Page 27 of The Demon's Tongue

He's lounging in a high-backed chair that looks more like a throne, his long white hair cascading over his shoulders. His dark skin seems to absorb the light around him, making the numerous rings on his fingers stand out even more.

"I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to?—"

"Stare?" He smirks, raising an eyebrow. "It's quite alright. I do enjoy watching newcomers gawk at my humble abode."

Humble? I almost snort but manage to catch myself. There's nothing humble about this place.

"Come closer," he commands, gesturing with a lazy wave of his hand.

I obey, my feet moving almost of their own accord. As I approach, I can't help but notice the way his eyes roam over me, taking in every detail of the outfit Derina gave me. I fight the urge to cover myself.

"Do you know why I've summoned you here?" Sylas asks, his voice smooth as silk but with an edge that makes me shiver.

"No, Master Sylas," I reply, proud that my voice doesn't waver. "I was hoping you might enlighten me."

He chuckles, the sound both musical and menacing. "Spirited, aren't you? I do enjoy that in my... acquisitions."

He stands from his seat, rounding the desk to reach me. He exudes power; it radiates off of him in waves. I hardly have the courage to stare him directly in the eyes.

I take a deep breath, willing my voice not to quaver. "If I may ask, Master Sylas, why have you summoned me here?"

His lips curl into a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Curious little thing, aren't you?" He begins to circle me slowly, like a predator sizing up its prey. "I wonder, do all humans share your inquisitive nature?"

I can feel his gaze on me, sharp and calculating. It takes everything I have not to squirm under his scrutiny.

"I've heard interesting things about you, Geneva," he continues, his voice silky smooth. "Your first night here was quite eventful, wasn't it?"

My heart skips a beat. Does he know about the old dark elf? About what I did?

"I aim to please, Master Sylas," I manage to say, keeping my tone neutral.

He chuckles, a sound that sends shivers down my spine. "Oh, I'm sure you do." He pauses behind me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. "Tell me, how are you finding your new home?"

"It's... different from what I'm used to," I reply carefully.

"I imagine so," he murmurs, resuming his slow circle. "You've adapted well, though. Derina tells me you're quite diligent in your duties."

There's something in his tone that makes me wonder what else Derina might have told him. I resist the urge to fidget with the hem of my dress.

"You're a striking creature," Sylas remarks casually, stopping in front of me. His eyes roam over my face, lingering on my lips. "Those eyes of yours... they're quite captivating. I can see why you've caught the attention of some of our more discerning clients."

I swallow hard, unsure how to respond. "Thank you, Master," I say finally, the words feeling hollow in my mouth.

He reaches out, his fingers grazing my cheek. I fight the instinct to flinch away. "I have high hopes for you, Geneva," hesays, his voice low and intimate. "I think you'll do very well here. Very well indeed."

Suddenly, his hands find their way to my shoulders, where he sweeps the fabric down my arms. I tense up, my heart beginning to thrum against my ribcage, and I try to stop him, but his grip only tightens on me. The cool air hits my exposed skin, making me shiver involuntarily.

My skin prickles with discomfort, goosebumps rising along my arms. Every instinct screams at me to get away, but I'm frozen in place, my mind racing through a thousand desperate scenarios. I can feel the cold metal of his rings against my skin, a sickening discomfort that makes me tremble under his stare.

I force myself to remain still, every muscle in my body screaming to run, to fight, to do something. But I know I can't. I'm trapped here, in this moment, with no escape in sight. I clench my jaw, trying to maintain some semblance of control over my emotions, even as fear threatens to overwhelm me.

"What are you doing?" I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper.

He doesn’t answer, just lets his fingers trace a path down my arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The sensation is unnerving, like being stalked by a predator.

"Master Sylas," I try again, more firmly this time. "What do you think you're doing?"

He chuckles, the sound low and almost affectionate, but there's an edge to it that sends a shiver down my spine. "Just admiring my newest acquisition," he says.

---