Eirene squirmed, her silver hair whipping as she tried to bat my hands away, but every time she grabbed one wrist I found another opening—tickling the hollow behind her knee when she kicked, the sensitive dip of her collarbone when she arched back.
Laughter burst out of her—high, helpless, completely undignified for an Emanation.
"St—stop! How are you even—! I'm an Emanation! You can't—ahhahaha—!"
Her legs kicked uselessly.
She fell back onto the furs, robe riding up her thighs as she thrashed. Pale skin flushed pink from cheeks to chest. Silver eyes watered with laughter.
The usually cold, untouchable spirit was reduced to a wriggling, giggling mess—hair splayed across the blankets, her firm breasts bouncing with every convulsive breath, nipples faintly outlined against the thin white fabric.
I pinned her wrists above her head with one hand—gentle, but firm enough to keep her from escaping—and attacked her sides with the other.
"Admit it!" I teased. "You're ticklish!"
"N-Never—ahh! You weasel—stop—!"
"Weaasel?!"
She bucked her hips, trying to throw me off.
The motion made her robe slip further—exposing the smooth plane of her stomach, the elegant dip of her navel, the soft swell just below her breasts. Her laughter turned breathless, voice cracking into little squeaks.
I couldn't help it—I stared.
Eirene was beautiful.
Stunning, really.
Long silver lashes framing those focused silver eyes, high cheekbones, full lips parted around helpless giggles.
Her body was perfectly proportioned—moderate breasts rising and falling rapidly, narrow waist flaring into hips that looked made to be gripped.
Just a little bit cute, though. Just a little.
The way her nose scrunched when she laughed, the tiny dimples that appeared at the corners of her mouth—barely there, but undeniable.
By comparison, Sora was hella cute.
But Eirene… she was something else entirely.
I slowed my attack, fingers lingering on her ribs.
"Wh-what?" she gasped, chest heaving. Her cheeks were flushed a deep pink now, eyes glassy from laughter. She stared up at me, silver gaze wide and uncertain.
I realized I'd been staring at her face—blue eyes locked on silver—for too long.
"N… Nothing," I mumbled. "You sure are a beautiful woman. I was just… thinking. Didn't you read it from my mind?"
She huffed, still catching her breath.
"Hmph! Receiving your depraved thoughts—"
"They're not always depraved!"
"—is like hearing a voice from a distance. If I don't tune in, I won't hear you. And if I'm not paying attention, I'll miss things."
I grinned, leaning closer—still pinning her wrists.
"Oooohhh, so you weren't paying attention just now?" I teased. "Why was that? You were distracted by what—my cute face? And shouldn't you be calling me 'Master,' huh?"
Her blush exploded across her face—bright, unmistakable.
"N… Nothing of the sort! You weasel, get off me!"
"Weasel again?!"
I was so shocked—genuine, surprised—that I released her wrists.
She immediately shoved at my chest, trying to push me back, but I barely budged. Until:
"Ahem…"
A deep, throaty sound from the doorway froze us both.
A massive man filled the frame—easily seven feet tall, shoulders broad enough to block most of the light.
His dark skin gleamed under the lantern glow, corded muscles shifting beneath it like coiled ropes. Long emerald earrings dangled from pointed ears, catching the light with every tiny movement.
A thick mane of black hair was braided with obsidian beads and feathers. Around his neck hung a heavy necklace of polished black stones and carved bone; across his chest stretched a wide belt of dark leather studded with silver fangs.
Below that, fur-trimmed pants—black wolf pelt—clung to powerful thighs, ending in heavy boots wrapped with leather straps. A long obsidian dagger hung at his hip, handle wrapped in silver wire.
He looked every inch like the chief of this place, or at least something close.
Beside him stood four dark elf women, including Sora.
All beautiful.
All tall and lithe, silver hair in various lengths, blue eyes sharp and watchful. Three of them were unmistakably cute—soft features, playful smiles, bodies curved in ways that made the short tribal skirts and cropped tops look sinful.
The fourth… was only beautiful. No cute softness. Her face was harder—scar across one cheek, another along her collarbone.
And muscles defined her arms and abdomen. She stared at me like she was deciding whether to cleave me in half.
The chief(?) cleared his throat again—louder.
"Can you knock when you want to enter a room?!" I yelled, jumping off Eirene so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet.
"What?!" he bellowed back, voice like rolling thunder. "The door was not even shut!"
I looked over and discovered;
Ah, he was right.
The wooden door stood wide open.
And my face burned.