How dare he?
But then he's towering before me, and whatever retort I was forming dies in my throat.
He's... he's not just powerful.
He's somethingelse—something that exists in categories I don't have names for, something that makes every other supernatural creature I've encountered seem like pale imitations of true monstrosity.
I take in his figure with dawning realization. The wings. The tail. The incantations that pulse with magic older than the Academy itself. The particular flavor of power that surrounds him like cologne—dark and seductive and carrying undertones of something I almost recognize.
Hints of Fae.
But not pure Fae—tainted somehow, mixed with something else, something darker that has corrupted the characteristic shimmer into something more sinister.
"You're... a hybrid?"
The declaration emerges breathless, my consciousness wavering even as understanding begins to click into place.
His frown is immediate and unexpected—displeasure crossing perfect features as if I've said something offensive by observing the obvious. But before he can respond, my form wavers.
The disconnection between soul and body strengthens, reality trying to pull me back while this strange realm tries to keep me present. I flicker like a flame in wind, existencebecoming uncertain in ways that should be terrifying but mostly feel exhausting.
His tail moves before I can drift further.
The appendage wraps around my translucent form with possessive strength, coiling once, twice, three times until I'm secured against dissolution. The contact is shockingly solid—his magic apparently capable of interacting with my spirit-form in ways physical matter can't.
He lifts me off the ground.
If you can call it ground,I think distantly. The surface beneath us is more suggestion than substance, existing because something has to but carrying no other properties that make it recognizable as floor.
His tail tightens, pulling me closer until I'm inches from his face. I grit my teeth against the pressure—not painful but confining, making my already-limited mobility even more restricted.
"This bond makes this extremely unfulfilling."
The words carry frustration that seems genuine, though I can't imagine what frustrates him about holding a half-conscious spirit-form in his tail.
"What bond?" I demand, confusion bleeding through my voice. "Who the hellareyou?"
His pout is theatrical, exaggerated, the expression of someone who has been asked to explain themselves and finds the request beneath their dignity.
"Tell me," I insist when he remains silent. "Or I'll bite you to find out!"
The threat emerges before I can consider whether it's possible in this realm, vampire instincts overriding common sense with the particular confidence of someone who has never met a problem that couldn't be solved by applying teeth.
He rolls those impossible eyes.
"Can't bite in this realm," he informs me with the particular patience reserved for explaining obvious things to slow children.
"Try me!"
The challenge hangs between us, and something shifts in his expression. The theatrical annoyance fades, replaced by something that might be genuine amusement—or genuine challenge—or both combined into whatever emotion hybrid-Fae-monsters experience.
His grin is devastating.
And then his tailshifts.
The end transforms, scales reorganizing themselves into a shape that makes heat flood my translucent cheeks despite my current state of partial existence. The new configuration is unmistakably phallic—thick and ridged and positioned precisely at my eye level as if he's making some kind of point.
I stare at it.
