Page 12 of Illicit Bargain

Javan's eyes gleam with a dark amusement. "Eager, aren't we? Very well, little one. The ritual requires the blood of three dark elves. The more powerful, the better. You'll need to drain them dry under the full moon."

My stomach churns at the thought. "Drain them? As in... drink their blood?"

He nods, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "While I chant and they die slowly, you'll drink their blood. You'll give yourself fully to me during this process. It will ensure you become the perfect demon for me."

I take a step back, bile rising in my throat. "Drink their blood? That’s... monstrous."

"Monstrous?" He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. "They did worse to you, didn’t they? You endured their cruelty. You can do this."

I think of the beatings, the nights spent in agony, the degradation. My fingers clench into fists. "You're right. They deserve worse."

He grazes his hand along my cheek, his presence overwhelming. "You want power, don't you? Freedom?"

"Yes," I whisper, the word a desperate plea.

"Then you’ll do what’s necessary." He lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Or would you rather remain their toy?"

"No," I say, more forcefully this time. "I’ll do it."

"Good," he whispers, trailing kisses down my chin. "You know… there's something I want to do first."

"What's that?"

“You've been teasing me, little one,” Javan murmurs, his lips brushing against mine. “Not gonna be patient anymore.”

Before I can respond, he lifts me out of the river effortlessly, my body pressing against his. His strength, even weakened, is undeniable. I wrap my arms around his neck, feeling the muscular texture of his chest against my skin. His eyes lock onto mine, dark and intense, as if he’s reading every thought I’ve ever had.

“Javan, wait—” His mouth cuts off my protest, a demanding kiss that steals my breath and leaves me dizzy. His tongue explores, tasting me, claiming me. I kiss back with equal fervor, the world around us fading into insignificance.

He carries me through the dense underbrush, his steps sure and purposeful. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and the distant murmur of the river. His grip tightens, his fingers digging into my hips, as if he’s afraid I might disappear.

“I’ve wanted this again since the second I felt you the first time,” he growls against my lips, his voice rough with desire.

I shiver, excitement coursing through me. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough.” He stops, the cool night air prickling my skin. We’re at the riverbank, the water glistening under the moonlight. He sets me down gently, his hands lingering on my waist.

“Javan,” I whisper, my heart pounding. “What are you doing?”

“Showing you what you’ve been asking for,” he replies, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. “You want power, freedom. This is part of it.”

He pulls me closer, his hands roaming my body with a possessive hunger. His touch is electrifying, every caress igniting a fire within me. I tilt my head back, exposing my neck to him, and he takes the invitation, his lips trailing down my throat.

“You’re mine,” he says, his breath hot against my skin. “And I don’t share.”

His words send a thrill through me, the intensity of his gaze making my knees weak. “Then take me,” I challenge, my voice barely a whisper.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. His mouth claims mine again, his hands exploring every inch of me. I respond eagerly, my own hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders. His touch is both rough and tender, a contradiction that leaves me breathless.

10

JAVAN

Itrail my lips along the curve of her neck, tasting the salt of her sweat mingled with the copper of her blood. My tongue flicks over the welts and gashes left by the dark elves' cruelty, each lick a silent promise of vengeance. I can feel her pulse quicken under my touch, a frantic beat against the predator's caress.

"Javan," she whispers, her voice a tremor that might be fear or anticipation. It matters little; I know the fire that burns within her, the desperate need for transformation that courses through her veins.

My hands roam her body, mapping the terrain of her suffering, the valleys and peaks of her resilience. I find the core of her, hot and slick with desire, and I tease her there, circling the sensitive bud with agonizing slowness. She writhes beneath me, a creature caught between agony and ecstasy, and I relish the power I hold over her.

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