Page 11 of Illicit Bargain

Her voice, laced with pain and defiance, is like a siren's call, pulling me further into the depths of her story. With each word, she peels back another layer of her armor, revealing the raw, pulsing wounds left by the dark elves. I listen, my hands roaming over her body, tracing the curves and dips of her form, exploring the stark contrast between the softness of her skin and the hardened resolve in her voice.

I slip my fingers between her thighs, fascinated by the juxtaposition of her vulnerability and the lethal strength she showed in the barracks. She shudders beneath my touch, her breath hitching as I explore her, every inch of her responding to me. Her arousal is palpable, a heady scent that mingles with the crisp, clean smell of the river water.

"You're different when you kill," I observe, my voice a low rumble against her ear. "There's a fire in your eyes, a wildness that's utterly captivating."

She gasps as I find the sweet spot between her legs, her body arching into my touch. "I... I never knew I could be so... fierce," she admits, her voice quivering with the effort to maintain control.

I chuckle darkly, my fingers slipping into her opening. "There's a darkness in you, Catandria. It's why you're drawn to me, and why I'm drawn to you. We're not so different, you and I."

Her eyes meet mine, a storm of emotions raging within their green depths. "I want to be strong like you," she confesses, her words punctuated by soft moans as I drive her closer to the edge.

"You will be," I promise, my voice firm with conviction. "But first, you must embrace your darkness, let it consume you."

Her body tenses, but she doesn't pull away. Instead, she leans into my touch, allowing herself to unravel in front of me, her inhibitions washing away with the river's current.

"Javan," she whispers, her voice a mere breath, as she teeters on the precipice.

I hold her gaze, my fingers moving with ruthless precision. "Let go, Catandria. Let the darkness take you."

And with a final, shuddering cry, she does. Her body convulses, waves of pleasure cascading over her as she surrenders to the orgasm that rips through her. The sight of her in the throes of ecstasy is intoxicating, a potent reminder of the power that flows through my veins.

"You're mine now, Catandria," I murmur, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "And I will make you the strongest demon this world has ever seen."

9

CATANDRIA

“But why?” I manage to ask between gasps.

“Why what?” he asks, looking confused.

“Why let them capture you when you could’ve escaped anytime? Those chains obviously didn’t keep you.”

He grins, a sharp, dangerous edge to it. “Boredom, little one. Needed some thrill. Thought I'd humor the dark elves. Proved just how weak they are.”

I can’t help but stare at him, wondering about this powerful demon who finds amusement in captivity. “You call that fun?”

“Fun? No. Amusing? Yes.” His fingers trail down my spine, leaving a scorching path. “Their attempts to torture me were pathetic. They can’t comprehend real power.”

“Tell me about your world,” I ask, my fingers tracing the intricate lines of his bone armor. “The demon world.”

“Glacies is a realm of chaos and power,” he begins, his voice taking on a darker, almost nostalgic tone. “Where strength determines everything. I rule a territory there, and it's a wasteland. Demons there are ruthless, constantly battling for dominance.”

I listen, fascinated. “What’s it like being a demon?”

“Power. Endless power,” he says, his eyes locking onto mine. “Strength, speed, and abilities beyond your imagination. You’d never fear the dark elves again.”

“That’s all I want,” I whisper, my hand resting on his chest. “To eliminate them. To be free.”

He laughs softly, a sound that’s more menacing than comforting. “Freedom comes with a price, little one. But you’ve got potential. I can see it in your eyes.”

His fingers lift my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “You’ll become a demon, but you’ll have to prove yourself worthy. Show me you’re not just another broken human.”

“I’ll do anything,” I reply, the desperation in my voice clear even to my own ears. “Just give me the power.”

His eyes narrow, assessing me. “You’ll need to embrace the darkness a little longer. Relish in the chaos. Only then can you truly be free.”

“I’m ready,” I say, though a part of me quakes at the thought. I clear my throat, gathering my courage. "Tell me about the ritual," I say, my voice steadier than I feel.

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