"I said my name's Kira," I grumble.
All I get is grunt in response.
It's like everything possible has been taken away and I have to push back that surging impulse to complain. Then argue with myself when I want to complain about not being able to fucking complain.
This seems like a good moment for it, if there ever was one.
A sudden draft of wind blows, wafting the creature's distinct scent into my nose and I can neither help the shiver that runs down my back, nor the liquid trail of arousal I know is trailing down my legs, hidden by the thin cloth material of the black suit.
I sneak a look over at it... him and barely have time to regain my composure as Drasuk gives me a curious stare.
There is a rumble building in his chest and the vibration sends spritzes of arousal flowing down my legs at a quicker pace.
Damnable slimes and their body tinkering.
14
Drasuk
I am watching Kira closely, fascinated by the sudden shift in her scent. It's richer, more intoxicating, almost overwhelming.
I've never encountered anything like it before.
I don't know how to interpret her expression, but I think I might know what her scent means.
"Why do you suddenly smell better than before?" I rumble.
Her eyes widen, and a dark flush spreads across her brown cheeks. "What do you mean, smell better?" she retorts, her voice edged with annoyance.
She's delightful when she's angry. Tiny and fierce like a cornered animal. I find my spikes twitching despite the situation.
I like how expressive her face coloring and her thick, brown-red lips are. Judging by how much they move, the patches of blackfur above her pink eyes must also communicate her feelings. Her delicate nostrils flare out just like a drak's would when angered, except on a much smaller scale.
So far, I've only seen anger, but I am curious to know what ways her features will shift with other emotions. Such delicate, expressive features that make me want to just keep looking.
"You're too small to not make the perfect pet," I say, unable to resist teasing her.
The anger that flares in her eyes is amusing, her reaction just as entertaining as I had hoped.
"I am not a pet" she snaps, her voice rising. "I'm a person. I'm a fornicating head of a container... damn the thing, you insipid, overgrown..."
I don't understand any of the words that flow out after that.
Eventually she cuts herself off, before looking away with a huff. Her indignation is palpable, and I can't help but be delighted by it.
"Is it because you want to be more than a pet?" I ask, my tone dripping with mock curiosity.
The idea intrigues me more than I'd ever admit, especially to this tiny human with her fierce spirit.
She stares at me, her anger boiling over. "I don't want to be anything to you," she grits out. "I'm my own person, damn the thing. I'mhuman. Not an animal."
That same intoxicating smell of hers waxes stronger, tainting the walls of my nostrils and nuzzling the back of my throat.
I vaguely acknowledge the fact that I have taken a few steps closer to her.
I chuckle, the sound deep and rumbling. "Of course you would like to elevate your status, but you will have to convince me. I'm not sure I see the appeal," I say, leaning closer to her.
Her scent intensifies, and I find it increasingly difficult to maintain my composure.
