He trailed his fingers down, along the curve of her cheekbone to her lips—soft, plump lips that had once tried to command him with a smile. Now they trembled under his touch.
Then down her jawline, smooth and elegant, before he rested his palm at the side of her neck. Her pulse beat erratically beneath his touch.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low and cold, each word heavy with disdain.
"Beautiful… but still just a servant."
He tilted his head slightly, studying her like one might inspect a delicate gem—valuable, yes, but not irreplaceable.
"A god's beauty should be matched with power, not whored out like a common enchantress."
The words were poison, stabbing deep into her pride. Her eyes widened in fury—but she still couldn't move.
"You once called me arrogant, Succubus Queen," he whispered, leaning slightly closer, the warmth of his breath caressing her lips. "But I ask you... who's the one trembling now?"
