Page 5 of Rescued By the Alien Acolyte

“No,” she lies, her voice trembling.

“Liar,” I say, my lips curling into a cruel smile. “Your fear is as palpable as the stench of your sweat.”

“Fuck you,” she snaps, her defiance returning.

“That’s not part of the ritual,” I reply, chuckling. But oh, how I wish it were.

I reach out and touch her, my fingertips trembling slightly as they caress her warm skin. I run them along the sharp line of her jaw, feeling the tension in her muscles as she clenches her teeth. Slowly, I trace a path down her throat, feeling her pulse quicken beneath my touch. Her skin is impossibly soft, like silk under my calloused hands.

As I reach her collarbone, I see the rapid rise and fall of her chest, her breathing shallow and quick. The candlelight flickers, casting shadows across her skin, highlighting every curve and hollow. The air in the chamber feels thick, heavy with the scent of incense and anticipation.

Her skin is smooth and unblemished, save for a large, crescent-shaped scar just above her left clavicle. I wonder about its origin. Anger prickles at my senses. Yet isn’t that what I’mhere to do? I push the intrusive thought away and focus on the feel of her, which sends a surge of arousal through me, a heat that spreads from my core to the tips of my fingers.

With great effort, I force myself to pull away, my hand lingering for a moment before breaking contact. Losing the feel of her is almost painful. I turn toward my table of instruments, the metal tools glinting ominously in the low light. Each step away from her feels like a battle, and my body hungers to return to her warmth.

I pick up the first implement, a slender rod tipped with a wickedly sharp point. It is a tool designed to break the flesh and pierce the soul. I know it well, as it’s my most trusted companion. But a flickering candle catches my attention, and a wicked idea springs into my mind.

I set the sharp rod aside and approach the altar once more, my robes whispering across the floor. The candlelight casts flickering shadows on the walls, making Loelle look even more beautiful. I take a small glass vial of oil and drizzle it over the candle, watching as the flame turns from a flickering yellow to a rich red before bringing the candle over to Loelle.

She watches me warily. Her eyes narrow, but she remains silent.

I lower the candle, letting the hot wax drip onto her exposed skin. She inhales sharply, her body tensing as the pain flares.

I continue to drip the hot wax, enjoying the way her body reacts. Her skin is slick with sweat. As the wax drips down her breasts, I notice her nipples are hard and her skin is flushed. My little flame is enjoying this. But not as much as I am.

I continue further, letting the wax drip onto her abdomen, watching the way her muscles contract and flex. She bites her lip, trying not to cry out.

It is beautiful. She is beautiful.

I move the candle lower still, letting the wax drip onto her pubic mound, watching the way her legs tense and her hips jerk. She cries out, her eyes rolling back in her head as she bucks against the restraints.

“Please, stop,” she whispers. “It’s too much.”

“We’re only getting started,” I say, my voice husky.

She whimpers, her body trembling. I run my fingers along her thigh, teasing her.

“Please,” she begs. “Please.”

“So impatient,” I murmur.

I continue to drip the wax slowly, enjoying the way her body writhes. The way her back arches and her toes curl.

As the last drop of wax falls, I set the candle aside and watch her body tremble. Her skin is slick with sweat and her breath comes in ragged gasps. I can smell her arousal, the musky scent making my cock throb with desire. I have never lain with a female, neither my kind nor human, yet something about Loelle makes me want to claim her. My fangs itch to mark her as my own.

But I cannot. This is too important. She will be our last sacrifice to the sun gods before the Solstice in two days. It cannot be coincidence that she appeared amid the storm. I must make sure she is willing, as our final offering must be pure.

“Tell me, little flame,” I murmur, “What did you do to find yourself here, at my mercy?”

She turns her face away, her lips pressed tightly together.

“It was a simple smuggling mission,” she finally says, her voice quiet. “I just wanted to get it done and be out of the storm.”

“And instead, you found yourself caught by the Nexus’ faithful,” I say, my voice low and rough. “Such are the trials of criminal unbelievers.”

“Go fuck yourself,” she snaps, her eyes blazing.

“Your defiance is futile,” I reply. “The sun gods have judged you and found you wanting. Only the light of our truth can purge the darkness from your soul.”

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