No matter, I’ll remove their heads from their bodies before they realize their mistake. I begin to move towards the only thing I can sense, a wonderful, slightly sweet scent, bathed in the endorphins of fear. My eyes have not yet adjusted to being open again, but I could find my prey blindfolded.
A horrible pop ricochets through my head moments before I feel a burning sensation in my thigh.What in the Gods name is that?! That hurts.I drop down to one knee before I can stop myself, the pain and smoky scent of a firearm momentarily overpowering everything else. I’ve been shot before, but this is far more powerful than I’ve faced. This creature must have heard tales of me and come prepared for a fight.
“Ha! Got you, fucker. The police are on their way so you better just stay down until they get here or I will shoot you again.”Brave words for someone shaking and nearly pissing themselves in fear— Did she say police?Why would someone summon me just to call upon the Watchmen? Something is not right here.
A flicking noise followed by overwhelming light surrounds me as I reel from the agony in my leg. I look down to find the painful area pulsing blood in time with my heart. Growling, I quickly dig my claws into the gaping wound, finding the tiny piece of metal and tossing it aside to the floor.
Once the offending chunk of ammunition has been removed and my healing process begins, I attempt to stand to my full height. Though before I can do so, I’m stopped by the short ceiling. I have to slightly duck so as to not get my antlers stuck in the material. Blinking my eyes rapidly to get my bearings, I hear a gasp.
“Oh, Jesus Christ.” The terrified woman mutters. Finally, my eyes adjust, and I spot my next meal. It’s rare for a woman to be responsible for sacrificing a virgin. A shame, too, because she is quite lovely. Big blue eyes filled with tears, long hair the darkest shade of red, and the kind of luscious curves to write sonnets about.
Though her clothing is very strange and wildly inappropriate. Even brothel women wouldn’t allow themselves to be seen in such a state of undress in civilized society. She’s clothed in some form of silky pants that do not even come close to covering her knees and a matching top, barely held up by tiny little strings. They look more akin to underthings than to actual clothing, baring every inch of her smooth, pale pink flesh.
But her weaponry is what I find most concerning. How could something so small cause such pain? And so quickly? The firearms I remember took minutes to prepare and could hardly be carried by someone so tiny. Dropping her weapon, she lifts her hands to cover her mouth, holding back a scream. Her eyes meet mine, and the terror within them is so vibrant I can’t stop myself from grinning.
Faster than she can react, I launch at her, slamming us against the wall, wrapping a black-clawed hand around her throat, ready to tear it out. Her blood dripping down my hands will be the sweetest warmth, the ripping of her flesh the most exquisite symphony, and her tainted soul—Why am I not killing her?—She should be dead by now. I’m using all of my strength to try to tear at her neck—WHY IS SHE NOT DYING?I flex my claws around her throat, trying to ignore her desperate pleas and sobs.
“Why are you not dying?”
A small sniffle, then she croaks, “What?”
“You are not dying. Why?”
“I mean… well, you’re not squeezing very hard.” I try with every fiber of my being to squeeze the life out of this tiny, wicked human but cannot. “Please don’t kill me,” she begs as I watch the tears stream down her face. She smells intoxicating. Those who summon me never smell this delightful.
“What witchcraft is this? I should be removing your spinal cord from your body right now.” She sobs again,loudly.“Stop crying, witch. This is your penance for summoning me.” I lean down to get a better look at her face.
“What?! No! I didn’t… it wasn’t real. I didn’t mean to,” then quietly, more to herself than me, “This cannot be real.” Even with fat tears and mucus streaming down her face, she’s a vision. But she summoned me with the blood of a virgin, and I will not allow her beauty to deter me. The most wicked are often the most enchanting.
“Oh, goodness me, this is all just a big misunderstanding then,” I run a free claw across her cheek, collecting a tear as she shudders. “You did notmeanto utter my summoning incantation, and you did notmeanto murder a virgin, my mistake.” The derision in my voice pales her further.
“Murder?I didn’t kill anyone! I was just minding my business, doing my job, ya know— reading a book, when suddenly I hear a loud-ass-fucking sound. I thought I was getting fucking robbed! So I grabbed my gun, called the cops and ran down here! The only person— fuck, or uhhh being I’ve hurt was you.” She releases a laugh bordering on unhinged, “And myself, but that was just a paper cut, so nothing to worry about there.I’mnot the one holding five huge knife-likethingsat someone’s throat.” She looks down pointedly to where my hand cradles her neck, “There’s no one else here! No one, I swear.”
A papercut? She couldn’t possibly have-“Are you a virgin?”
“What?” she stammers. “That’s a little personal. Areyoua virgin?”
“No,” I barely hold back my amusement.
“Really? Wow, do you fuck humans or just like other monster people? Cuz it seems like it might get pretty complicated. You’reverylarge, do you know that? And it’s probably proportionate,” she gestures toward my lower region, where my member is safely concealed in the tattered remains of my pants. “So you couldn’t really make the beast with two backs with someone too much smaller than you are, just— ya know, logistically.” I slam my palm over her mouth, unable to listen to another vulgar word. That alone would have her whipped were anyone else to witness it. Not to mention her clothing.
Despite it all, she smells so heavenly I can’t stop myself from burying my nose in the crook of her neck and inhaling. The sweet aroma of fear, sweat, and what must be her washing oils have me dizzy with a hunger of a different nature than I’m accustomed to with my summoners. My palm almost completely covers her face, making her seem so small and delicate, and I nearly groan at the sight before me.
I realize I’m also covering her nose and instinctively remove my hand from her face, instead running it down her arm, then tracing it down the outside of her thigh, reveling in every inch of exposed skin.She’s so soft, so warm.
At my exploration, her sobs return in full force, but I can’t make myself pull back yet, so I squeeze her throat enough to quiet her and run the tip of my tongue along the juncture of her neck and shoulder, just for a taste of her sweet perspiration. She whimpers in fear and grips my forearm with her tiny hands. Though she isn’t pushing me away, just holding onto me as if to ground herself.
“Hush,” I say against her ear. She called me a monster. She truly hasn’t the faintest idea what manner of death is staring her in the face. I lean back enough to look at her face, but she’s squeezing her eyes closed with her head leaning against the wall. “I am not amonster person. I am born of Vankhala. A demon, if you will.”
I loosen my hold enough to allow her full breath, and as she takes a heaving inhalation, my eyes wander of their own volition to her barely concealed breasts.
Instantly, I release her and take a step back. I cannot be having those kinds of thoughts for someone who could still very well be responsible for witchcraft and murder. Although by the looks of it, she seems to believe she’s about to be the sacrifice. If my body would cease its betrayal, she likely would be. A sacrificial little offering at my altar. The thought causes me to nearly shudder in pleasure. She would be so pretty strung up for me, begging for mercy.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I ask, “What is your name, Little Dove?”
She scoffs as if I am the one in offensive attire and speaking with such vulgarity, “I go by Bel.”
“But it is not your name?” All I asked for was a name, and instead, she was giving me an attitude. “Will you not just tell me your name?”
