chest. I grab her hand and prepare to lead her back, when she props herself on her toes and kisses me.
It is a tiny, harmless kiss on my chin, as she is much shorter and cannot reach my lips, yet my reactions are faster than my senses, and I respond. I lean in, brush my lips on her neck, grazing her satin skin with my fangs. She moans and presses herself into me, and I pull her closer, craving her warmth. Her eyes seek out mine; her lips parted, an unspoken question lingering in the air.
It is wrong, and a distraction to my mission, yet my perfectly trained and disciplined body cannot resist. I realize that a mortal would barely survive mating with a dark elf. Humans are so fragile they couldn’t endure such a union with any magical being. And yet the power of her blood, the magic in her core, calls to mine, a mighty primal song that I cannot resist. My whole being is drawn to her, to her otherness; I am aching for contact, my arousal already visible under my leathers, and I capture her lips in a rough, bruising kiss.
My tongue explores the depths of her delicious mouth, savoring her flavor, demanding surrender. It’s not enough, and I grab a fistful of her hair, drawing her even closer, if that is possible, while my other hand roams over her body. Those curves…
The instant my palm cups her breast’s supple rounded flesh, my mind goes blank. The little human taunts me and leans into my touch, molding her warm frame to mine. A warning rumble escapes my chest, my fangs aching, craving to sink into her flesh.
This has to end now, or it will go very, very wrong. With the last spark of common sense, I sweep Celeste off her feet, swing her over my shoulder, and carry her back to my hideout. The scent of her arousal just inches from my face, the rounding of her backside under my palm, is so intense that I feel my thick shaft throbbing.
Before she can react, I kick the door open, throw her on the bed, and with one swift pull, take off my belt and use it as a restraint. With my large hand at her neck, I pin her to the bed while pulling her arms up and tying them to the headboard. She watches me through half-lidded eyes, assuming this is some kind of foreplay. I whirl about the room and search for some tape for her legs. Touching her bare skin, seeing her helpless at my feet, stokes the flames inside me to an all-consuming fire. My ache for her is so overwhelming that I contemplate betraying my peoples’ hopes for an instant of bliss inside her. The Elders have chosen the wrong hero…
I know that I have to run. Otherwise, I’ll give in to this dark-haired temptation and ruin my peoples’ chance for a normal life.
I finally find some discarded tape and tie her ankles, brushing my fingers over her smooth skin, and she purrs in delight, squeezing her thighs. Our eyes are locked, and she can read all the dark instincts rearing their monstrous heads inside me. Oh, how I crave ripping this wretched gown apart, sinking my fangs into the sensitive flesh of her lush breasts, whose nipples strain beneath the fabric, and burying myself to the hilt into her intense mortal heat. Yet I know better.
At that point, the woman senses something is off and starts pulling on the restraints.
I rise and leave my hideout with quick steps, not looking back, fleeing the sweet poisonous promises of her body. I give Cerberus an order to guard her and disappear into the gloomy labyrinth of my new home. I will be back in the morning to commence the extraction.
I lose myself in the darkness, then wrap my fingers around my thick cock. Visions of Celeste bare and spread before me, her heavy breasts bouncing with my every thrust, torment me. My thirst is not quenched when I spurt my seed into the darkness, and the tunnels echo my roar.
I hunger for more.
Celeste- The Anchor
A ll my attempts to free myself remain futile.
My captor knew what he was doing.
Who is he really, and how did I end up in this mess? Am I at the mercy of some psychotic serial killer who likes to taunt his victims with fantastic stories?
Yet I believe him. The last days’ events were way too weird to chalk it all up to randomness.
I look around. The warm light of the candles and lanterns reflects on the piled-up parts and machinery. It seems like the workshop of a steampunk-obsessed engineer who also enjoys swordsmanship and martial arts.
The metallic behemoth my captor called Cerberus is nowhere to be seen; it probably waits outside, following Cyrell’s order.
What is wrong with me to throw myself at him without restraint? Nobody had ever kissed me like that. Diaphonus’ kisses held the promise of a tender and devoted lover, but Cyrell´s were the claim of a conqueror, of a ruthless warlord. Squeezing my thighs together, I feel my panties dampen at the thought of him. Surely he is one of the most attractive men I have seen in my whole life, yet that behavior is so not me. I was running away from him, terrified by his cold and menacing demeanor and that evil machine he called the Extractor, but suddenly, something changed. I think there is a name for that. Stockholm syndrome. Or was it some magical Fae trick?
A loud rumble reverberates under the rough concrete ceiling, and I freeze. The heavy fire door at the room’s far end flies open, and two familiar silhouettes burst in. Diaphonus and Tarcyll, still wearing the same clothes from the nightclub, spot me immediately. Stumbling over the piles of clutter and books strewn on the bare concrete floor, they rush toward the bed I am tied to.
Relief is the last thing I expect to feel when I see these two, who bring nothing but havoc into my life. Yet they are a far better option than the white-haired maniac who makes my sensitive parts twitch on command but fills my heart with icy terror. And an odd, unhealthy curiosity. The combination seems contradictory to my body, as I feel my nipples stiffen again.
Right on time to draw the hungry gaze of Tarcyll.
While Diaphonus scans the surroundings, he takes a moment to savor my restrained body, his dark eyes clouding with desire.
