Page 21 of Illicit Bargain

Kynor, dragging his feet, mutters something under his breath. I yank his chain hard, making him stumble. “Speak up, Kynor. I love a good last word.”

He glares at me but says nothing. Typical. They all think silence will save them.

Catandria’s fingers brush against mine as we move forward. She’s a vision of determination, and I can’t help but feel a thrill at the thought of what’s to come. “Are you ready for this?” I ask, my voice low and intimate.

She nods, her eyes never leaving mine. “More than ever.”

Chalan tries to make a break for it, darting into the tall grass. I sigh, irritated. “Stay here,” I command Catandria. She watches as I lunge after him, my muscles coiling with the thrill of the chase.

“Get back here, you coward!” I growl, catching him easily. I drag him back, his face a mask of defeat.

“Thought you could escape, huh?” Catandria sneers, kicking him as he falls to his knees. “You’re pathetic.”

I grip Chalan’s hair, forcing him to look at me. “I like giving you hope. Makes the despair so much sweeter.”

He whimpers, a sound that only fuels my excitement. “Please, no more.”

I turn to Catandria, her presence a steady flame beside me. “Shall we begin?”

She nods, her lips curling into a cruel smile. “Let’s make them suffer.”

We secure the captives in a circle, their chains gleaming under the moonlight. I can feel the energy of the full moon coursing through me, mingling with my own dark power. This is it. The moment we’ve been waiting for.

Catandria steps forward, her voice steady. “Any last words?” she asks, her tone mocking.

Darana sobs, Kynor remains silent, and Chalan simply looks defeated.

Perfect.

The night air is thick with the scent magic, a heady concoction that sets my demon senses alight. I stand at the edge of the ritual circle, a construct of ancient power etched into the ground with precision, its lines pulsing with an otherworldly glow.

Catandria moves with practiced grace, her hands steady as she secures the dark elves to the ground, their bodies splayed out to form a grotesque triangle within the circle's confines.

Chalan, Kynor, and Darana—each a testament to dark elf arrogance—now lie helpless, their eyes wide with terror as they realize the gravity of their predicament. It's a sight that brings a cruel smile to my lips. They had enjoyed their power, reveled in the pain and suffering they inflicted upon others. Now, they're on the receiving end, and I can't help but savor the irony.

"Tonight, you pay your dues," I declare, my voice carrying across the field, resonating with the power that courses through my veins.

Catandria glances at me, her green eyes reflecting the moonlight. "Let's make this memorable," she says, her voice steady, betraying none of the excitement I know is bubbling beneath the surface.

I nod in approval, watching as she begins the ritual, her movements precise and deliberate. She slices into Chalan's wrist, his blood flowing freely, forming a crimson pool that seeps into the earth. The air crackles with energy as she moves to Kynor and then Darana, their life force feeding the ritual, empowering the circle with their essence.

I step forward, joining Catandria in the center of the circle. The power of the full moon washes over us, mingling with the sacrifices' blood. It's an intoxicating sensation, one that sharpens my focus and heightens my senses.

"Strip," I command, my eyes locked on Catandria's. She hesitates for a moment before complying, her clothes falling away to reveal her slender figure. She stands before me, unashamed and resolute, a sight that stirs something primal within me.

I grab her forcefully, opening her mouth and dipping my tongue in. I force open her legs and position my cock against her sopping entrance.

She's ready for this.

I whisper incantations, ancient words of power that resonate with the very fabric of our reality. Catandria's body shudders with each syllable, her transformation already underway.

As our passion reaches its zenith, I lean in, capturing her lips in another searing kiss. Our tongues entwine, a dance of hunger and need. I can taste the dark elves' blood on her tongue, a bitter, metallic flavor that only serves to heighten my arousal.

"Drink," I urge, offering her my wrist. She bites down, her teeth breaking my skin. The taste of my demon blood fills her mouth, a potent elixir that will seal her transformation.

I resume my thrusting into her opening. Our bodies convulse as we feed on each other, the circle around us blazing with an otherworldly light. I can feel the power surging through us, a torrent of ancient magic that binds us together in this sacred rite as she reaches her orgasm.

The screams of the dark elves reach a crescendo, their bodies shriveling like grapes left in the sun, their skin turning to parchment as they are drained of their very essence. The blood seeps from their desiccated forms, crawling across the ground towards Catandria, drawn to her like metal to a magnet.

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