Page 18 of Demon Lord's Proposal

Finally, I pour the finished elixir into a crystal vial, holding it up to the light. "It's done," I announce, my voice hoarse from hours of incantations.

Deus approaches, taking the vial from my hand. He examines it closely, his expression inscrutable. "And what, pray tell, does this concoction do?"

I hesitate, suddenly uncertain despite the hours of work I've poured into this creation. "I believe it allows the drinker to experience their deepest desires."

His eyebrows raise slightly. "Bold claim. Let's test it, shall we?"

Before I can protest, Deus takes a small sip of the elixir. His eyes widen, then close as he's swept away by the effects. Long moments pass before he speaks again.

"Remarkable," he says, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "The sensations... they're incredibly vivid. It's as if I'm living out my greatest ambitions."

Relief washes over me, followed quickly by pride. All those hours of study, the countless failed attempts, the physical toll of practicing complex gestures – it was all worth it for this moment.

But Deus's expression quickly hardens. "It's potent. Perhaps too potent. The addictive potential is significant."

My elation falters. "I hadn't considered that. Is it dangerous?"

"Everything worth having is dangerous," Deus replies with a wry smile. "But yes, in the wrong hands, this elixir could be devastating. Imagine souls trapped in a cycle of reliving their deepest desires, never wanting to return to reality."

As I leave the lab, exhaustion finally catching up with me, one thought lingers: In the underworld, even the most beautiful creations can have a deadly edge.

But first, sleep.

Tomorrow brings new challenges, and I need to be ready. The path of a master alchemist is never easy, but as I've learned today, the results can be truly extraordinary.

10

RODEO

DEUS

I've been fighting this for weeks now, ever since she stepped behind that bar. Sage, with her fiery spirit and hexeblood aura, has been a constant thorn in my side. I know I shouldn't want her, a needy little apprentice, but the desire has been gnawing at me, growing stronger each day.

The bar is closed, and we're alone. The silence is deafening, broken only by the occasional clink of glassware as I tidy up. Sage is at the other end of the bar, her back to me, wiping down the counter. I can see the gentle curve of her neck, the way her hair falls over her shoulders. My fingers itch to reach out, to touch her. The bar is bathed in shadows, the only light a mellow glow from a single table lamp, casting eerie silhouettes of the varied underworld inhabitants that frequent this joint. The patrons have dispersed, leaving me and Sage, a fiery spirit whose hexeblood aura constantly challenges my own demonic presence.

My loins have yearned for weeks since she sashayed behind that bar, her presence an intoxication that I've long struggled to resist. She's off-limits, a temptation I should not entertain, but my desire grows stronger, a flame that refuses to be extinguished.

Now, alone with her in the murky quiet, the clink of glassware as I tidy up is the only sound, each chime a jab at my restraint. I move closer, each step echoing my pounding heart, my craving for her overwhelming every logical thought.

She tenses, catching my approach out of the corner of her eye. Her breath hitches, and I can sense her anticipation. I reach out, my hand hovers over her shoulder, teasing the fabric of her bar t-shirt. She turns, her eyes ablaze with curiosity and a hint of fear, asking my unspoken question.

"Deus?"

No answer is needed. I already crossed an invisible line, and I'm not turning back. I pull her towards me, our mouths clash in a dance of heated tongues and breathless moans. Sage's hands fist into my shirt, pulling me closer, deeper into our shared insanity.

Our kiss grows frantic, fueled by the piercing tension of our unspoken desire, now finally unleashed. I break away, desperate to catch my breath, my heart drumming wildly against my ribs. I see the same wild desperation mirrored in her gaze, her chest heaving with ragged breaths.

Grabbing her, I hoist her onto the bar. Her legs wrap around my waist, drawing me closer, our bodies molding in a perfect fit. Our lips crash again, deep, ravenous, fuelled by the heated rush pounding in my ears.

My hands roam her body, tracing her curves, pulling at her clothes until she is bare before me. I step back, taking in the vision of her – fiery hair splayed out, eyes half-closed, lips swollen from our frantic kisses. But it's her trembling, expectant body that draws me back to her, and I sink into her heat, our groans echoing in the vacant bar.

I set a brutal pace, gripping her hips hard enough to leave a bruise. She's a needy moan, an urgent whisper of my name, a challenge met, and it gnaws at my control.

Skidding my lips over her throat, I mark her as mine, a staking claim no other demon would dare to contest. But I'm not done with her yet. I flip her over, bending her over the bar. I slap her ass, a stinging reminder of who's in control. Her cry is a mix of pain and pleasure, my name a desperate plea for more.

Fueled by her cry, I thrust deeper, harder. Until we're both panting, both begging for release from this fiery torment. I grip her hair, pulling her head back, our eyes meeting in the mirror behind the bar. "Who owns you?" I snarl, and she needs no encouragement.

"You do!" she cries, and it's all I need. I release, pouring myself into her, branding her, marking her irrevocably as my own.

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