"I'll go… if you want me to," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of defiance and desire. Her violet eyes, wide and earnest, fixed on the impassive mask. A faint tremor ran through her lips, betraying the carefully constructed calm.
He chuckled behind the mask, the sound low and amused, carrying a weight that made her pulse quicken, a physical thrum against her ribs. It was a sound devoid of true mirth, laced instead with a predatory satisfaction.
"Please… don't hold back," she murmured, her eyes searching his, the challenge in her voice daring him to respond, to reveal himself. She tilted her chin up, a subtle gesture of bravado that belied the tremor in her body.
A slow, knowing smile spread across his visible lips, a cruel curve that didn't reach his unseen eyes. In that moment, every unspoken word, every glance, every brush of proximity became a game of power and longing, a charged battlefield where emotions warred with instinct.
Aurelia leaned in first.
Her lips found the side of his neck—moving slow and deliberate—each kiss sinking into his skin like a confession she'd been holding back for far too long. Her breath ghosted over his skin, raising a subtle gooseflesh she could feel beneath her lips. A faint flush bloomed on her own cheeks with the boldness of her actions.
Tenebrarum didn't move. He didn't have to. The tension rolling off him was enough to pin her exactly where he wanted her, a silent, magnetic force. His stillness was a statement of power, of absolute control.
Her fingers slipped to his collar, tugging at the clasps of his shirt with trembling urgency. The small, precise movements were a stark contrast to the tempest brewing within her. The fabric loosened under her touch, revealing the hard lines of his chest, the sculpted muscle beneath. She pressed her mouth there next, kissing along the ridges of muscle as though memorizing him with every breath, inhaling the clean, metallic scent of his skin.
Tenebrarum exhaled once—quiet, controlled—but the sound curled around her like smoke, a subtle disruption in the charged air. It was a sound of contained power, of an emotion held fiercely in check.
He watched every movement she made: the way her hair fell forward, framing her flushed face and highlighting the curve of her cheekbones; the way her breath trembled against his skin, visible in the slight rise and fall of her chest; the way she moved without hesitation, offering herself piece by piece, a testament to her desperate, all-consuming desire. His gaze, though masked, felt like a palpable touch, dissecting her every move.
She didn't wait for permission. Her earlier defiance had melted into a desperate need for connection, for oblivion.
She let the last thin fabric fall from her body, her silhouette warmed by the glow of the candles scattered across the chamber. The soft light kissed her skin, highlighting the flush that spread across her chest, down her abdomen, and pooled between her thighs. Her skin felt alive, tingling with a feverish heat.
Tenebrarum's hand hovered at her waist—feeling the heat radiate from her, as if deciding how much he wanted to claim her, how much he intended to consume.
His fingers flexed slightly, inches from her skin, a silent testament to his restraint.
"Flavia," he said, voice low, dark, almost dangerous. "You have no idea what you're asking for." The words were a warning, a challenge, a concession all rolled into one.
But she only lifted her chin, lips still flushed from kissing him, eyes steady on the mask hiding his expression. Her gaze was unwavering, a silent dare.
"I do," she whispered, her lips brushing against the cool metal of his mask as her kisses lowered to his waist then his trousers. Her movements were no longer tentative; they were driven by a potent, primal urge.
She saw the vanadium chain at his waist — the kind humans used to weaken demons.
But why was he wearing it? Why did a creature like Tenebrarum need something meant to restrain his kind? The incongruity flickered in her mind, a fleeting distraction.
Something seemed to bump against her lips, and that took her attention completely.
His cork.
Risen, ready for what she called a real intercourse.
Aurelia looked at him before she zipped it down, her gaze locking with the unseen eyes behind the mask. This is what she wanted—him. Not just the control, not just the power, but the raw, untamed essence of him.
He turned Aurelia immediately, his movement fluid and powerful, pinning her to the bed. The sudden shift in pressure stole her breath, a violent expulsion of air that left her lungs burning. Her face, then her back, were pressed against the cool, slick silk of the sheets, the fabric suddenly feeling abrasive against her sensitive skin. The scent of the candles and something else, something dark and primal emanating from him, filled her nostrils.
He grabbed her legs, pulling them closer, drawing her body taut until there was no space between them, no room for her to breathe or think. Her ankles were drawn up, her knees bent sharply , the position forcing her legs wide, exposed, vulnerable. The tautness of her own skin stretched over her hips and thighs was a testament to the brutal economy of his movement.
Then he went in.
Her entire body trembled at the sheer proximity, the overwhelming force of him pressing into her, pinning her beneath him. His weight was immense, crushing, stealing the air from her lungs.
Her own breath hitched, sharp and quick, a desperate gasp for sustenance that seemed to vanish before it could fill her. She could feel the subtle, radiating heat of his body through the press of his skin in hers, a stark contrast to the cool silk beneath her cheek. Her muscles coiled, a desperate, involuntary tension against his unyielding hold, and the muscles in her thighs screamed with the forced, unnatural angle.
A white, thick release filled her, marking her from within.
The bed groaned under their weight, a low, drawn-out sound.
Crick—Crack...
The sound echoed like a warning, like a secret the walls weren't meant to hear, a testament to the force they exerted.
Her body moved to his silent command, a primal response overriding conscious thought. The bed trembled beneath them, each thrust echoing through the room—a rhythm that felt like a warning, a drumbeat of raw, untamed passion.
Each movement sent shivers through her, a dangerous mix of fear, desire, and exhilaration. Her muscles coiled and uncoiled, her breath catching in ragged gasps.
She gasped, trying to steady herself, heart hammering, every nerve on fire as if the world had narrowed to just the two of them, locked in a storm of power and pleasure. The air around them crackled with the intensity of their connection.
"More," she screamed, her voice raw with emotion as his body pressed against her, each thrust a wave of overwhelming sensation.
Her body trembled, rolling with the force of the moment, an instinctive dance of surrender and need.
Her mouth open wide, gasping as if the air itself had vanished, leaving only the heat, the pounding, and the undeniable pull between them. Her lungs burned with the effort to draw sustenance.
Every touch, every glance, spoke louder than words. Aurelia's body moved instinctively, following him, matching his rhythm in a pull of desire and lust.
She was consumed by the intensity, lost in the storm he stirred inside her, her earlier fear giving way to an all-encompassing need.
His hands pressed against her breasts, holding her close, the heat of their bodies igniting a storm of desire and tension she couldn't resist. His touch was firm, possessive, a constant reminder of his dominance.
Tenebrarum pushed into her, slowly, the initial sensation was an astonishing, searing heat that flooded her vulva.
It was like magic igniting from within, a sudden, overwhelming surge that stole the air from her lungs and tore a screams from her throat.
Her eyes curled shut involuntarily, the world narrowing to the blinding, overwhelming sensation of him entering, of being utterly claimed. Then, with his release, her eyes snapped open, wide and unfocused, the remnants of the searing pleasure still coursing through her.
And then, just as suddenly, he pulled back, leaving her gasping, trembling, and achingly aware of how much she wanted him—and how much power he had over her. The abrupt emptiness was a physical ache.
He flipped her over in one swift motion, her breath catching as the world turned. The momentum was dizzying.
Her hair spilled across the sheets, wild and scattered, her chest pressed firmly into the mattress under the weight of his command. She could barely move—he held her exactly where he wanted her, pinning her with his sheer presence.
She heard the metallic slip of something behind her. Aurelia's pulse jumped, a sudden surge of adrenaline.
He removed the vanadium chain from his waist, the faint clink echoing through the room, then lifted the mask from his face.
She couldn't see anything—not a glimpse of him—her vision buried in the softness of the bed, trapped between his hands and the heat of his presence. The scent of him, now unmasked, filled her senses—something ancient, elemental, and utterly terrifying.
All she wanted was him—every part of him—but the sound of the vanadium chain hitting the floor froze something deep in her.
He shouldn't removed that chain.
Not unless he wants to kill me.
Aurelia's breath caught, her cheek still pressed to the mattress, vision blurred by her own hair. She couldn't see him, but she felt the shift in the air—like the room itself recoiled, like the shadows were pulling back to make space for whatever he was becoming. A primal cold washed over her.
Heat rolled off him in waves, heavier, older, nothing human. The air around him grew palpably colder, then impossibly hotter, an unnatural contradiction.
She swallowed, her voice trembling as she whispered into the sheets,
"Tenebrarum… what are you doing…?"
The bed frame creaked as he leaned over her from behind, his presence larger, darker, eclipsing every thought she could have had. The sheer density of his being was overwhelming.
"You said you wanted more," his voice rumbled—deeper, layered, mesmerizing all at once. "And without this chain… more is exactly what I am."
Her fingers clenched weakly against the bedding. She didn't know if she should beg him to stop or beg him not to. The uncertainty was a new torment.
She wasn't sure she was ready for the full force of him—she wasn't sure anyone could be—but she wanted him anyway. Wanted him enough that the first sharp wave of sensation tore a cry from her.
"E—!"
The sound broke in her throat, raw and startled.
It hurt—more than she expected—an ache that made her vagina's muscles lock and her breath tremble. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever known, a tearing, burning agony that stole her breath.
She gasped, fingers curling tight, eyes squeezing shut, her body tensing against the unfamiliar, terrifying power.
He held her still, but his breathing wasn't steady either. And beneath him… something was changing.
A low, unnatural rumble vibrated through his chest, sliding into her bones. His skin heated, becoming impossibly hot against hers.
The vanadium chain had been the only thing keeping the demon in him quiet. Now it lay useless on the floor.
And he was becoming something she had only heard about in whispered warnings.
His rhythm shifted—slow, deliberate at first, then building with a force that stole the breath from her lungs.
Each movement dragged a sound from her throat, "Ehhhhhh!" a raw, helpless response she couldn't swallow, her body answering him before her mind could form a thought.
She started smiling before she even realized it—he was… incredible.
Painful yet pleasurable. This was the something she loved about him. Maybe good things always come after pain.
And then—
Crack.
The bed legs gave way beneath them. The sudden collapse threw them into a heap. Pillows flew, sheets tangled around them, and Aurelia's breath hitched, half from shock, half from the lingering fire in her body.
He cursed under his breath, his grip on her tightening instinctively as he tried to stabilize them both. Her heart raced, every thump echoing the chaotic rhythm of their tumble.
"You're impossible," he growled, though there was a strange edge of amusement in his voice, a flicker of something other than pure rage.
"I… I'm fine!" she gasped, trying to catch her balance, her violet eyes bright, cheeks flushed.
Even as the bed splintered beneath them, the intensity between them didn't falter.
Every stolen touch, every heated glance, carried the same fire. And in the midst of the chaos, neither of them could look away.
Although her head was still pressed to the bed, her body betrayed her. She moved to his rhythm without thinking, every shiver, every gasp betraying how much she was caught in him.
STUPID. ABSOLUTELY STUPID.
This was the man who she thought had killed her brother. The same man who could destroy anyone she cared about in an instant. And yet… she couldn't stop. Her body burned with the memory of every touch, every motion, every stolen moment of heat between them.
Was she… loving Tenebrarum?
Her mind screamed "No!" even as her body whispered "Yes." Every nerve was alight, every heartbeat a deafening drum, and she didn't know if she wanted to fight it or surrender entirely.
His hands gripped her waist tighter, fingers digging just enough to leave her gasping. Every movement of his was deliberate, commanding, forcing her body to follow, even as her mind screamed contradictions.
"You're mine," he hissed, voice low, rough, vibrating like steel against her ear. "Every inch of you. And if I ever see you with him—my brother—I'll cut your neck off myself."
A shiver ran through her, sharp as ice, yet beneath it something wild stirred. Fear mixed with a heat she didn't want to admit, curling tight in her belly. The warning was cruel, but the power behind it… irresistible.
He stepped closer, the air around him pulsing with danger. His hand left her.
The moment her hand was free, a shock of sensation raced up her arm, as if every nerve suddenly realized it was alive.
"Leave," he commanded, every syllable laced with fire, yet his gaze didn't waver, didn't soften. She could feel the weight of him pressing down, controlling her even as he let her move.
She obeyed, stepping back, heart hammering—but the memory of his touch clung to her skin, igniting a fire she couldn't contain. Fear and desire twisted together in her chest, a knot she didn't want to undo.
And deep down, she realized she wanted him to want her.
But can he?
------------------------
To be continued...