Page 7 of Damsel to the Demon

It's almost insulting how readily they accepted me, never suspecting the predator in their midst.

A commotion draws my attention. The captain, a brutish excuse for a leader, drags a human female behind him. Her white dress, torn and stained with blood, catches on every stone and twig. She struggles feebly, her movements as ineffective as a newborn kitten's mewling.

"Move aside," the captain barks, shoving past a group of soldiers.

I step back, keeping my eyes lowered like a good little soldier. But I can't help stealing glances at the woman. Something about her captivates me, stirring an unfamiliar sensation in my chest.

"Sir, shall I take her to the cells?" I ask, hoping to get closer. The words feel strange on my tongue, subservience an ill-fitting mask for a being like me.

The captain sneers, his breath reeking of cheap ale. "No need. This one's mine."

The human female thrashes in the captain's grip, her voice raw with anguish. "Kill me! I'd rather die than?—"

Our eyes lock.

Time stops.

My breath catches in my throat. Her eyes—they're... mesmerizing. Deep pools of liquid amber, flecked with gold. Sorrow and rage swirl in their depths, a tempest of emotion that threatens to drown me.

I've never seen anything like them.

My fingers twitch, longing to pluck those exquisite orbs from her skull. To preserve their beauty forever in my collection. My mouth waters at the thought. It's an urge I've indulged countless times before, a hunger as familiar as breathing.

But then I truly hear her words.

"Please," she begs, "just let me die."

Something shifts inside me. A foreign sensation, unfamiliar and unsettling.

Is this... empathy? Impossible. I'm a demon, for fuck's sake. We don't feel.

Centuries of existence have taught me that emotions are a weakness, a human frailty I've long since abandoned.

And yet...

The despair in her voice echoes through me, resonating with something long buried. Memories of my own past, of pain and loss, flicker at the edges of my consciousness. I push them away, unsettled by their sudden resurgence.

My nails lengthen into razor-sharp talons, hidden beneath the illusion of my disguise. The urge to kill rises—but not her. No, I want to tear into the smug bastard who dares treat such a treasure so callously.

I force myself to remain still, to think.

This changes everything.

My original mission seems trivial now, compared to the prize before me. The noble I was sent to assassinate fades from my mind, replaced by the burning desire to possess those eyes.

Those eyes will be mine. But not like this. Not broken and lifeless.

The captain's words slice through my thoughts. "Take her to my quarters. I'll be there shortly."

My blood boils. The urge to rip his throat out nearly overwhelms me.

But I can't. Not yet. I need a plan.

The camp is crawling with dark elves, and while I could slaughter them all, it would draw unwanted attention. Subtlety is key.

Those eyes. Fuck, I can't look away from them. Amber pools of sorrow and rage.

They're more captivating than any I've collected before. And suddenly, I realize - I don't want them lifeless. I want to see them change, to witness every flicker of emotion.

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