She felt blessed, like the Stars themselves had granted her this. There was no limit, no rules or constraints. She was boundless; she was home, safe and secure in his unbreakable embrace.
~
Shackled in an abrupt and demanding upbringing, Althera is...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
His long nails clicked against each other as he relished the blood that rolled along his tongue and the cries that still reiterated itself in his ears, an orchestral performance of chords and symphonies that lightened him and his growing power. Such a mortal feel to the scream, and he loved it – every note of the woman's pathetic song.
He slithered from his spot on the ceiling and onto the floor, his tail landing behind him with a thump. He was full, and his powerful soulless heart was growing fiercer and fiercer with every breath he took. He sniffed the air and flicked his tongue.
That girl's taste was still there – the flavor he yearned for, craved for. He would particularly enjoy tasting her and listening to her desperate pleas for him to stop what he was doing and let her go.
Stop. What a strange sort of command. As if he would, and as if anyone could make him.
He wriggled into the cell he had trapped her in but allowed her to escape. He needed to intoxicate himself with her smell and feel the kind of effect it had on him. He curled up on the ground, hissing softly as the air covered him. He sniffed it again. The scent was oddly strong in one corner, and he rose from where he lay, his forked tongue sliding out of his mouth.
Prey, his mind thought as he tested the air. There wasn't just the smell of the girl on that mound of hay, but also a peculiar rusty odor, the stench of gold and blood. He recoiled, stunned.
Could it be? No, there was no way. His eyes flitted to the entrance of the dungeon, another hiss escaping through his sharpened teeth before his gaze returned to the messy heap.
Her blood, still somehow fresh and untainted, layered the ground. It was an impossibility that the blood hadn't dried up yet and crusted the stone. Something was preserving it, making him pull back and screech, his talons scraping along the floor of the cell.
What was it? What could make him feel so nauseated and sick? His head shook and his chest caved in.
There wasn't any time, anyway. He would know soon enough. He would soon be unconquerable after the flesh of the girl entered his mouth and slipped down his throat. She had an imperishable spirit and light about her that he would be sure to break – slowly and torturously, letting himself enjoy the precious moments of fear that would radiate off of her and onto the leather of his skin, penetrating through him and making him shudder with the thrill of it all. Nothing would have the ability to stop him then – nothing. Time wouldn't be a hindrance afterward.
