The slack-jawed nobles watched Selene with hungry gazes, cocks straining against their finery, pussies dampening beneath gowns.
Elira's muscular frame tensed, her blackened armor accentuating her tall, scarred build, her short silver hair framing a face hardened by conquest.
"I came," she growled, her voice low and brutal, "to remind you that while you're getting tongue-fucked on a throne, women like me are out there gutting boys who were suckling their mothers' tits last week."
Her hand tightened on her sword, her tattooed arm flexing, the infernal script glowing faintly as if echoing her rage.
She stepped forward, the air shivering around her powerful presence, her boots echoing like thunder.
She didn't bother with subtlety, her gaze locking onto Selene, who stood with her sheer white dress clinging to her petite, pale body, her small breasts heaving, her cherry-pink nipples stiff against the gauze.
