Spirits of the Earth

@visualspice

---

"Fuck you, boy."

The Nobleman's gaze froze in horror as reality crashed down upon him. Theodore was never truly a Noble, never "Theodore." He was a Lola, that woman's son from years past. Everyone believed he was dead—Viktor claimed it so. Yet, there he stood, exposing their collective foolishness, a charade that endured for years. Had Viktor deceived them all? Or was he, too, ignorant of the truth?

"W-What the hell do you-"

"Shut up," the young man standing before him hissed.

Damien Lola confronted the Noble, his eyes resembling ice, cold and unwavering as he glared at his prey. A surge of concentrated anger emanated from his gaze as he advanced, taking one step closer to the Nobleman. In response, the Nobleman retreated, matching each step until the man found himself cornered against the wall, sheer terror etched across his face.

"Dirty scum like you need to be cleaned," Lola scowled as he continued his slow pace toward the man. "Isn't that what you use to say to her?"

"Don't t-take another step closer. I will screa-"

The Nobleman's attempt to speak was abruptly cut short as Lola lunged at him, delivering a punch that connected directly with the Noble's nose.

Thud!

The Nobleman's head collided with the wall, and he slumped to the ground with a whimper. Lola, now kneeling to meet him at eye level, asserted, "No one would hear you even if you did. There's a party downstairs, and the door is locked. No one would even think of coming to this section of the estate. It's just you and me now."

Finally. Justice. He had waited so long for this moment.

He extended his palm, focusing on his elemental mastery of water. In a matter of moments, a block of water materialized, and the young man directed it precisely around the Nobleman's head.

The Nobleman's eyes widened in desperation as he struggled to breathe. Lola prevented any escape attempts, holding him down. With flailing arms and kicking legs, the Nobleman fought for air, steadily losing oxygen. A plea lingered in his eyes, but Lola felt no sympathy as he watched those eyes until the light extinguished.

"I did it," he said under a breath as he got back up to his feet. Gods. That felt good.

Lola regretted landing that punch, but he couldn't resist the satisfaction it brought. He refrained from moving the body for now, uncertain if he even wanted to. The revelation of this unfortunate soul's corpse might serve as a sufficient distraction for him to pursue his next target. Concealing the slight bruising on his knuckles became his immediate concern.

He pulled out his black book of names, flipping through the pages. Missendria Rakkel. He knew she was not involved in the original incident, but reports informed him that she may be aiding those who he was after. He would crush anyone that got in his way.

Returning to the door, he took a moment to ensure the coast was clear. Satisfied, he unlocked the door, stepped into the hallway, and seamlessly rejoined the festivities downstairs.

--- --- ---

"Theodore" wore a beaming smile, his eyes alight with energy, as he navigated through the lively crowd of the Nobleman's party. He exchanged pleasantries with handshakes, nods, and grins, seamlessly returning to the company he had been keeping before his brief detour.

"Ah, Theodore! There you are!" one of the men called out as he approached.

"Yes, I apologize, I had to excuse myself for a bit," he said cheerfully. "All of these spirits were starting to get to me!"

"Theodore," a woman in the group cut in with a chuckle. "You never finished your story. You were telling us about the time you had stolen those Dragon eggs?"

"Ah right!" he chimed in, though the tale was nothing more than another fabrication. The strain of concocting these stories was taking its toll, but the disguise was proving worthwhile. Do Dragons even lay eggs? Surely they do.

The party persisted for another hour or so, until a sudden disruption shattered the festivities.

'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGHH!'

The piercing scream echoed through the halls, sending shivers down the spines of those who heard it. In response, a woman bolted into the open at the top of the staircase, panic and fear etched across her face.

Someone had found the body.

Any other girl might have relished over the chance to play dress up and schmooze with the nobility. This world was filled with glitz and glamor and dreams beyond her comprehension.  Where opulence ran in fountains and even the lighting and plush drapery cost ten times the homes in which she lived.

Frankly, Missendria Rakkel couldn't have given two rat tails about it .  Any of it. This wasn't a party she was meant to be seen- Hell, this wasn't even her world.  She was hardly a woman to oogle and swoon over pearls,  or make goo-goo eyes with the men dripping in velvet.

But here she was- a pretty face tossed into the shark tank and told 'good luck on your swim'.
She had arrived a lot later than was of convenience, her sleek, deep violet dress flowing behind her with a train of sumptuous silver lace. It was a gorgeous piece, no sleeves but cut to her form to accent it in just the right ways, with silver bracelets and pearls looping up her arms and skirts to where they were pinned against her throat by one large glittering, deep blue jewel.

Hell.. her little outfit alone was worth more than the entire street she grew up on. She had been snuck inside the back, so as to avoid being seen and invited in at the door. But no one would make a fuss over an unknown and beautiful woman not having an invitation to the ball- rather, she would be stirring up gossip with her mere presence alone.

She was fine with that. The plan wasn't to interact with many outside of her intended target. But hell- walking in these silver heels had her mood even more soured than when she had to wait over an hour to be dressed! She supposed she should be relieved she survived this long.. and that her latest job had her outside of the slums.

But why put her here? She couldn't help but feel as if she stood out like a sore thumb. Truthfully, she fit in like any other bell here. She just hoped she'd be able to find this Theordore What's his face lordling and just see what she could gather. She just hoped he wasn't gay. It would make her tactics a lot more awkward if she had to deal with that kind of wrench. Hell.. the more she considered what little Intel she had.. the man likely was.

She passed a mirror and found herself pausing, startled by her own reflection. Was that really her? Her hair was tamed into rivulets and curls that fell into a cascading layer of dirty gold along the contrast of her deep, twilight colored gown- in which who's colors choice amplified the bold violet color of her eyes.

She snorted softly.
"Atleast if I were a man I'd find me ravishing."

Silly, yes, and she shook her head, long silver earrings tinkling in their layers of gemstones and filigree. Now was not the time to give herself an ego boost- but hell.. atleast if she somehow died on this mission she'd die looking like a bomb shell.

She had been making her way towards the music when she stepped out and almost completely into another man. She apologized hastily before the two parted ways. Then she cursed herself for not catching their name. What if he had been her mark? The man she was supposed to get Intel on?

She took a mental picture of him as best she could- then moved towards the grandstaircase to join the party.

Entering the party this way was a huge mistake, for as she began to descend the stairs- everyone's eyes were on her.

Oh kia's breasts, - what had she gotten herself into. And as she was making her way off the staircase- she almost ran into another man, who seemed to be in much haste to get up those stairs. She had managed to catch herself before she fell over a clumsy step of her heels, and the man who helped her chastised the man who nearly bumped her from the stairs.

And thats when she realized who her mark was. It was him. Mister had to rush up the staircase Theordore . She made a mental note to go after him, but not before making polite small talk. She eventually got some information about her mark before she was able to return to the top floor again and began to wonder just where he disappeared off too.

"Probably is gay," She mused quietly to herself. She had almost ran into two men. They probably plotted somewhere quiet to go have a rut or something. Not that she cared. She cared enough that it was her job, so simply tucked more of that away for later.

Then she noticed a room at the end of the floor she had yet to explore- and as she crept inside- the door creaked eerily in the dark and quiet of the room.

Huh.. she supposed no one was here either. She was just about to turn and go when she nearly tripped over a body on the floor. She barely managed to catch herself against the unlit hearth and scrambled back into a corner, away from the body as if it might spring to life and attack her.

But.. as she crept closer to inspect...
The man was as dead as a door nail.
And then she heard it...
Footsteps.
Someone was coming.

Swearing, she pressed herself into a shadowed alcove of the room and held her breath. She couldn't see who had entered but she prayed they hadn't seen her.. nor the body.  Hopefully they would just keep passing through...


Then she heard the woman scream.

Shit.

The moments leading up to the reveal were painfully dull. His noble persona, "Theodore," effortlessly navigated the art of entertaining others, indulging in sophisticated conversations, and skillfully playing the high nobility game, all while maintaining an air of arrogance.

It was disgusting.

The individuals attending this ball were oblivious to the realities of the other half—their struggles, hardships, and the daily grind required to make ends meet. While Lola encountered some nobles who weren't entirely reprehensible, he found it challenging to refrain from passing judgment on the entire class. To him, their lives seemed to be a melancholic existence, void of any genuine substance or value.

That's why the vibrant young woman he passed in the purple dress lingered in his thoughts. The genuine smile he offered her took him by surprise, as it felt more authentic than the ones he typically mustered. Witnessing that expression on her face stirred a sense of familiarity within him. He recognized that look only too well—it was a face he himself had worn countless times before.

She didn't belong here. Whether a noble disillusioned with her privileged life or concealing herself with an ulterior motive—he couldn't discern. Truth be told, he didn't really care. He wanted to strike up a conversation with her out of pure curiosity, but that time had passed. The party was interrupted by the piercing scream, the sudden tension in the air, and the news of the body found upstairs.

---

Lord William was dead, and everyone in attendance now knew about it. There were gasps and murmurs, the estate stunk of fear and legs were frozen to the ground with the sudden news. And Lola fucking relished it. Still, he best keep up his act, he thought, there was still work to do.

His eyes widened in a feigned display of shock, his breaths deliberately ragged and harsh. Trembling hands hung at his sides as he stared, or rather pretended to stare, in horror at the top of the staircase. In a hushed whisper, he questioned aloud, "Who could have done this?" directing the inquiry mainly to those few individuals he had been in close proximity with during the event.

Yeah, that should be enough.

"No one leaves until we've conducted a full investigation," declared one of the guards, his stance firm, as he and another positioned themselves resolutely in front of the front door.

Protests erupted immediately, and a nervous shuffling of feet resonated through the room. "I've been here the whole time," asserted one or more individuals. Another voice cried out, "I would never do such a thing!" The air filled with a chorus of pleas, including desperate appeals like "I just want to go home!"

"Have you searched the room thoroughly?" inquired one of the guests, though their question struggled to rise above the murmur of the crowded estate.

Lola's heart raced in delight as panic and chaos quickly overtook the room, concealing his bruised knuckles in his pocket. He need only wait for his next opportunity.

Everyone was alerted now. She had to think quickly before she herself was caught at the scene of the crime. In all honesty, it'd be easier just to play dead- but she shook off those foolish thoughts as she made her way towards an open window in the back of the room.

The shudders were only open a portion of the way so she frantically threw them open the rest, the night air hitting her with a startling chill. She grit her teeth against the night winds and peered out to see...

..and be reminded she was up on the second floor. She cursed. But when she heard a group of people approach, she wad quick to remove her damn shoes before all but throwing herself out the window.


Like a spider, she clung to the side of the building, one shoe in mouth, the other tucked down the front of her dress between her cleavage. 

She couldn't believe she was doing this. But what other choice did she have? She was making her way, careful and slow, along the lip of the building, when she heard voices mention the window.

Damn it.

Couldn't a girl catch a break? So she did what any girl on her situation would do..
She pressed herself Bodily into a vine infested alcove and hoped to the God's names no one could see her there in the dark.

It was unfortunate that the woman who had caught his interest earlier was the one who had so considerably set herself up to take the fall. Well, regardless. He had work to attend to, and some situations were beyond his control. At least, that's what he told himself.

Lola existed in a moral gray area. He never desired to directly harm innocent individuals, but if he had to compromise their well-being for personal gain, he wouldn't hesitate. Nothing would impede his work. Nothing.

---

Several guards and other partygoers filed into the room, among them "Theodore." His gaze swept across the area, and he observed the window curtain swaying in the breeze. "I will check the window," he declared.

Peeking his head outside, he spotted her. She was skillfully concealed, and those with less keen awareness might have overlooked her. In the shadows, her silhouette was unmistakable—the hair, the dress, the curves. Yes, that was undoubtedly the woman from before.

He flashed her a small, sly smile before shouting, "I found someone!"

She could not believe her luck. Not only did someone poke their head outside and looked straight at her... he had the audacity to smile like a damn cat in the cream before bellowing her whereabouts.

She wanted to throw her damn heeled shoe at his head- but what good would it do? She wasn't exactly in the most innocent of locations after a damn murder, that was for sure.

And just when she thought things couldn't have gotten any worse- she felt the vines begin to tear beneath her white knuckled fingers. And in a yelp, she began to fall down along the trellis. 

Lola deftly exploited the all-too-amusing situation to his advantage. As the crowd, including vigilant guards, began to gather, he turned to one of them, locking eyes with calculated intensity. "Doesn't she appear guilty?" he murmured, his voice a subtle tool of influence as his eyes flashed with "influence." The guard's demeanor shifted abruptly, from frantic pursuit to an air of resolute certainty. "She's attempting to escape!" he proclaimed, swiftly climbing out in pursuit.

The room erupted into chaos once more.

Damien melted into the shadows, softly uttering what seemed like a spell under his breath—an imperceptible incantation amid the uproar. In a matter of moments, one man seamlessly blended back into the throng, while another discreetly slipped out the door.

With calculated precision, Damien Lola descended the stairs during the distraction, strategically positioning himself to intercept the woman outside. Meanwhile, a duplicate Lola remained, providing a convincing alibi during the unfolding event.

She stopped falling, bare feet having somehow found purchase on an ornamental piece of jutting stone from the building. Her hands, twisting into a nesting mess of vines, which thank Kia's name, jerked to a stop as they ceased ripping under her knuckles. 

But she winced as she felt the blood seeping from fresh wounds on her hands, and blinked back tears as she tried to figure out just what the hell happened. 

Thankfully, she was still somehow alive.

She was catching her breath as she recalled to commotion about, then dared to peek fingers at the ground to see how far she'd fell.

She was maybe two of her whole heights Wirth away from having possibly fallen to her death, and her heart hammered inside her ears as a heat of fear took hold of her body.

How has this task gotten so off course!?

Then something slipped- and plummeted to the ground.  Her heart sank, blood going icy, befire she realized it was just one of her damn silver heeled shoes. 

Amidst the escalating chaos within, Damien found his route to the outside growing more opportune. Stepping into the open air, a gust of cold wind greeted him.

Surveying the surroundings, his eyes combed the area for the elusive woman. Odd, he mused, she should have dropped by now. He half-anticipated finding her sprawled on the grass from an unfortunate stumble. "Now, where did you—"

Thunk!

Lola winced, a sudden pang of pain gripping his head, his guard momentarily lowered before he pinpointed the source. A lone shoe. He looked up to find the woman.

"Really?" he said, irritation lacing his voice as he addressed her. "A fucking shoe?"

She felt her body tremble as she fiercely held on for dear life. She had managed not to plummet to her death..but she still wasn't close enough to the ground to ignore potential injury.

Gods.. what was she going to do now?

The she heard it.. was that a voice down below?
She turned to see who it was, but the action must've been too much for the already strained vines as she heard a section snap and she lost her grip, barely managing to hold onto a closer section of the vine covered trellis- as the other shoe fell out from where it had been perched between her cleavage. 

Out of his usual character, Lola diverted his attention for a split second, sighing and massaging his temples.

Thunk!

"Ouch!" he exclaimed, sensing yet another pulsating ache on his head. "Seriously, another shoe?"

He gritted his teeth in irritation, glancing up with a determined squint. "Why don't you come down here?" he suggested. "I promise I'll catch you."

He had no intention of catching her, but he needed a quick exit strategy to spare himself from more embarrassment and expedite this mission.

After a long moment of calming herself down, well.. calming herself enough to register what the voice said- she couldn't help but cut back -

"Are you kidding me? We would only both get hurt if you tried!"

Although she supposed she should be thankful he was offering help- she wasn't sure there was any ideal solutions to her precarious situation. 

She tried to look around for any other options...
She eyed the trellis- it ended in a garden bed of twisting vines.  Maybe she could attempt to climb down...

But her luck had run out. Between her precarious position and her weight held back by the vines...
She finally lost her footing and the vines split as she let out a scream and fell towards the courtyard.

Initially, he had no intention of catching her. Yet, the unexpected rapidity of her descent, coupled with gravity mocking his reflexes, prompted a sudden change of heart. In a desperate eleventh-hour decision, he thrust his arms outward in a futile attempt to thwart her collision course, but it was an exercise in futility.

His neck jolted backward, and the force sent his entire body tumbling as the woman crashed into him, spiraling them both into the grass.

As if scripted for added chaos, the symphony of footsteps echoed through the estate's door, rapidly advancing in their direction.

The pair landed into a painful pile of bruises and limbs. Somehow, her dress became entangled around the man's arm.. throat.. leg!? She couldn't tell, she just felt rhe fabric rip when she attempted to remove herself from him- and likely was giving him more a show than a 'lady' of he'd standing ought to give. And as she attempted another way she let out a cry as her long blonde hair was stuck to something.  She couldn't even tell if it was something of his or hers.

"Ouch," he grunted softly as he hit the ground.

This was far from his meticulously laid-out plan. Every move he intended to make to frame this woman was being unintentionally thwarted by the absurdity of the situation. And now, she was sprawled on top of him, their bodies tangled together like some scene out of a romantic farce. He let out a frustrated sigh.

To make matters worse, he hadn't even had a moment to collect himself and calculate his next move before one of the guards loomed over them on the soil.

"Lord Theodore!" the guard exclaimed, his breath heavy with the chase. "Is this the culprit?!"

He paused, glancing between the tangled duo and the house.

"Wait," he began, confusion and suspicion lacing his voice. "I just saw you upstairs. How did you get down here so fa—"

"You're confused," Lola interjected, locking eyes with the guard. A subtle flicker danced across his pupils. "I was never upstairs. I came down here to pursue the potential culprit, just ahead of you. You remember."

The guard blinked slowly, tension and suspicion melting away to a matter-of-fact resolution. "I'm confused," he echoed, turning to Damien. "You were never upstairs. You pursued the culprit. I remember now."

It was a temporary fix, but he needed to act swiftly to regain control.

Wait.

Something soft pressed against him. His face flushed with embarrassed heat.

She stiffened the moment she heard a gaggle of people approach. Then her face went red as she realized her position over the man..


Wait.. did someone just call this man...

Quick thinking had her throwing herself more dramatically at her rescuer. 

"Oh, Lord Theodore!" She went on. "Thank you for rescuing me from that rapscallion! I was so afraid he'd have killed me next!"

If he didn't have an eyeful before, she was all but thrusting herself into his face, arms around him like a gracious vixen. She could only pray he didn't try to turn the situation around on her.

Not now.. when she was literally ontop of her mark. 

"Theodore's" face deepened in shades of red, a feigned warmth from the woman enveloping him in insincere gratitude. Yet, he saw an opportunity in this moment.

"Leonard," he spoke directly to the guard, "this is... a friend of sorts."

Choosing an expression of bashfulness, his eyes conveyed a studied endearment toward the woman. Damien began to distance himself from her, prompting Leonard to caution them about the unsafe circumstances, how this "wasn't the time nor the place," and their lingering suspicion as potential suspects.

Once back on his feet, Lola continued the charade, intertwining their fingers as they walked back toward the house.

"You are quite the woman," he whispered to her, a newfound calm in his voice. "You're also a bad actor. Who exactly are you?"

Oh thank God he played along. She really didn't want to attempt to throw her mark under the carriage. That would make getting his information a lot more difficult. 

Somehow she ended up on his arm, but it was all a blur after the pair got untangled (or perhaps she just didn't want to recall that embarrassment. ) Either way, as the pair walked, she used a free hand to adjust her hair, dress and .. 

"Oh," she stopped suddenly.  "My shoes ." And moved to conveniently tug away from him do as to pretend not to hear his statement. 

"Ah, right you are," he responded, adjusting his weight in sync with her subtle movements. "I'll join you."

Aware of her intentions, he couldn't afford to let his guard down. There was something off about her that demanded his attention. He couldn't risk diverting his eyes from her, now entangled in a cover story of two young lovers surreptitiously navigating the estate.

She wished she could just throw the damned shoes away.  They weren't exactly practical to walk about in, however, it was apart of the attire.. no, the whole set up.  She had to look and act the part.

And of course her 'rescuer' continued to latch on. She wasn't sure if that was intentional or not. She suppose d it fit for the image.

"You're too kind. I honestly feel almost naked walking around this place in my bare feet  "

Nevermind the fact she had just been climbing thw building that way.

Which brought up an interesting point...
He didn't outright throw her to the wolves.  Was that genuine or was there an ulterior motive here?

"Well, we certainly can't have that," he swiftly replied, adopting a tone of feigned amusement and lover's longing. "But let's hurry. As the good man said, it's unsafe for us to linger here alone."

With the estate now at a distance, he sensed the guard's scrutinizing gaze on his back, fueling a subtle anger within him.

"Ah, here they are."

Bending to retrieve the woman's shoes, he whispered in her ear during the act.

"I can bring this entire estate down on you with a single word," he warned sharply. "I ask you once again. Who are you?"

She cut him a look before forcing a laugh and yanking her shoes from  his hands.
She fluttered her eyes prettily. 

"Apparently your love interest ," She said through  her teeth, smiling falsely. "But I suppose it's rude of me not to introduce myself."

But instead of doing just that, she took a seat on a nearby bench and began to relace her shoes.

Examining her, he observed the evident discomfort she displayed while reinserting her shoes, recognizing her unease in the grandeur of the party. Despite not genuinely belonging to nobility, he had engaged in the charade for too long, granting him the ability to discern between an act and authenticity.

"You walk like shit in those shoes," he said quietly, eyes still trained on the woman. "Don't be so tense. You'll give yourself away."

She cut him a sharp looking, being certain her back was towards the guards. Was he.. trying to help her? She looked him up and down before huffing.

"They're new," She told him flatly. She fussed at her hair and came to realize one of the earrings were missing... and to realize the glitzy thing was stuck against the collar of his jacket. She must not have realized she had been hooked onto him earlier.

So she simply stood up and leaned in towards him, plucking the earring off and moving to clip it back onto her ear.

"You know it's hard not to be so tense, love, when you're criticizing my every step."

A genuine smile graced his lips at her response, and though his eyes remained fixed on her, he felt his guard subtly lower.

This woman posed no threat.

That was the growing belief. While he would keep a watchful eye on her throughout the evening, it seemed she wasn't worth further investigation, at least for now. Whether she remained unaware of his attempt to turn the guards on her or had chosen to forgive, he had more pressing matters. There were additional targets at the party, and despite the challenges isolating a target in a panicked and crowded gathering, he had one more kill in mind before vanishing into obscurity.

"See you inside, my love," he abruptly stated to her, perhaps catching her off guard.

Pausing by the guard on his way back in, he made a request, "Keep an eye on my love, would you? She needs a moment to compose herself. You know how these women are."

Wait.

What.

Just.

Happened?

Missendria blinked, the man so casually waving her off towards a set of well dressed guards. They too, seemed a bit taken back by the request and before the snake could get away, he'd find the blonde woman latched around his arm again. She pouted and bat her lashes at him, pressing herself up against him- warm, soft and close.

"Must you leave me, darling? After such an affair? Why I'm not sure I should be alone after such a terrible incident.  Couldn't.. Couldn't you just escort me to the fainting couches? I would feel much more relieved if you were the one to guide me.nit that these men can not handle it.. it's.. for my own peace of mind."

Though sweet her voice came out, those deep violet eyes were tart. 

Gods' sake.

"Certainly, my dear," he responded, his tone innocent, but his eyes and posture betrayed a stern demeanor. Temporarily, he allowed the foolish woman to lean against him, her warmth tempting enough to sway any other man into desire and temptation. As he had assessed earlier, she posed no real threat, but she was clearly scheming something.

Oh well, no harm in indulging in some play until he could execute his next move.

Back within the estate, the "party" remained chaotic. The guards tightly controlled the guests, with tears, confusion, and frustration evident on their faces, creating an overall atmosphere of unease and fear.

Then, he spotted him—Edric Eamon. Another target, standing amidst the crowd with an air of irritation. Damien could recognize the scar above his eye and that damned smug expression from anywhere.

For a fleeting moment, Damien's attention wavered from the woman to the man across the hall, anger simmering in his eyes as he laid eyes on Edric.

He had work to do.

While Theodore was busy boring holes into Edric with his eyes, Edric's eyes fell upon a new woman of interest. So he didn't even notice Theodore's nasty look as he was drinking in his female companion.

So it might have come as a surprise as Edric approached. And Missendria was none the wiser either. She had taken a seat on one of the fainting couches and took a moment to try and compose herself.

That's when the shadow of a man fell upon her. She sighed, wondering if Lord Theodore decided he'd rather not be facing her back side- truthfully, she shouldn't have let the stranger be at her back either- but what she found infront of her was another man- tall on stature and built like a horse.  Seriously, he was like some brick wall. She wasn't even sure what to say to him as he gave her a smile.

And the smile made her shift uncomfortably on her chair.

"I hope I haven't startled you, my lady. I couldn't help but notice you're a new face among us."

Missendria held her breath. Great- just great. She was not even here an hour and already drawing unwanted attention. She was lucky she hadn't been caught and accused of murder. So..
She did what any woman ought to do- and smiled sweetly at the man and said , "That's because I wasn't introduced."

It seemed the sassy reply was the right one, as the man's smile went absolutely wolfish.

Well now. This was... unexpected.

"Ah, a woman of mystery," Edric mused, his tone carrying a hint of amusement. "I do appreciate a touch of intrigue. The name's Edric, and you've already captured my curiosity, my lady."

He cast a quick glance at "Theodore," a sly smirk gracing his lips, before redirecting his complete attention back to the woman.

"And you are?" he asked her.

"With me," Damien quickly interjected.

It was evident that the man had no recollection of him. The last encounter between them occurred when he was just a child in tattered clothes, weeping beside his mother. Damien needed to play that to his advantage and maneuver the present circumstances before they spiraled beyond his influence.

"Theodore Alcott, sir," he said. "A pleasure, I'm sure."

The brick wall gave his name. Edric? Or something.  She didn't catch his whole name because.. well..

Was Theodore... was he defending her? Was he... jealous?

Things may have made more sense if she had realized her 'dear' Theodore was the same man that tried to frame her for murder. But instead, she'd believed her falling ontop of him was their first meeting. 

She also had no idea his history.

She remained quiet, watching the men intently- eyes lingering on Theodore. 

In that moment, the chaos of the panicked crowd and the voices of the guards faded away, leaving only Lola and the contemptible figure before him. Concealing his inner fury behind a polite smile, he addressed the man with calculated restraint.

"I wasn't talking to you, boy," the man retorted dismissively, casting a disdainful glance at Lola. "I was talking to the lady—"

"And I am talking to you," Lola hissed.

Interrupting sharply, Lola seized the man's arms, locking eyes with him and commanding in a stern whispered tone, "You will go upstairs now. Take every measure to remain unseen."

The noble Edric, initially appalled by the abrupt shift in demeanor, transformed into a compliant figure, his expression turning blank. "Yes," he responded softly, blinking. "I'm going upstairs."

She could hardly believe what she saw.  She slowly closed her mouth, not realizing she had been gaping. Did Brickwall really....?

Did he just comply? He straight up obeyed the other man when moments before the pair seemed to almost turn into feral dogs. Color her impressed... if not for the odd feeling in her gut....

She studied Theodore then realized, with a start.

"Wait.. was that brickwall.. your lover?" She asked, hardly believing she was in the middle of a lover's quarrel. "Heck. .. and here I was about to get a complex two men I don't even know wanted to fight over me.."

Her eyes glittered at that as she patted Theodore's hand. 
"Come on, Catch. " the nickname seemed fitting. On account of how they met and .. well...

"Let's go get your man." She tossed him a flirty little wink before rising in a flourish. "We can't leave your lover waiting.."
And she hooked arms with him as she followed after The Wall.

Oh for the love of the gods!

Pressed for time and burdened by her unwelcome presence, he couldn't afford her continued attachment. Ignoring her nauseating remark about Edric and him being a couple, he devised a hasty plan.

Spotting an opportunity, he noticed an abandoned glass of wine on a nearby table—a crude yet effective diversion. With the finesse of a dog on three legs, he spilled the contents onto her chest, feigning clumsiness. "Oh no, clumsy me!" he exclaimed, drawing attention from onlookers. "Someone, please give her something to dry off with!"

Seizing the distraction, he slipped away as others gathered to assist her. Tossing a sly smile her way, he made a discreet escape, rushing up the stairs.

Upstairs, "Theodore" entered a room where Edric awaited, closing and locking the door behind him. The effects of his influence were fading. Good.

As Catch went about fetching up some half drank goblet of wine, she was not prepared for what happened next- as she stood there- velvet dress now trailing with rivulets of sticky, red wine- that even tickled its way beneath her dress and made her squirm .

Many servants and guests alike came to help her, as Missednria caught his look. He should have been smarter than that- or perhaps if he knew her better he wouldn't egg her on.

Think you can get away so easily?

She let the others fuss over her- it was rather uncomfortable to be wearing red wine, but the moment she was able to wriggle free of those fussing over her...

She made her way towards the direction he had gone, stating she was going to 'finish cleaning up and change. ' Not that she had another dress to simply slip into. But she had a Lord to Catch and was anxious to catch up.

Did he honestly thing he could ditch her so quickly? She had some questions for him. And whether he was after a rendez-vous with Mr. Brick Wall.. well...

She would just have to politely ruin his plans. She didn't care if he was in to men, women or elephants- she had a job to do and it seemed she was getting some interesting feedback from Catch-

But this information was hardly enough. So as she found herself returning upstairs she muttered a few curses about a poor choice for two men to rut. But as soon as she made her way up thr staircase, she frowned. 

Now which way had they gone? Surely.. not back to where the murder bad happened...

However.. it seemed that part of the hallway was the most quiet and... instincts had her feel.compelled to want to wash her hands of it and just wait for the men to be done..

However..
Instincts drew her forward as she quietly made her way down the dark hall, wondering if she was really stupid enough to think they'd go this way-

Buy upon seeing a door clicked closed down the way...

Maybe her intuition had been correct?

So she held a breath and crept towards the closed door, and held her breath and just..

Listened. 

Look at this piece of shit.

Edric Eamon reveled in the sadistic pleasure of burning women with fire and scalding their skin with hot metal. Beneath his veneer of nobility lurked a ruthless wolf, deriving satisfaction from the suffering of women, a twisted expression of dominance.

Lola's icy gaze locked onto him as he secured the door. The lingering effects of his control dissipated, revealing a transformation from a vacant stare to confusion and ultimately disgust on his face.

"Theodore, was it?" he grumbled. "What in the gods' names are we doing up here? How did I... What are you..."

Ignoring his bewildered inquiries, Damien stepped forward with unwavering determination. "So, you enjoy preying on defenseless and innocent women, do you?" he asked, his tone soft yet cutting. "I get it—it's just so easy for you, isn't it?"

"Enough with the charades," he retorted, carefully maintaining a distance he deemed safe. "If this is about the woman downstairs, don't pin your inability to satisfy her on me. She seems like she-"

"Shut up," Damien sharply commanded, interrupting him. "This isn't about her. It's about you. Now, shut your damn mouth and listen."

"Watch your tone, boy!" he barked, his face reddening with anger. "What do you-"

Lola cut off any chance for him to continue, swiftly moving in. His open palm seized Edric's face, forcefully propelling him into the wall. Edric's head collided with the unyielding surface, distorting his vision before slumping down to the floor.

"Tell me," he growled. "Do you recall Violet Lola?"

And then, the look. It was the one Damien Lola had anticipated—the slow realization coupled with a sinking fear. It fueled the fire in his heart, as well as his fingers as a tingling sensation of elemental began to surface in his hand.

She heard scraping- a slammed body against a wall. She cupped a hand over her lips- unable to make out the voices but it sounded like the tone was threatening. 

Oh no..
No..

Was Edric the murderer?

Oh no.. Catch...

She threw the door open and rushed inside, hoping the action startled the murderer from getting his prey. Only as she rushed in.. she was very confused at what she saw and stumbled to a halt, nearly tripping over the two men.

Lola teetered on the edge of triumph as the mysterious woman of the night stumbled into the room, nearly tripping over him. With no time for hesitation, Lola knew the moment had come. He couldn't unveil his identity for the impending revenge, but his priority was ending Edric before he could inflict more harm.

"Back!" Damien hissed, instincts guiding him as he forcefully pushed the woman aside. Refocusing on Edric, it was evident that the noble was seizing this interruption as a chance to flee.

Edric scrambled desperately in the opposite direction. "He's mad!" he cried, his knees shifting on the floor. "Please! Get—"

Without allowing him to finish, Lola swiftly swung his leg, delivering a powerful kick to the panicked noble's face. Edric fell to the floor with a muffled cry, but before he could recover, Lola pounced on him again.

Damien covered his mouth with his palm, preventing a scream. "Since you have a penchant for fire," he whispered harshly, "burn."

With determination, Lola directed the fire elemental through his hand, sending flames down Edric's throat. Holding him firmly, Lola witnessed Edric's limbs flail in a frantic struggle as his body shook from the internal burns.

As soon as the light faded from his eyes, Damien withdrew his hand, exposing a palm stained black with ash.

However, there was no time to celebrate. Realization struck him swiftly, prompting him to turn and confront the woman who had witnessed the entire scene.

"You."

Missendria was forced back, painfully crashing into a wall. She wasn't sure what was going on. But the sounds sounded terrible. Oh no..
Her heart sank.

Was she too late?

She got up- just as she watched Theodore stepnaway from his prey. 

Wait...
How did..
When did...

She blinked in confusion.

Had Edric been the killer.. or...

She looked at Theodore as he looked at her. And slowly, she began to back away towards the door.

"I wouldn't do that," he said, his breath labored from adrenaline.

Raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, he remained still, his gaze fixed on her. "You've witnessed my capabilities - more than once," he began calmly, despite the urgency within. "Are you sure you want to run now? I can chase you, or I can explain."

Taking a risk, he eased into an unoccupied seat, maintaining unbroken eye contact, signaling a gradual lowering of his guard. He could only hope that this would work.

Missendria tensed. The gears in her head rolling as she realized..

"You're the killer.."

Her eyes widened. 

The man at the window...
The oddness with the guard..
The abrupt pardoning of Edric..

Now this.

Yes, it all clearly clicked into place.  And she realized she was in over her head.

Oh Kia's Name...

She took another step back, gritting her teeth. 

"I could scream," She warned him, eyes never leaving his form as he took a seat. Did he honestly think she'd just.. just.. stick around with a dead body in the room to just.. chit chat?

"Who is that woman? Was she on the guest list?" he began asking, his voice his own but the words clearly borrowed from what the patrons of the estate might say. "As soon as she showed up, terrible things started happening. She's not even a noble like us, look at her!"

Damien Lola orchestrated a narrative where he could easily cast the blame on her, leveraging his influence to manipulate thoughts in any direction he desired.

"Like I said before, all it would take is a single word," he explained calmly. "I don't want to have to do that. Sit. Please."

Despite his arguments, every fiber of her being said run. However...
"You already tried to pin this at me before.."

But he also sorta saved her life.

She didn't sit. 

But she also didn't run.

He took a brief pause, carefully choosing his next words.

"You've misunderstood," he calmly clarified. "I saw an opportunity you provided, but it was merely an experiment. If I aimed to incriminate you, you'd be in custody already."

Leaning back in his chair, he crossed one leg over the other, delicately stroking his chin.

"I opted against it," he continued. "Because, from what I see, we're more alike than you may realize."

While he wished to disclose details about Edric and William, he knew he had to navigate this encounter cautiously before delving into that conversation.

That... comparison was unexpected.  She looked at the corpse, then back to him.

"Excuse me, Catch, but I must have missed the part where  I ooze the presence of a murderous villian."

He sighed softly, refraining from rubbing his temples, and instead, he fixed his gaze sharply on the woman by the doorway.

"You're an outsider," he began. "Not of noble blood like me. Yet, you cloak yourself in nobility, causing discomfort, much like I do. What drives someone to adopt such a facade?"

Allowing the last question to linger, he pressed on.

"There's an ulterior motive, akin to mine," he continued. "In fact, your persistent presence tonight hints that I might be your motive. I must have a nice bounty on my back for you to target me."

A pause followed, a fleeting glance at Edric's lifeless body, then back to her.

"He was my target. Would you care to know why?"

Missendria tried to keep her face a neutral mask but..
Her eyes always gave her away.

She studied the man as he spoke, her body still tense.

"I'm not here for a bounty."
She glared in his direction.  She was no killer.

But.. she remained.  Her job was to figure this man out...

Well... what better way than this?

His smile, though subtle, carried a note of knowing. "Yet, you're not here for noble pleasantries," he deduced. "And I suspect you're not not here for me in some fashion."

While keeping his gaze locked on her, he gestured towards Edric. "Meet Edric Eamon. He, alongside William Laird, may wear noble titles, but beneath the surface, they lead an underground society reveling in the abuse and torture of women. Their actions persist, shielded by societal stature. Why in the gods should they be allowed to get away with that?"

His arm returned to his lap, his fists clenching. "My mother was a victim," he disclosed quietly, a rare undercurrent of anger surfacing beneath his usual calm demeanor.

She grew strangely quiet by his reveal. Those men...

He had calculated out murders... but if what he said were true...

Then those men should be gutted like the pigs they were.

She finally looked away, still trying to digest what he confessed.

"Why are you telling me this?" She finally lifted her gaze to him. "You planning to kill me now since I'm a witness? You just confessed..."

He shook his head briskly, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I don't harm the innocent, Heels," he responded, crafting her a nickname with the same amount of love and care that she did for him. "You haven't done anything that would require my level of attention, have you?"

It wasn't a direct threat, yet it wasn't the complete truth either. He had no intention of harming her, but the absence of loose ends depended on her cooperation. Studying her closely, his gaze carried a subtle scrutiny.

Before she could reply, he inquired, "What's your name?"

Don't harm the innocent? 
"What if I'm not innocent? Should I be worried then, Catch.?"

Then he asked for her name. She folded her arms across her chest.

"Do you honestly think I'd reveal that to you?"

"Unless you're involved in the torment of these women, particularly my mother, there's no cause for me to inflict harm upon you."

His words may not have carried weight for her, but they held genuine intent. He hoped she could see that.

"Damien Lola is my real name," he disclosed. "Theodore Alcott is a guise I fashioned to navigate this world discreetly. You needn't tell me your name, but withholding it gains you nothing."

She tensed at his reveal. Was he really seeking a name for a name?

"Well, we're only two people and you've already given two names, Catch, so any more would be a party and.. it looks to me like we're both likely to exit this one..."

She was nervous, however. This man was clearer clever.. and dangerous. She needed to be smart about this if she didn't want to be corpse number 3.

In the dimly lit room, Damien stood up, his eyes locking onto hers. "I've been honest with you, but I still don't know your name. It's a small detail that you can choose not to share, but it matters to me."

Before she could respond, the distant echoes of footsteps on the stairs caught his attention. The guards were coming, and he had wasted too much time on her to properly cover his tracks.  Damien shot her a look of concern, and he swiftly straightened up. "We're out of time," he whispered urgently. "Guards are coming. We need to go—now."

She started.  One second she thought the man was going to stick her with a knife...
Then the next...

She cringed and looked back to Damien.

"Go.. go where? There's only a small window in this room and the other door is likely a closet.."

And those foot steps were too close...

She closed her eyes than turned to him.

"Look.. don't get any ideas but.. play along."

And she suddenly threw herself into his arms so the pair was pressed up against the wall- lips meeting his as she released a more than convincing moan at the taste of him. Her hands moved all over him, quick to ruffle up his hair and pull his body in close so she could grind.

And just as she was about to see if the guards were coming.. thankfully at this angle their bodies would hide the rest of the room (and subsequent corpse) from view.


Then she  heard it. There was a frantic apology and the guards scrambling to get away. And she smiled through a kiss.

This was... unexpected.

His eyes widened in surprise as she initiated the unexpected kiss, the abruptness leaving him momentarily puzzled. Yet, in a matter of moments, he grasped the reason behind her actions and willingly played his part.

Embracing her with the fervor of a passionate lover, he met her kiss eagerly, his hand cradling her face as she pressed her body against his.

"S-sorry!" a guard's voice echoed, their footsteps gradually fading away.

Taking this as their chance to disengage, he attempted to pull back. However, an unexpected sensation made him pause. Was she... biting his lip?

Perhaps it had been.. too long since she'd felt the affectionate touch of a man. She hadn't  expected him to be a more than decent kisser and..

She blushed and pulled away, covering her mouth. Had she just... well, whatever- it worked and she glanced over at the door. 

"Looks like it worked. "

Then.. awkwardly, she peeled the rest of her body off of him.

Oh boy. She might have gone just a tad over board. But it made it convincing- even if she wasn't about to admit she had enjoyed herself.  

She fixed her skirts and straps of her dress- realizing she'd almost given Catch a show.

"So now what? You got plans for that body?"

For the first time in ages, Damien found himself momentarily speechless. Whether it was the unexpected kiss, the sensation of her lips against his, or the way she moved with her voluptuous figure, something stirred within him.

"I, uh—" he stammered, his cheeks ablaze.

Typically adept at slipping away unnoticed, leaving behind only seeds of confusion or blame, this situation demanded a different approach. The need to adapt in the presence of the woman made him less cautious than usual. Shielding her from undeserved accusations could complicate their escape.

"Just," he began, his words trailing off in contemplation. "Head downstairs. Rejoin the party. I'll handle this and find a way to divert any unnecessary attention from you."

She frowned.

"Returning to the party alone could draw suspicion. "

And she wasn't exactly eager to return. 
Besides, she was supposed to be keeping an eye on this man.

What did he say his real name was? Dewayne? Darian? Something like that.

She looked around the room, then back over at him abd sighed.
"Couldn't have killed these guys in the courtyard?"

Then she froze, hearing a noise down the hall.

"I think someone else is coming. "

Damien let out a slightly louder sigh than intended, audibly expressing his frustration. "Of course there is," he muttered irritably, more to himself than anyone else. "Why wouldn't that be the case?"

Doubting that their previous trick would succeed again and unsure if his heart could even take it, he rapidly scanned the room for any potential solution. A large fur throw caught his eye.

It might be his dumbest idea to date, but he had no time for second-guessing. Hastily, he draped the blanket over the lifeless form before seizing the woman's hand, leading her through another door and closing it quietly behind them.

Her earlier assumption proved correct—it was a closet, and a much snugger one than Damien had anticipated.

Before she could make a smart comment about the way he did a poor job at hiding the corpse- she was being dragged along as the pair stepped inside..

She squeezed in close to him, unsure if he could see her glare in the dim light below the door. 

"Really? Was this your best plan? Hell.  We should have just closed the door and started making naughty noises!"
No one would have tried to walk in on that. 

"Shh!"

He shushed her, immediately placing his hand to her lips as he heard the footsteps drawing nearer. Not just one set either, but two.

She had a fair point, but it was too late to negotiate tactics!

She was tempted to want to bite his damn finger. But she had to remind herself he was a killer. Justified or not, it still made her squirm and now she was stuck in the closet with him.

She tried her best to keep quiet- for she too, was anxious to hear who it might be.  But the noises were odd.. something about it seemed rhythmic.

She moved to press her ear against the door- but a sudden cry from the other room had her throwing herself into Catch's arms reflexively.

"Oh lord Braunminn! Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Missendria immediately felt her entire body heat up.

 "No way!" She hissed under her breath.  What kind of awful luck was this!?

It took Damien a moment longer to discern the commotion on the other side of the door, and when he did, a frustrated groan almost escaped him. Of course, it had to be this way! Two individuals caught in the midst of a party where a body had already been discovered, engaging in intimate moments upstairs with another concealed corpse just a few feet away.

As the woman shifted position, she inadvertently left Damien even less space in the already confined closet. Attempting to rectify this, he stealthily shuffled away, but, as with everything else that night, his plans went awry. He stumbled, a muffled thump likely resonating, and his face ended up directly pressed into Heels' chest.

She hit him. The moment his face got buried into her chest- she was smacking him like a cat batting at a rodent. 

"What are you doing?!" She hissed, trying her best to maneuver herself so that the pair could each have their space- only her knee got caught on her dress and she stumbled forward into him- their heads knocking together- making her see stars.

In the pitch-black closet, Damien couldn't see, but he could unmistakably feel her delivering a series of hits, including the solid thud of their skulls colliding. Briefly, he caught a glimpse of stars, only to be swiftly introduced to an unexpected celestial realm – slumping over with his face nestled between her legs.

The need to adjust their positioning loomed, but navigating the confined space without creating a ruckus proved challenging.

For the moment, he decided to enjoy utopia.

Missendria gave a gasp. It seemed each struggle in their position got worse.

"Catch!" She hissed between her breath. Why was he just laying there like a lump between her legs!?

She supposed she would have found this amusing- were lives not at stake, this man being a killer, and still more or less they were strangers navigating this other world.

Her entire body was even hot about.  She supposed in any other situation, she might even enjoy this.. not that she would admit she were enjoying it now. Had it been that long she had been intimate with a man that she was actually getting naughty ideas now?

They needed to get out of that closet- and she out of this place. She had a ton of secrets already about this man for her boss. And bonus points- he still hadn't gotten her name.

So imagine her surprise when she groped at the wall, trying to find purchase so she could try to stand again when she felt something heavy teeter over them. Shit!

For a fleeting moment, Damien entertained the reckless idea of diving even deeper into the intimacy between her legs, surrendering to the allure of desire. Yet, her voice snapped him back to reality. Was he truly so susceptible to lust that he'd willingly jeopardize his meticulously crafted plans for the evening?

Complicating matters, it seemed like impending doom was about to descend upon them. Reacting on instinct, he maneuvered over her, inadvertently lifting her dress higher, all while hoping she remained oblivious to the developments below his waist.

Shielding her from the shelves cascading down, he absorbed the brunt of the impact with his back, enduring a few stray hits to his head and legs.

He tried to muffle his groans of pain, but it appeared it was all for naught. The movement outside came to a sudden quiet, and then he heard someone speak from the other side of the closet door.

"Did you hear that?"

She swallowed back a yelp as things fell upon them on the dark. Catch had moved, once again, to put himself on the way of danger for her. She instinctively clung to him, his body like a shield.

Her heart now hammered inside her ears- but not loud enough she couldn't hear that.

"Catch.." came her throaty reply. They were intimately close again. "Sorry but.. we're going to have to get real close again."

And she gave no warning as hands fumbled at his pants.

"Hurry! Open up your pants. Quickly!"

Her hands already had his belt- which she yanked out in one skilled motion and let it rattle to the ground. Then she shuffled beneath him, frantic and frazzled before he'd feel her undergarments be tossed passed his head towards the door.

They had to make this authentic.  There was no way when that door opened they wouldn't be seen.

She didn't wait to see how far he'd gotten with the rest of his pants as she gripped onto his body like a lover and clung onto his hair, nearly pulling it out in her frantic motion before she gripped at his hips and pulled him between her legs with frantic need- only for her to realize a few things just happened and she froze.

And she couldn't help but smile a little as she laughed breathily against him.

"Catch.. are you.." she flushed, all over. She hadn't expected him to be.. well..this authentic. They were supposed to be acting but... they were at the real act's front door.

And Kia help her as she kissed him. She kissed him and coaxed for more.

Her words was all he needed to hear, or wanted to hear, to throw all other logic out the window.

He heard the sound of her breath catching as his hands traced her curves. In that moment, nothing else mattered to him but the softness of her skin and the urgency of his desire. The tension between them had been building, an aching need for release. 

Quietly he slipped off his pants at her command, her legs wrapping around him, inviting him closer. Her lips found his, and his hers, kissing hungrily. He trailed kisses down her neck as she arched into him. With a gasp, he was inside her, moving together in a frenzied rhythm, trying to stay silent as ecstasy overwhelmed him.

If anyone was coming in, he neither would know or care in that moment.

This was stupid. This was foolish. But damn if it wasn't already turning into some of the best sex she'd ever had.

She couldn't stop moaning and kissing him and clinging to him tight. He filled her so completely and moved with such hungered need all she could do was hold on for the ride.

God it had been too long, but damn was she gonna ride this for all it was worth.  Hell, she could die tomorrow .. or even today.


Didn'tshe deserve just one moment to just live?

"We're being fools," She moaned through heated kisses. "But gods  above.. please don't stop."

"I am a fool," he agreed breathily as pleasure coursed through his body. Despite that, he fucked her mercilessly.

The sound at the door was distant, drowned out by the sweet moans of ecstasy in Damien's ears. Her nails raked down his back, igniting sparks across his skin. He shuddered, losing himself in her embrace.

Their bodies moved together, primal and urgent, and pressure welt up inside of him.

"Tell me your name," he pleaded, his voice husky with desire.

For a long moment, she couldn't speak. She could only be fucked.

He wanted to know her name?

He wanted to know her name...

She couldn't help herself as her moans and wails of pleasure intensified. Her entire body felt the hot, electric, sensational thrill of him wanting even more of her than this.

He doesn't know.

She moaned.

He doesn't know my name.

She began to buck more wildly beneath him, her cries of pleasure mounting.

And of course, she couldn't just give it to him.

In fact, she actually laughed- a delicious noise that disappeared into a deep, throaty moan.

"My name?" She panted, violet eyes finally looking into his. She cupped his face, the other hand gripping and raking through his dark hair.
"You want my name?"

He had given her his.

What was it again?

She moaned it.

Then she asked..
"What are you going to give me for it?" It was a hot and playful, hungered challenge.

Her name. Finally.

Something about hearing it made him ache for her even more. He didn't even take notice the familiarity of the name.

He uttered her name like a fervent plea, surrendering his body wholly to her. A kiss fueled by an insatiable appetite ensued, accompanied by a playful bite on her lip. In a whisper, he declared, "I'm going to make you explode."

His words carried a playful confidence, teetering on the edge of command. Engaged in the challenge, he became relentless, intensifying both pace and force, the echoes of their skin meeting resonating within the confined space.

... a turn of the doorknob.

There was a gasp, and the door clicked closed. Then nervous laughter and arguing was muffled just outside the door. 

It seemed their fellow promiscuous partners had realized the place was crowded.  It almost sounded like they were wishing them well.

But she didn't care. The sudden realization they had been caught and the him commanding her, calling her, moaning her name. 

Her voice suddenly exploded- she couldn't contain the rising pool of pleasure and she was seeing stars. She clung onto him fiercely, crying out his names to the heavens as she road out their bodies' eruption of ecstasy. 

The door had creaked open and then discreetly closed. Regardless of the potential implications, Damien was too deeply immersed to do anything but see it through to the end.

Their bodies moved in seamless harmony, her touch and grip radiating warmth and intensity, while his strides carried a forceful rhythm with each thrust.

"Missendria!" he cried her name in a blend of pleasure and agony before sealing their connection with a passionate kiss. Soon, he released the culmination of his pent-up frustration and desire in a powerful climax.

As the pace slowed, a sheen of sweat covered his body, and he rested his forehead on hers.

She lay beneath him in an exhausted heap, moaning still in the after glow. It all felt too good, this moment too perfect as she sighed a long and husky sigh of satisfaction.

"Gods.. Damien.." Her eyes rolled back as she closed them tight, shivering at the sheer memory of their bliss.

How had this even happened? They went from trying to fake it to having an absolute mess of pleasure together.

She shivered again, toes curling- she must have lost her heels during their tussle.

She laughed softly as soon as she realized how ridiculous this all had been as fingers curled into his hair and she sighed contentedly.

"I might need to keep you around.." she purred. Hell.. he'd make for one fun contract if she got to sleep with her mark.

And was she really entertaining that?

Did it matter? She made another pleasurable, exhausted noise beneath him.

"Just please don't tell me you have a wife.."

A soft chuckle escaped him, his eyes seeking hers in the darkness. Gods, he had needed that.

He shifted beside her, the tight confines strangely fitting in the aftermath. His hand sought hers, fingers entwining as he delicately traced her palm with his thumb.

"No wife," he exhaled heavily. "I've been too consumed by revenge my whole life to make room for something like this."

After a brief pause, he continued, "You'll be my special exception," a small grin playing on his lips. "But, uh... we should probably get out of here."

Despite it being nearly pitch black in the closet, light from the body softly illuminated them from beneath the door. Gods he looked sexy all disheveled after sex.

And then he spoke- her heart skipping a beat and her face flushed. 

An exception... did that mean..?

No.. no she couldn't count on it..wouldn't  count on it. Last time she believed she was somebody's exception...

It was exactly what lead her to here.

So she cooly chuckled and agreed.

"Think it's safe to come out?"

With their fingers still entwined, he tenderly brought her hand to his lips, placing a kiss on her knuckles before sighing and reluctantly pulling his pants back on.

"Probably not," he confessed. "But I don't think waiting would make it any safer."

The playful, genuine smile he flashed her carried a hint of suggestion, qualities likely concealed by the darkness surrounding them.

Her heart fluttered at how tender he was being.  But that soon changed to a groan when she stood up, squirming at the mess between her legs. Well that solidified it wasn't a dream.

"I.. might need a moment.." She moved to stand, adjusting her dress. Sighing she asked, raking a hand through her hair..."you don't happen to have a kerchief.. would ya? Or .. "she sighed, looking around. "See my other shoe and panties?"

He did, indeed, have a kerchief, a useful relic from his Noble persona ensemble. Retrieving it from his pocket, he placed it in her hand. "You can keep it," he added quickly, a sheepish grin on his face.

Turning his attention to the clutter in the closet – remnants of their earlier chaos and amorous escapades – he dropped to his knees. His hands sifted through the jumble on the floor, searching for anything resembling the items Missendria sought.

Halting on something soft and silky, he called over his shoulder, "I think this might be yours," while handing it to her. "Let's get you cleaned up, and then I will check the coast is clear. Might be easier to find your shoes with some light."

She sighed with relief, accepting the kerchief. 
"A hero and a gentleman. "
Then she stood there, a bit awkward. 

"Why don't you see if the cost is clear and I'll..well.." she laughed. "Make myself a little less.. like I.. just had sex in a closet. "

Oh.

"Of course," he agreed readily, a slight flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. Lining his eyes with the crack in the closet door, he observed nothing of immediate concern. Swiftly, he slipped out of the space, closing it to afford Missendria some privacy.

Despite recently sharing an intimate encounter with a woman he had never met before, he almost felt a sense of chivalry.

Then he observed his surroundings.

Scanning the room, it seemed clear for both of them, but something else seized his attention. His eyes widened in sudden disbelief, fearing his mind might be playing tricks on him. After a few moments, it became unmistakably clear, causing is heart to sink to the deepest depths of his stomach.

Edric Eamon was gone.

A moment later, she stepped  out of the closet. She was still smoothing down her dress, hanging back a little timidly by the closet.

"So... do I look less like I just crawled out of a sex closet or should I be worried the whole party will know?"

But she saw something about his expression...

"Do I look that bad?" She jested, but then her expression twisted. "Wait. .. is something actually wrong?"

Fuck! Shit! What the fuck?! How in the all hells?!

Numerous thoughts swirled through Damien's mind, predominantly negative reflections on his own carelessness, yet words eluded him. His eyes portrayed a blend of confusion and horror as he slowly gestured toward the spot where the Nobleman should have been. The blanket lay discarded, and unmistakably, there was no trace of a body..

Then he finally spoke.

"Fuck."

"Damien?"

She made a face, slowly approaching him and where he looked.
"What's the matter? What's wrong?"

Then she froze.

"Where's.. the body...?"

"I don't know," he replied almost absentmindedly.

He was certain he had finished Edric off. No, he was positive. A lifeless body couldn't just resurrect and stroll away, could it? And if someone had discovered and relocated the body, they would've heard something, right? Despite what they were doing, they would have at least heard that.

As he scrutinized the space more closely, searching for any clues, he noticed it. Concealed slightly by the throw, a lone phoenix feather lingered, left behind.

His heart raced, a fiery sensation roared in his chest, his fists and jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed. Anger surged, accompanied by an emotion he hadn't felt in a while - fear.

Edric was alive, and he now knew exactly who Damien was.

"We can't stay here," he said softly, clearing his throat as he spoke. "I have somewhere we can go, but... we can't stay here."

She wasn't sure what to say, stunned that the body was just missing. 

"Wait.. why? Do you know who took the body? "

Kia's Name! This was a nightmare. 

"He's still alive."

Angry determination etched across his face, he swiftly retrieved the phoenix feather, revealing its burnt edges from recent use. "He's still alive," he repeated, his voice a mixture of urgency and frustration. He wasn't even sure if the woman knew the significance of the feather, but time didn't permit explanations.

"We have to go," he pleaded. "Tonight, I'll take you to my place. Being seen with me puts you in danger here. Please."

His voice carried an urgent plea as he stepped toward the door, glancing back at her, hand extended. "Follow my lead."

She opened her mouth to protest, but what would she say? As usual, she was in over her head. Why couldn't she find a nice man to settle down with outside of this gods forsaken country?

Between her boss, ex-lover, and now current murder spree lover...

Part of her began to wonder if she was cursed.. or just plain stupid.

But despite all that was going on...
Dare she forget her true goal?

"I.. I shouldn't come with you..." She began, not sure how to word it but.. "I.. have to meet someone after the party. I... er.. am kind of on the clock?"

That even sounded lame to her.

If Damien could have concealed the hurt in his eyes, he would have, but even he had moments of vulnerability, unable to mask his true feelings. Yet, that glimpse of emotion only lingered momentarily before his face hardened into a stoic expression. He nodded reluctantly, releasing a heavy breath.

"I understand," he said softly.

In truth, he didn't understand, or perhaps he didn't want to. Being "on the clock" implied his initial suspicions about her involvement were somewhat accurate – he was the reason she was here, or someone was. Regardless, he had subjected her to enough that night and had no intention of pushing further.

The mention of the name in his book also resurfaced in his mind – Missendria. When he learned her name, he was physically inside of her, making questioning her absurd at the time. But why her? What had she done to warrant a lead on someone like that? He wished he could erase the name from the book and pretend it never existed, but he knew that wasn't an option. Perhaps now, he would have the time needed to process it.

First things first, he had to leave.

"I need to go," he finally said, taking her hand in his and kissing the top of her knuckles. "It's been fun, Missendria."

Stepping away from her, he began calculating plans to exit safely while devising a diversion for her if needed.

That look.
It cut her like a knife in the gut. Perhaps she chosen her words poorly. But she had to protect herself. Wouldn't this all just lead to the same heart ache in the end?

When he kissed her hand she looked away. Why was he being so sweet to her? Sure they just had some really good sex but...

"Wait..."

What was she doing?

"Before you go.."

This was a mistake. 

"I need to tell you something. "
 

She hesitated.  What was she doing? They didn't have time for this...

"Someone very powerful wants to know more about you. What you're doing... it's drawing more unwanted attention than you know "

His face betrayed him once more, this time registering surprise. While Damien had always anticipated someone catching onto him eventually, it was still unexpected – especially from her.

Swallowing the numerous questions he had for her, he simply nodded, offering a small smile. "Thanks for the warning," he said softly.

Before she could respond, he approached her once more, taking both of her hands in his and giving them a gentle squeeze. "You don't have to worry about me. I knew what I was getting into," he assured her. "Just... get out of here, and be safe about it. Can you do that for me?"

They were apparently both terrible poker players.

She squeezed his hand back.

"You don't understand... who I work for..."

Was she stupid enough to give that away?

She sighed, words lost as she looked into his eyes.

"What should I tell him?" She asked quietly, keeping his gaze. "The man I work for is dangerous, Damien. And he sent me here to bring back Intel on you.. well.. actually Lord Theodore and I.."

She grit her teeth.

"If I expose what I know.. "

Unfortunately, time didn't permit this conversation. His gaze lingered on her for a moment, softened by her evident concern.

"Come with me, and you can tell me all about it," he proposed, extending his hand to her one last time. "Or cut me loose and tell him what you need to ensure your safety. I can't wait a moment longer."

"I..." she visibly paled, remembering what happened the last time she failed her boss. "I.. I would need to meet with my associate in a few hours.. I.."

She wasn't sure following him would be wise. It made things far more complicated than they already were. But a part of her wanted to go. Wanted to just ignore those dark obligations and just live.

But there was so much at stake. And she wasn't sure she would get a third chance to fail. 

"I just can't.. I-"

And then there were footsteps down the hall.
Damn the party- couldn't anyone stay down in the ballroom?

Then she had a stupid plan and shot Damien an apologetic look.
Then she disappeared out into the hall, closing the door behind her. And he'd hear her playfully address the guests in the hall.

Damien, you'd better get out of there.

things were better this way. She hardly knew him.  It was just a brief encounter. 

But he was her mark.

What was she to tell her boss?

"What were you doing in that room?" One of the men asked her. 

"Yes.. isn't that where the murder had happened?"

Shit. She didn't think this part through. So she laughed about it as if it were the silliest idea as she tried to think of a way to talk herself out of this conversation. 

Well, apparently he did have to wait a moment longer.

Come on, Missy. He cursed her name under his breath, despite the blame for the situation really falling on him. He needed to think something, anything, to get the attention off of her.

He also needed to get the hells out of there.

Well, two birds with one stone, he guessed.

Damien swiftly removed the intricate layers of his noble garb, revealing a more practical and stealthy ensemble beneath. The muted hues of dark fabric replaced the vibrant colors of his ornate clothing. Each piece shed was a step away from his aristocratic identity, and in the dim light, he emerged as a different man – one ready to create a distraction.

The final touch was the mask, concealing everything below his eyes, leaving only his piercing gaze exposed.

"Time for a diversion," he declared in his natural voice, devoid of the refined accent of an upright nobleman.

With a swift kick, he sent the door flying open, the echoing sound reverberating through the hallway and drawing the attention of several onlookers.

"You," he snapped, addressing Missendria. "You're next."

It was quite the theatrical performance, sure, but it was the best he could come up with on short notice.

As expected, before he could "attack" the woman, several guards and brave patrons inserted themselves between the two, prompting Damien to promptly turn on his heel and make his escape.

Missendria nearly jumped clean from her skin when the door was kicked open. Then her heart lurched into her chest at the threat. It wasn't until the men went after the masked man that she began to realize who it was. 

"Damien?"

What  the hell was he doing!?

Seems like that did the trick.

Winding his way through the crowd, some unfortunate individuals finding themselves sprawled on the ground in his wake, Damien reached the ground floor and slipped through the exit. In the yard, cloaked by the night's darkness, he glanced over his shoulder, spotting several pursuers. Guards, most likely. He could only hope this diversion provided Missendria with an escape route.

As he pondered his next move, he knew returning to Theodore's estate was out of the question. With Edric resurrected, it would not take long for him to piece together the puzzle and track him down there. Yet, his concern for the people within his estate, particularly his trusted "staff" who were more friends than subordinates, weighed on him. They could now become targets.

Gods dammit, he cursed silently. What a mess he had created.

Taking refuge behind a tree in a wooded area, Damien kept a vigilant eye out for his pursuers, contemplating the unpredictable path he now had to navigate.

"You smell like sex."

"Yeah, well, you look like a giant toe, so I guess we can't all be perfect. "

The hairy man gave her a sharp look, unamused by her quick reply. Thaedys was some half human beast of a man whose looks were unfortunate.

"You're early."

"Yes, yes, I am. And to think, I even had time to do my hair "

Missendria had since dressed down, ditching the fancy dress for something a back town whore would wear.

Thaedys eyed her. They were both lounging by the back of the Mud House- a small hut like hovel known for its terrible beer, dirty women but cheap prices.

"I suppose you have the information?"

Missendria gave him a soured smile.

"Look at you, Thaedys. Never missing a beat."

He just narrowed his eyes at her.

"Aside from him fucking with women at parties, what you got?"

Missendria's smile curdled.

"What if I told you he's good at fucking women at parties?"

Thaedys was unimpressed.

"I can release his dick size too, if you really wanna know-"

She yelped as a second later, her hand was slammed into the table- a large, wicked, dirty knife poking her wrist.

"I'm not here to play around," he growled, exposing rows if sharp, yellow teeth. "You know what the boss is after."

Her heart was pounding in her throat, even after the knife was put away.

"You were saying? " His eyes narrowed dangerously upon her. "What do you know about your mark?"

In the encompassing darkness of the forest, Damien moved with a practiced grace, the sound of his footsteps masked by the rustling leaves and the distant calls of his pursuers. The chilling air heightened his senses as he navigated the dense vegetation, a fleeting shadow among the trees.

He sensed the pursuit closing in – the echo of footsteps, the hushed whispers of the guards. Damien quickened his pace, weaving through the trees like a phantom, his eyes adjusting to the low light.
As he rounded a bend, he spotted a lone guard, alert and scanning the surroundings. Damien's instincts kicked in, and with a silent approach, he closed the gap. A swift, calculated movement, and the guard slumped to the ground, unconscious.

His escape continued, slipping through the forest like a wraith. The occasional snap of a twig or the soft crunch of leaves beneath his feet were expertly muffled. Each step brought him farther from the encroaching guards, their frustrated voices fading into the night.

With a final glance over his shoulder, Damien melted into the shadows, leaving the forest behind as he disappeared into the veil of the night, his pursuers none the wiser to his escape.

——

Several days had passed since the Ball. Lord William was successfully struck off Damien's list, but Edric had eluded him. That wouldn't happen again.

Then there was Missendria, a name on his list that seemed out of place. Her character didn't align with his usual targets, perhaps clouded by the intimacy they shared. Regardless, he'd have to address her later. For now, more pressing matters demanded his attention.

Edric Eamon remained at large, and the revelation of Damien's true identity put his friends at the estate in jeopardy. The thought of harm befalling them was something he couldn't bear.

After the events of the party, Damien sought refuge in the underground living quarters, an enclave known as the underground city of survivors. There, he arranged a meeting with his contact to strategize the extraction of his staff from the estate and ensure their safety in the underground sanctuary.

——

It was a cold night again, with the threat of impending rain, when Damien stealthily slipped into the Mud
House, his mask and covert attire blending seamlessly with the rogues and thugs that frequented the place. Silently, he ordered a drink and took a seat at the bar.

A woman joined him without a word, her voice barely audible as she spoke, "Did you wait long?"

Adella, one of Damien's primary contacts in the underground city, made a name for herself as a woman who got things done. Beneath the guise of seemingly impoverished attire, she revealed a striking figure with eyes as red as fire.

"No," Damien replied, his glass meeting his lips. "I trust you've been briefed on the issue?"

She had to meet with Thaedys again. Her most favorite happily soured beast man. Last they met she gave some Intel she knew about Lord Theodore directlyafter the party. Not certain it would satisfy, as she purposefully left out some details.. so she was tasked to get more.

But man it was hard to get a hold of the Lord.  She could figure out his home well enough, but the few times she tried to scope the place out.. he wasn't home. And she wasn't about to show her face there- atleast not directly.

"No new news, Thaedy," She told him with a sigh.  "Seems it really was a one night stand. So the boss got any better ideas?"

Thaedys made a face. He hated the cutesy nickname Thaedy.

"This is your mission," he growled.  "Either you find a way to get to him.. or else."

Her stomach turned cold.

But she kept her cool, coy smile.

"Or else he changes my mark?" She asked, flirtatiously fluttering her painted lashes.

Thaedys growled.

"I'll give you one more week, Missendria. Get back with that Lord or else. "

He didn't need to finish his statement as he got up and left the establishment, leaving her to squirm uneasily at the table, alone.

"Damien, it's unlike you to make such mistakes," Adella remarked, her tone soft and teasing, laced with a hint of jealousy, or so it seemed.

Their conversation unfolded in hushed tones, the two figures never turning to face each other. To an outsider, they appeared as strangers silently sipping their drinks, oblivious to each other's presence.

Once Damien finalized arrangements with Adella for his estate staff's safety in the city of survivors, he signaled the bartender to settle his tab. As he prepared to leave, a firm grip on his arm brought him to a sudden halt. Turning, he found Adella facing him, her hand holding his arm with an unwavering grip.

"Be careful," she urged with genuine concern. With that, she released her hold, rose from her seat, and exited the establishment, leaving Damien to ponder her parting words.

She took to people watching to get her mind off  Thaedy's words.  The Mud House had all kinds of interesting people and soon she found herself distracted enough- until she noted a man who looked familiar.  She couldn't quite put her finger on it. 

Her eyes widened as she realized..

"Damien.."

She muttered a curse. What was he doing here!? Then she noticed he wasn't sitting alone and stiffened as she realized he was there with another woman. 

She should have been elated she found her mark again, but her flight response was activated. She didn't want him to see her there.

She got up quickly and hastily moved to leave- only she walked clean into some wall of a man and sent his drinks toppling onto them both.

She hastily apologized, cursing and turning her back towards where Damien sat- only to feel a large arm wrap around her.

"Hey now, lassie, where you going so quick? Ain't you gonna clean this mess up?"

The man pulled her in closer than she would have liked as she squirmed beneath his grip. 

"Now, now, I might let you have a pass here if you use your tongue. Oh.. but my.. it seems most of my beer has splashed all over you! Can't let that go to waste now can we?"

And before she knew what the man was doing, he bent forward and lapped his warm tongue all across the front of her booze covered breasts.

Damien, ready to depart, was drawn back by a sudden commotion that disrupted the calm atmosphere of the room. His gaze swept across the patrons, seeking the source of the disturbance.

What on earth was that man doing?

A tightness gripped Damien's chest as he witnessed a burly figure engaged in a grotesque and disrespectful act. His fists clenched in anger at the blatant violation, but his shock intensified when he recognized the woman subjected to such indignity.

Missendria?!

His rage flared, replacing initial anger. Moving swiftly, purposefully, Damien approached the scene with a knife in hand.

"Get off her," he hissed, forcefully separating the imposing man from Missendria. Swift as lightning, Damien seized the man's arm, slamming it onto a nearby table. Without hesitation, he drove his knife through the man's hand, effectively pinning him to the wooden surface. The room stood frozen, the sudden eruption of violence leaving an indelible mark on the establishment.

The man hadn't expected the reaction. He had been drunk.. perhaps too drunk and wailed the moment the knife pinned him to the table. 

Missendria had stumbled to the floor, shielding herself when she realized..

Oh no.

Damien was there.

And the angered drunk was now pissed as he yanked the knife out from the table and slashed it towards the other man's face.

"Bastard! What the hell do you think you're doing!?"

Damien locked eyes with the visibly inebriated man, narrowing his gaze as the man's bloodshot eyes met his own. With subtle movements, Damien adeptly evaded the erratic swings of the knife, causing the aggressor to lose balance and stumble forward. Demonstrating calculated precision, Damien seized the man's arm with a powerful grip, compelling him to relinquish the blade to the cold floor. Swiftly, he clasped the top of the man's head, forcefully guiding him downward to collide with the unyielding table surface. The echoing impact reverberated through the cacophony of laughter and clinking glasses in the crowded bar, leaving the once-aggressive figure slumped on the ground in a state of unconscious surrender.

Observing the man on the ground for a brief moment to confirm he wouldn't rise again, Damien retrieved his knife from the floor and smoothly sheathed it. Shifting his gaze to Missendria, a small smile played on his lips involuntarily.

"Fancy meeting you here, Heels," he remarked softly.

After such a display, she could only gape. Catch just smoothly took out the drinking offender in short order, leaving the man slumped on his face on the floor.

"Fancy ain't exactly the word for it.." she went ok, hesitantly as she kept her eyes on him. At least fancy wasn't a term she'd ever use at the Mud House.

His gaze softened as it fell upon her, and he opened his mouth to speak, but the words eluded him. How could he express the complex emotions swirling within him—the shared experience, her hidden motives, the name etched in his book? Amidst the chaos, he hadn't found a moment to untangle the web of conflicting thoughts, yet he couldn't deny her presence lingered in his mind.

"I wasn't sure if I would ever see you again," he confessed, his voice carrying a quiet sincerity.

However, any chance for a joyous reunion or lingering embrace was swiftly overshadowed by the pressing demands of the moment.

"I'm happy you're okay," he added, a hint of genuine warmth in his words. "Unfortunately, I need to go. I have some.. business.. to attend to."

It was too complicated to explain exactly how she was feeling at that moment. Something made her heart flutter- her stomach too- until awkward knots sought to Snuff out those feelings. She was hoping to never run into him again yet..here they were.


And apparently there he was .... going to go.

She scoffed at that.

"Isn't that what the mystery woman is supposed to say?" She told him, smirking as she gave a tilt of her head. "Because turns out now I have business to attend to as well."

She then thought back to the woman he had been with and couldn't help herself but to add, "Just.. try not to do that in the closet again," She went on, tossing him a coy wink as she slunk on by. "I'd like to consider that our special business secret."

She held his eyes just a moment before making her way towards the door.

A smile played across his lips; an intriguing thought crossed his mind—was she, perhaps, jealous?

Maintaining his gentle smile, he reached out, lightly capturing her arm, patiently waiting for their eyes to meet. "Don't worry," he reassured her in a soft tone. "Just a friend. I reserve the closet for dealings for something more."

Releasing her arm, he offered one final quiet smile before gracefully exiting the establishment.

---

Once outside, his focus shifted to the estate. Thoughts about Missendria could be sifted through later; priority now lay in ensuring the safety of his people.

She hated the fact her entire arm covered in goose flesh at his touch. This wasn't some day romance story. If anything, it'd like be a drama or horror story when the day was through.

But something about the way he looked, acted, tasted..


Okay- she had to start thinking about something else. Like.. how he purposefully mentioned the other girl was just a friend.

Damn it.  Was she blushing? Once she stepped outside, she released a sigh- thankful the air was much cooler here than the stuffy Mud house.  And now that they were both outside, she was pretending not to notice or care.

She's going to follow me again, isn't she?

Damien's internal smile flickered at the prospect, though simultaneously, he harbored a wish for anything but that. The burden he'd inadvertently placed on her was already substantial, and it appeared that trouble was becoming a constant companion wherever he ventured. Necessity dictated a discreet course of action moving forward.

Adopting a deliberate, unhurried pace, he strolled down the road, smiling wistfully to himself. Soon, he executed a swift turn around one corner and then another, gradually disappearing into the labyrinth of dark alleys.

His destination was clear: the estate, a location he could reach in under an hour if no unforeseen obstacles barred his way.

Missendria cursed. It was hard to keep up with him and she soon lost his trail, left alone in the dark back alleyways of the city. She couldn't believe her rotten luck this night and swatted at some flies that buzzed about over some gross pile of something in the corner. 

She debated ending her pursuit- it would be safer for Damien.. except.. well..

She'd worry about Thaedys later. In all honesty, she just wanted to go home, curl up in bed and sleep for the night.

Fate had other things in mind, for as a tall shadow stepped outside of the alleyway corner, she actually laughed. 

"Damien.. you know you make it hard to keep up."

But soon the bright light in her eyes and smile faded as she realized just who the man was standing before her.

"Hello, Missendria. Did you miss me?"

She slowly took a few steps back, then nearly slipped over the gross thing on thr cobblestones.  The flies buzzed angrily as she finally got a good look at it, and nearly screamed as the bloody head of a woman lay half smashed to a pulp at her feet.

It was all the distraction he needed before he was ontop of her, slamming her against the alleyway wall.

"I knew you were something special.. ever since I saw you at the ball.." he went on, stroking her hair and allowing the golden locks to curl within his fingers. She grimaced as he leaned forward, taking in her scent with a sound of satisfaction. 

"Now it seems it's my turn to make you very special to our dear friend Theodore. Had I known all of these... delicious secrets.." he went on, head lowered to admire her breasts- they threatened to spill out from her tight fitting garb.  He gave a pull of those tight laced strings to free them. And his smile grew.

"That little song you sang to him in the closet.." he went on, kissing cold kisses up her throat as a hand enjoyed the softness of her breasts. "Will you sing that same song for me?"

Damien arrived at the estate ahead of schedule, a welcome surprise. It seemed he had successfully eluded Missendria, or perhaps she chose not to pursue him. The fleeting disappointment of being unable to share more with her cast a temporary shadow over his expression. However, his focus shifted abruptly as he noticed something amiss upon reaching the grand staircase that led to the house's entrance.

A faint scent of burning reached his nostrils, prompting an involuntary curse under his breath. Quickening his pace, he raced towards the front door with a sense of urgency.

As he flung open the door, there were no flames in sight, but the acrid odor of smoke lingered heavily in the air. A chilling sight awaited him; sprawled on the floor was one of his trusted servants, a friend deeply involved in their clandestine operations. The scene was horrifying, with the lifeless body lying in a pool of blood, the throat stilled, and the once vibrant eyes now vacant and devoid of life.

"No," he exhaled heavily, the weight of realization sinking in. He had arrived too late, and a surge of tears threatened to well up in his eyes. His face contorted with a turbulent mix of grief and seething anger.

The pool of blood was just the beginning of what else awaited him within, for were his eyes to look up upon the Grand staircase he might find a familiar piece of clothe on one stair.. a cut lock of golden hair up on another... then a familiar shoe....

The rest of which disappeared into the shadows at the top.  But were he not to move- a small rain drop of blood might just land upon him...

Which would have fallen from the woman bound and half naked and bloodied from the crystal chandelier above. 

Regrettably, mourning for his fallen comrade had to be set aside; there were more lives in the estate, their fates unknown. The acrid scent of smoke intensifying, a stark indicator that time was slipping away. Urgency seized him.

Then, the scene unfolded before him—a single drop of blood staining the floor. His gaze rose, dread clawing at his chest as he discovered her: Missendria, bound by rope and suspended from the chandelier.

"No, no, no," he uttered in frantic repetition, breaths turning labored at the horrifying sight. Moving swiftly, he ignited his own fire, directing it at the bindings until they sizzled and snapped, sending her into his waiting arms before placing her onto the ground.

"No, no, no," he pleaded once more, cradling her, desperation etching his features. "Wake up! Wake up, you foolish woman! Wake up!"

Frustration surged through him. What had he done wrong? How could he have been so careless? Why did he feel so powerless?!

Self-directed curses echoed in his mind as he grappled with the consequences. Unyielding, he attempted healing spells, even if his mastery of such magic was haphazard at best. The effects seemed negligible.

"Please," he begged, panic etching lines on his face, eyes ablaze with despair. "Please wake up!" The weight of his own impotence bore down on him, a gut-wrenching realization that time and circumstance may have robbed him of any chance to save her.

There was a soft groan after a moment of him cradling her. She doesn't even open her eyes- she hadn't the strength. 

"Easy does it.. Catch.." she said, a smile trembling on her lips. "But now I think.. the nickname isn't  so foolish.."

She was straining to speak and finally opened her eyes- or rather just one violet eye- the other was crusted over with blood.

"S.. sorry I came over without an invitation. "

A tear traced a path down his cheek, and a wave of relief surged through his chest. Joking at a time like this felt very Missendria.

"Hey, you're okay," he whispered, the reassurance as much for himself as for her. "You're okay now."

Gently moving stray strands away from her face, he studied her to assess the extent of the damage. The sight didn't sit well with him, and the initial relief metamorphosed into a fiery anger.

"Stay still for me," he urged, attempting to maintain composure though his voice hinted at the brewing rage. "Who did this to you?"

She went to answer him and before she knew it-


She was spitting up blood.
Well.. that was never a good sign...

She groaned and simply closed her eyes. It hurt..
But he needed to know..


"It was Edric.." she revealed, coughing up more blood. "And I think.. think he might still be here.. plotting.. a.. trap for you.." she winced, the pain was terrible.

But she gripped onto his hand and held on fierce.  She sought out his eyes.

"Dont.. don't let him win.. Damien.. he.. don't fall for it."

Edric Eamon.

Of course.

The one that slipped away, once again. Why did that wretched man get to live after the horrors he'd unleashed? To his mother, to countless women, and now to Missendria. The mere thought of him threatened to plunge Damien into a blind rage, a perilous path he couldn't afford to tread, especially after her timely warning.

Offering her a reassuring smile, Damien swiftly maneuvered, sliding his arm beneath her legs, lifting her form, and placing one of her arms over his shoulder - a determined resolve etched on his face.

"I'm getting you the hells out of here," he declared, his decision firm.

Right on cue, the sound of an approaching voice, accompanied by frantic footsteps, reached Damien's ears. One of his staff members emerged through the smoke, slightly limping. "Lola!" he cried, attempting to close the distance. "The house is on fire! We have to evacuate!"

A surge of relief washed over Damien at the sight of a friend still standing. "The others?" he questioned swiftly.

"Only John and Patricia made it out," the man responded solemnly. "They're already outside."

"Understood, I-"

"It was Edric," the man interjected, echoing Missendria's confirmation. "He and his men..."

"I know," Damien interrupted. "I know, but right now, I need you to gather the others and go to Home. I'm taking the girl; tell Adella to prepare the treatment room."

"Damien, I..."

The man struggled to find words, met with Damien's resolute gaze. "There will be time for sorrow later," he said firmly. "Go."

With that, the man hastily exited the building, leaving Damien and Missendria to follow suit, the advancing flames now claiming the upper floors.

She hated that she remained a limp, useless waif in his arms- no matter the fact she could have died.  But after a moment she squirmed in his arms.

"I.. I can try to walk." She knew she wasn't light weight at all. If anything, she knew she had curves- ones men drooled over anytime she passed. Curves were not on skinny girls. 

He offered a dry smile and maintained his hold on her. "Do me a favor," he spoke, his voice veiled in the politest and most delicate tone he could muster. "Shut up and let me help you."

She wasn't weightless, her form and figure in his arms reminiscent of a better time just days ago. Yet, she wasn't heavy either, and if he couldn't manage at least this for her...

"I'm doing this," he affirmed, his tone resolute.

At his command, she couldn't help but smile. 
"And what are you gonna do to me if I don't? Besides," She went on. "I've had worse than this."
Said the woman who might not be able to walk.

That elicited a smile from him, a touch mischievous. "Just wait until you're back to full health," he whispered, his eyes fixed ahead as they ventured into the expanse beyond the estate. "Then you'll see what I'll do to you."

It was a fleeting warmth on a cold and tragic night, his focus set on getting her to the underground city for the proper treatment of her wounds.

At that- she laughed- inspite of the moment and how much it hurt.

"You think.. after that sex we had in the closet... you're going to make me wait?"

And yes, inspite of it all, she was truly smiling.

"Catch.. the second we're alone we're going at that again."

Because by the gods, that sex has been crazy.  By Kia's Name it had been good.

He smiled, gently tugging her closer while cradling her in his arms. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

——

After a challenging trek, navigating alleys and corners not far from the Mud House, they arrived at a discreet metal door. Damien's muscles burned from carrying her, but his determination to keep her safe overruled any offers to set her down. And there were multiple offers from what he remembered.

In the dimly lit alley, Damien knocked twice, waited, and then repeated the pattern. A slit in the door shifted open, revealing an unknown man on the other side.

"The night sky wears the moon as a pendant," the man whispered.

"And I shall await you at the dock," Damien replied.

The door slid open abruptly, allowing Damien to hurry inside with Missendria in his arms. It promptly locked behind them.

"Adella has the treatment room ready for your friend," the man by the door informed them.

Damien nodded in acknowledgment, guiding Missendria down the narrow, dimly lit hallway. People in their rooms looked on with expressions ranging from sorrow for the loss to concern for the woman in his arms. One woman, visibly battered and bruised, sat up from her bed to observe.

The rooms and the entire facility were utilitarian, constructed of rusted metal and iron with no windows. Dim candles lined the walkway, casting flickering shadows.

As they neared the medical room, Damien spoke to her, "Missendria, welcome to the city of survivors."

She wasn't sure what to expect, but this certainly wasn't it. From where she was held within hid arms she took on a look of wonder.

"Has this been here the whole time? Beneath the city and all our noses?"

It was hard to believe- but then a part of her felt sick at the information. Did her boss know about this? Just her knowing this risked this whole city.

She tried to forget about it. What was important was they were alive and out of danger.

Damien hesitated, reluctant to bring her into their secret underground sanctuary, but given her condition and the circumstances, it seemed unavoidable. She asked questions, and he pondered carefully how best to answer them.

"It's been here for a few years now," he admitted. "We provide refuge to survivors of people like Edric, offering them food and a safe place to sleep. Also, we make our plans down here for... well, you know. My moonlighting."

He didn't leave much room for a response before guiding her into a treatment room and gently placing her on a bed. Several people were in the room, ready to tend to her wounds.

"We have doctors and healing mages who offer their services here," Damien explained. "They'll fix you up in no time. In the meantime, I need to go meet with my contact. Will you be okay for a bit without me?"

Missendria looked around the place with scrutiny.  She was admiring it at first, but old habits were hard to kick. After all, she always had to watch out for her own back.

She looked towards the others ready to help her before tossing a grim back to Damien.

"I've survived this long," She teased, but nodded. "Just don't leave me for too long. I'm.. not exactly a fan of new places."

He held her hand for a moment, his gaze searching hers, and he offered a regretful smile. He did not feel good leaving her behind. By the hells, he didn't feel good about any of this. Yet, it was inevitable. Conversations with Adella awaited—discussions about the unfolding events, the fate of the fallen, and the strategies needed now that Edric had exposed his identity and gained an advantage.

He released her hand, proceeding towards the exit. Pausing briefly in the doorway, he quietly conversed with one of the doctors. "Show her to my room when you've finished," he whispered.

——

Following his discussion with Adella, Damien entered his room in the underground city. Similar to the others, it had its own unique touches. The bed, accommodating for one person, was a bit tight for two. A station stood nearby for him to brew his coffee, and an adjoining room provided facilities for cleansing the dirt and blood from his skin.

Seated on the bed with the door ajar, Damien waited patiently for Missendria, hoping she hadn't decided to slip away.

It took far longer than she'd have liked, but by the time they were done treating her- she started to feel like herself again. Her clothing was tattered and she was offered a simple gown to change into. 

It was strange to wear it, even more so than that fancy dress. It was actually modest and she couldn't help but think she looked like a sweet church girl.

By then she has been guided to Damien's room, where, she paused awkwardly at the entry way when she saw him.

His eyes brightened like a kid with a school boy crush upon seeing her, and a playful grin then formed on his lips as he noticed the gown she wore.

"Welcome to my humble abode," he exclaimed, gesturing for her to enter. "Don't you look adorable?"

"Do you want me to kick you in the dick?" She paused, sauntering on in and taking in the details of his room. It was quaint. Utilitarian, but modest for what it was. She tip toed fingers across a table before turning back to him, grinning coyly.  "Because that's how you get kicked in the dick."

She then gestured ,"Nice place. Got this all to yourself?"

"I see you're feeling better," he said with a playful grin before standing to close and lock the door behind her. "You guessed it. All mine. Not bad for a noble such as myself, don't ya think?"

She rolled her eyes at him and didn't miss that he locked the door.  It made her tense- a reflex- but then she smirked.

She was walking around his room, touching this and that with idle interest. She noted the one room and raised a brow.

"A private bathing room? That's pretty nice." She waltzed up to the brass tub. The room was decent sized- with a wash bin and stool. Her fingers sliding along the lip of the brass tub before she smiled over at him.

"I might need to take advantage of this "

Gods, what she wouldn't give for a hot soak.

He observed her movements with a mixture of caution and desire, unable to ignore the fact that her name was in his ominous book. Despite the lingering mystery, he found solace in her safety and a growing desire for her company.

"You read my mind; it's been a long day."

With a deliberate slowness, he raised aching muscles to peel off his shirt, baring the myriad of scars and wounds that painted the narrative of his history and occupation. His pants remained as he approached the tub, orchestrating the water to the perfect temperature with a touch of elemental prowess.

In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, as if the night held no traces of death and everything was momentarily right with the world.

Why did this woman, who he barely knew, have such a strong hold on him?

Oh she was glad he took his time. She savored the way he moved, his fit body a story with scars. Then he moved and she felt.. heat? She smirked and leaned over the bath
"Neat trick. Is the rest of you all this hot and magical?" She eyed his pants coyly. 

Her fingers touched the water. Ohh.. a nice,hot temperature.  


"It's good to see you have a nice body to look at. I mean, in that closet was nice and I could drink your body in with my hands but... " she looked up at him with a wink. "It's nice to see the goods, is all."

The tub was now full, and he shot her a suggestive smile. "You're one to talk," he remarked before closing the distance, his hand finding its place on her lower back, drawing her into the embrace of his chest. "Have you seen your body?"

His touch moved to her shoulders, a gentle massage accompanied by an unwavering gaze locked onto hers. In one fluid motion, he skillfully removed the straps, allowing the gown to cascade freely to the floor.

"Get in," he whispered, slowly removing his belt. "The water's perfect."

Her grin turned smug at his remark.  Naturally she'd bask in that compliment. 
But then.. as he drew her near and she got to feel that body again...

One moment she was dressed and the next- her dress pooled at her feet. She gasped, feigning modesty but simply laughed as she shook her head. 

"Very well.." she went on, eyeing him as he worked at his pants.  One leg stepped into the tub, then the other before she sank into it with a soft moan.

He could have blushed at the sight of her body, but he worked hard to remain composed. Her beauty was undeniable, her figure unmatched by any other woman he had seen. She certainly made him feel a certain way.

With one more motion, he slipped the pants off his legs, fully exposing himself to Missendria. He shot her a playful look, feigning modesty, teasing her with the expectation of her response, before settling into the roomy tub across from her.

"We've come a long way since our closet days," he winked.

She let herself openly appreciate his body, one eye obscured by heavy locks of her hair.

"Yeah.. now we have this roomy bath instead," She jested, stretching out her legs so they nestled against his.

Now that they were both exposed to light, versus the darkness of a closet, he might notice her body was hardly perfect. Sure, her shape may have seemed like perfection.. but...
Even fresh wounds aside, it was obvious her own body shared many scarred stories , like his.

Her body was perfect.

Damien appreciated every scar, each wound, and the stories etched into her skin – imperfections that, to him, constituted perfection. His thoughts were laid bare in his eyes as he observed her, his hands gently tracing the contours of her legs as she extended them towards him.

"So.. seems you're part of quite the operation here." She smiled but it was more fake this time, cool.. collected. 

"I won't ask for details- and it's probably wise not to go into too much detail.. but I will say this.." she went on, her own hand idly tracing over his calf. "You saved my life. Twice now. I owe you at least this secret for you to keep "

He offered her a wry smile. "I have many secrets," he began. "Maybe I should make a habit of saving your life more often."

Sensing her touch on his leg, he leaned in, taking her hands in his, drawing her nearer as water spilled over the tub's edge. Lust gleamed in his eyes, his focus locked onto her lips.

"However," he murmured softly, a tingling sensation coursing through him as he took her in. "I'd much prefer if you weren't in harm's way, either."

She gasped, finding herself falling forward and upon him as he drew her close. The warm waters splashed between them as she smirked up at that look.

"Then should I leave the bath?" She teased, curling onto his open lap and leaning forward. She was a breath away, eye lids hanging low as she returned his smolder. 

"I'd be pretty sad if you did," he whispered, gently kissing her neck.

Gods. He wanted her.

Wary of overdoing it after what she had just been through, he chose a more delicate approach. His fingers traced her cheek, guiding her face to meet his before kissing her lips. Simultaneously, his other hand dipped beneath the water, exploring between her legs.

"I don't want to hurt you," he teased as his forehead rested on hers, a playful tone masking that his words were the truth. Both her recent injuries and the haunting thoughts of her name in his book lingered in the recesses of his mind.

She gasped as his fingers found the heat between her legs and her eyes fluttered close. She moaned softly, hips lightly rocking against his curious fingers as they explored.

For that moment she couldn't think and just let herself fall into the moment, making soft noises as she sunk teeth into her lips.

"This.. doesn't.. " she panted. "Doesn't seem like it could hurt me."

"Yeah, but I think a softer touch is in order."

His voice, low and flirtatious, carried a touch of mischief. While one hand continued its work, the other rose into the air to weave a spell. His innate water mage abilities proved invaluable in this moment.

Gradually, the water in the tub floated upward, stopping just below their necks and leaving the bottom completely empty—just enough room for him to breathe. He withdrew his hand from her, planted another kiss on her lips, then gracefully moved to the other side before kneeling down in precisely the right position.

The softer touch came in the form of his tongue, and tonight, he wasn't going to leave her wanting.

She stiffened instinctively as the water's rose. What was his game here? Mages tended to put her on edge but then he kissed her and she melted, making a soft noise as his lips pulled away.

And then he moved between her legs and she gasped. At first it made her squirm, as she had not expected it. But then she was gripping onto the edge of the bath as her toes curled and her body leaned into his minstrations with a soft noise of appreciation. 

In that moment, Damien reveled in a newfound sense of control, his deft touch guiding her into a world of pleasure. With her legs pressed against his face, he explored her with a tongue that seemed to discover uncharted territories, and her muffled moans became the torch the lit the way for his exploration.

His arm slid through the suspended water, tracing the contours of her body, until his hand found hers, squeezing tight in a rhythm synchronized with his movements.

"Missendria," he called to her in a voice that was low, breathy, and teasing. "I need you to feel good."

Her eyes rolled back as she felt his tongue move within her, tasting her, lapping at her and building that pleasure within.  She squirmed at the attentions, face flushed as she moaned.

Then she heard his words and couldn't help but release a breathy laugh before she moaned.

"Well..: she panted. "You're going in the right direction." Her other hand moved to rake through his hair. "Gods.. that tongue..."

The night persisted, a sultry and fervent affair that left Damien's jaw a bit tender. He poured everything into that night with Missendria, a blend of desire for her and an attempt to drown out the haunting events preceding their arrival at the survivor city.

Grieving wasn't Damien's forte; instead, he channeled his sorrow into anger and a relentless pursuit of vengeance, the driving force behind his chosen profession.

In the midst of that night, he lost good people, yet the saving grace remained in Missendria. A silver lining tarnished by the realization that her predicament traced back to his choices.

Post-"bath," if you could call it that, Damien discreetly entered the room, letting Missendria complete her grooming routine. He refrained from sleeping in the nude, always prepared for unexpected calls to action, but embraced a level of comfort.

Clad in semi-fitted cotton pants, ideal for both rest and agile movement, he forwent a shirt as he settled onto the bed, atop the covers, stretching out his legs. As Missendria tended to herself in the washing area, Damien perused through his book.

The initial page of his black book held a compilation of names: targets, both existing and completed, individuals of interest, and similar entries. Beyond that, each subsequent page was dedicated solely to one name, accompanied by Damien's sketches – he had developed a knack for drawing. These entries included notes on the individuals' personalities, last known locations, preferred methods of torture, and any other relevant details Damien deemed useful.

On the final page with substantial content, there lay a lifelike sketch of Missendria. Her name, the scant information he possessed, and his conflicted emotions towards her filled the space. He hastily scrawled "why her?" on the page, pausing to reflect as his eyes traversed the written musings.

As he heard her stirring, it seemed she was about to enter the room. Damien promptly closed the book, placing it on the bedside table beside him.

"Feeling better?" he inquired, sensing her presence as he directed his gaze towards the ceiling.

She knew she shouldn't have. She knew she couldn't have... yet she did it anyway.  She had opened a raw moment of intimacy- one easily feeding her years of repressed hunger and desire. She had sworn off men for good reasons- love only having gotten her in trouble.. and in her current, cursed predicament. 

But for now she reveled in the after glow, stretching out lazily as she entered the room in nothing but a loose sheet around her form. Her hair had been pulled back, keeping it's dampness from her shoulders except the few loose curls that had sprung loose and hung about her face.

At his words, she simply gave him a playfully sharp look. 

"I didn't realize I looked so awful before," She flirted. She eyed him, then began to take in the room, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, only for her to turn her head as it freed itself. She noted her dress and walked over to where it lay and contemplated if it was worth getting dressed... or would it just get discarded again that night?

She smirked at the thought and casually leaned against a desk. 

"It's so strange being here. No windows.. but we're underground.. how do you know what time of day it is?"

His attention shifted to her entrance, his eyes brightening as they traced her scantily covered figure. A suppressed smile played on his lips, masking the joy he felt at her presence. For some reason or another, showing her just how happy she made him was something he wanted to avoid.. at least for the time being.

Despite the on-paper reality that she was may have just been another job, his heart whispered a different narrative. He couldn't deny the growing attraction, his expressions likely betraying his emotions with every glance.

"Oh, pumpkin," he teased, a mix of playfulness and affection in his voice. "You always look amazing, you just look even better in my bedroom."

A subtle gaze diversion towards the ceiling masked the intensity of his feelings. "And not to worry on that front," he sighed. "Adella is the timekeeper around here. No rest when there's work to be done."

A contemplative pause lingered before he spoke of the night's arrangement. "You're staying here tonight," he asserted, the suggestion thinly veiled. "Beyond that, you're welcome to keep staying here. You'd be... I mean, it would make me.. well, you know."

His words faltered, a familiar struggle in moments like these. In reality, he wanted her to stay with him, driven not solely by concern for her safety but also by selfish motives—an insatiable curiosity to unravel the layers of her story and the solace she effortlessly brought to the void of loneliness within him.

She smirked at that, cheeks turning pink against her will.

'No rest indeed..' she thought.

"Are you sure that's wise?" She asked, turning away from him as she slipped off the towel- letting him get a good view of her back side as she bent down to hang the sheet and pick up her dress. 

There was many implications to that, but she said it playfully as she took her sweet time getting dressed. There wasn't much to the simple dress, yet she somehow drew out each step.

Damien's gaze lingered on her as she adorned herself, a palpable desire emanating from his eyes. She knew exactly what she was doing, and he was beginning to love that about her.

Seizing the moment, he gracefully slipped off the bed, approaching her silently from behind. His hands found their place on her shoulders, fingers weaving a delicate massage of comfort and intimacy. "It is wise," he murmured, his lips brushing against her neck, a confident acknowledgment of the calculated charm she wielded.

Allowing his hands to trace from her shoulders to the curve of her waist, he embraced her from behind, his cheek finding a soft resting place against hers. "Especially considering our current predicament," he began, alluding to the challenge posed by Edric. "I believe it would be safest for you here. Between us, there's a world of possibilities to explore until we address our little problem." His words, spoken with a blend of assurance and sensuality, hung in the air, leaving an enticing promise in their wake.

She shivered at his attentions. It.. he...
How could she explain it? She'd had lovers in the past, certainly, even sacrificed her freedom for a man she thought was.. well.. love. Turned out all those relationships paled in comparison to the fire Damien stoked in her now.

Just the way he touched her, looked at her.. treated her...

It was almost too good to be true. 


She'd have to be careful. She was letting too many masks fall around him and too quickly. She didn't want to to turn out...

No.. she didn't want to think about that. Damien...

She hardly knew him. She had to remind herself that. And apparently her boss didn't know the man, either.

"So.. what you're saying is.." she went on, giving a soft laugh as she lifted a hand to gently caress the side of his face. She leaned into him, into that secure feeling of his body against hers. "That I'm stuck in here.. all night?" She movednto turn around, purposefully slow, and draped her arms over his shoulder as she looked into his eyes.

"Whatever shall I do? Sounds boring to be cooped up in thrse tunnels all day," She protested with a flirty little pout.

He locked eyes with her adorable pout, responding with a seductive smile that hinted at something more. Closing the distance, he planted a kiss on her lips—a tantalizing blend of unhurried tenderness and smoldering passion.

"Boring, you say?" he inquired, his voice dripping with playful insinuation. With a mischievous gesture toward the firmly shut bedroom door, as impenetrable as the building itself, he focused his attention back on her. "These doors? Completely sealed from the outside world. Sound-proof," he disclosed with a wicked twinkle in his eye. "Maybe we should see just how loud we can get. That is, unless you have a different idea of excitement."

Her cheeks.. and well whole body flushed at his response. She turned her gaze away, smiling and eyes dancing with amusement and heat.

"Oh? And what type of card game or parlor trick would require just the two of us to having a shouting match?"

Anticipation tingled through his body as he looked at her with desire. "No tricks this time," he smirked, his hands gently grazing her waist and tracing down to her thighs. "Just you and me."

In a sudden move, he lifted her, his arms supporting her legs so she may wrap them around him, and he pressed a hungry kiss on her lips.

She gasped, startled as she found her arms and legs wrapping around him. As their lips met, she let out a moan and pressed herself flush to him. And she found herself moaning, one hand raking through his hair as she kissed him over and over again. 


"I.." she puffed the word through kisses. ". Think this very well.." Another kiss, slipping in a little teasing wriggle of her tongue. "Counts as a.." Her lips smothered him, tongue slipping inside his mouth to wrestle against his. And she moaned, pressing herself into him as finger nails raked down his back..

"Trick." She finished breathlessly, lips quivering against his as she rest her forehead to his 

He lifted her, enveloped in a storm of kisses, and gently pressed her against the wall, supporting her weight with his arms. The simplicity of her dress and his slip-on pants made the transition seamless, sparing them the effort of shedding layers.

With his pants down, he entered her, the warmth embracing him tightly as he thrust into her, holding her suspended in the air. Foreheads pressed together, his eyes revealed an insatiable hunger as he fervently gave in to his desires—a wild, primal dance.

As he surrendered to the intensity, a breathy laugh escaped him, playful and filled with delight. "Missendria," he moaned her name, repeating it with a seductive whisper in her ear.

"Scream for me."

Their passion had hardly cooled from their activities in the bath, and the fact his blood ran so hot for her again...

She clung to him with desperate need, moaning as their bodies united. God, he was too good at this. It felt too good and she could only oblige him as he pounded into her against the wall.

She wanted to tell him to join her, so their screams could join together but he was hitting such a sensitive spot all she could do was scream.

Their shared cries of pleasure filled the room, creating an intense symphony as he unleashed his passion like a wild force. Their harmonious moans and the rhythmic slapping of their bodies echoed against the steel walls, creating a tunnel of ecstasy.

Craving more, he lifted her off the wall, their bodies entwined as he hurried them to the bed. In the shuffle, a cascade of objects tumbled, including his bedside table and his book that flung open to a random page.

He tossed her onto the bed, swiftly turning her over as he took her from behind. The rhythmic slapping fueled his desire to intensify their connection.

Suddenly, a buzzer rang, and a red light illuminated near the door. Someone was outside.

"Now, really?" he thought, attempting to drown out the interruption with his relentless pursuit of her.

"They'll have to wait," he declared breathily, determined to continue despite the intrusion. The allure of the moment was too compelling to halt.

Her back against the wall was hardly comfortable , especially considering he was thrusting his body mercilessly into her. It just felt too damn good- thr man's sex ramming into her own over and over again.

She moaned his name, breathing catching at the sudden light. She clung to him.

"D.. Damien.. what's that light?" She asked, their bodies still rolling together as she buried her face against his shoulder, to muffle her moan.

"It's nothing," he whispered, dismissing external distractions, focusing on the intense connection unfolding within the room. He was too close, and anything beyond that door could damn well wait.

Each powerful thrust intensified the moment, his lips locking onto hers as pressure built within him to an overwhelming peak.

"Fuck, I'm going to-"

Before he could utter the word, he surrendered to the rising crescendo, losing all control as he exploded within her.

——

Amidst the dimly lit underground corridors, Adella's fire-red eyes meticulously scanned a document delivered to her. The intel pointed to the whereabouts of one of their targets: Arvin Hagen. If her information held true, he would be attending a noble gathering party on a grand boat cruising the coastlines of Serendipity. With no updates on Edric, time was of the essence, leaving Adella with no choice but to act swiftly.

Despite a twinge of hesitation, fueled by the knowledge of that mysterious woman in Damien's room, Adella pushed aside personal concerns. Urgency prevailed, and she embarked on a determined walk down the corridors to Damien's quarters. Sharing a room with a person of interest didn't align with Adella's priorities, especially when a critical mission awaited.

Upon reaching Damien's door, Adella rang the buzzer, the urgency of the situation propelling her actions. Yet, the ominous silence lingered. She rang again, growing impatient, until finally deciding to take matters into her own hands. The door swung open, revealing a scene that oozed of unforeseen complications.

——

The buzzer had chimed two, maybe three times, Damien managing to momentarily banish it from his thoughts in the throes of passion. Yet, just as their fervor peaked, the door swung open.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, hastily grabbing the quilt to shield Missendria, even though he hadn't even pulled out of her yet.

"Damien!" Adella's sharp tone cut through the moment, a blush coloring her cheeks as she averted her gaze. "Put your clothes on and get out here now!"

How many times would the pair be...interrupted when trying to be intimate? She had been in mid scream- riding out her high off his hot, exploding cock, when she realized another was in the room and.. it was the other woman.

Missendria was completely flushed, from exertion- and embarrassment- as she shrunk behind the blanket and Damien's form.

She barely heard what the other woman barked but..
She avoided her gaze, not sure what she ought to do or even think as she looked up at Damien, squirming on his cock since well.. they were both very much still connected and she.. still very much full of his seed.

"Damien!" Adella's frustrated call pierced the air.

"Adella!" Damien snapped back, his voice a mix of frantic and anger. "Can't you ever knock?!"

"I rang!" she replied, her face still flushed from what she had witnessed.

Despite the urge to continue the argument, Damien huffed in exasperation. He awkwardly shifted off Missendria, a warm sticky aftermath clinging to him. He threw her an apologetic glance before attempting to remedy the situation, even if only slightly. Damien's dangly cock did its natural thing as he shuffled to pull his pants on. Hurrying to the bath area, he returned almost immediately with a towel, a gesture for the woman he had just filled to the brim.

Tossing the towel onto the bed as he passed her, he aimed to give her a moment to recover from the ordeal. "Out," he simply stated, guiding Adella out of the frame until they were both outside his quarters. He shut the door, granting Missendria some time to recuperate.

Missendria visibly winced at their antics. Couldn't the shouting wait? She wasn't exactly a prude herself but she also wasn't someone that just wanted the world to see her being intimate. 

She juggled the blanket and towel, shrinking back towards a corner but unable to keep her gaze off the pair that shr nearly tripped over something beneath her feet.

Huh- an open journal...


Momentarily distracted, and thankful for it, she reached down and took a look at the open page. Was this some sort of ledger- 

No.. a list...

Edric 's name was on there and she felt a cold chill settle in her belly about what had happened. Somehow.. the corpse had disappeared.. or even worse..

The man could still be alive.

But then she noted another familiar name on the list and nearly dropped the book.

Why was his  name on there!? How did Damien.. why did he...

Obrin Majhk.

The ice that went through her veins was enough to make her sick. She swallowed back the nausea, mind racing, hand shaking as her eyes and mind frantically went to anything else. 

Then she noted a name that was marked differently and a question. 

Her eyes widened as she froze.

Her name..


Why was her name mentioned on this list!?

"Damien, why in the hells are you sleeping with that woman?!"

Adella's entrance into Damien's quarters was met with a scene that sparked a storm within her. The tension in her posture betrayed the anger brewing beneath the surface as she glared at Damien, who seemed caught off guard. Her scolding words cut through the air, each syllable a sharp reminder of his reckless actions. Despite her attempts to maintain composure, the furrowed brow and clenched fists betrayed the storm of emotions swirling within. The hallway just outside the room bore witness to an unexpected clash between duty, frustration, and a personal connection that Adella couldn't entirely conceal.

"It's not that simple," he replied flatly. "Missendria is... I mean, she isn't..." Words failed Damien in the moment, unsure how to properly communicate his thoughts on the matter. Yes, she was a person of interest, and yes, her name was supplied in his book. However, that intel could be wrong! It was wrong, he was certain of it. Besides, to Damien, Missendria was...

"Are you in love with her?" Adella asked sharply, cutting off his train of thought.

Damien went to speak, but once again, he could not. His face likely gave Adella all the information she needed to know.

Dismissing him with a scoff, she interjected, "We'll discuss that later. I've got intel on Arvin Hagen for you. Act fast if you're going through with this."

"Another job," he muttered. "Now? What about..."

Adella responded, aware of his thoughts. "She remains here or accompanies you. We can't risk her being out of our sight. You know this."

Adella shared the details with Damien about Arvin's future location and the necessary steps to remove him from their list. His upcoming task seemed to involve more than just dry land. The lingering question: What to do with Missendria?

——

Returning to his quarters, Damien discovered Missendria, her face drained of color as though she had encountered a ghost.

"What's wrong?"

She hadn't heard him return and nearly jumped  out of her skin, the book in her hand took flight and- she flinched back when the damn thing smashed clean into Damien's face.

She cupped her hands over her mouth in alarm.

A resounding thud interrupted his thoughts.

"Ah! What the fu-" his initial reaction, stars aligning in his vision as he felt the burn on his skin from being struck by something.

As his eyes located the source, his heart sank momentarily—it was his book. Had she been reading it...?

Way to go, Damien.

He gradually crouched down, keeping his eyes on her, before scooping up the book and holding it close to his side.

"Doing some reading?" he asked, his voice balancing between caution and quiet panic.

She just stared at him- dumb founded and her mind panicking.  Her name had been in that book. Was she to be next on his hit list.

But instead of being coy and playing it off- she pointed an accusing finger and demanded, "Why is my name in that book?"

She ground her teeth and tensed herself for his reply, hands clenching into fists.

Damien cautiously took a step closer, one hand extended defensively while the other clutched his book. Despite his proximity, he maintained a comfortable distance for her, displaying a conscious effort to avoid intimidation. The next move required careful consideration.

He contemplated explaining, crafting a narrative that might excuse the situation, but opted against it. She deserved the truth, not a fabrication.

Gently rubbing his jaw, still feeling the aftermath of the impact, he finally spoke, his voice low and attempting to be disarming. "You tell me," he said. "This book compiles its initial list from our intel. I don't choose which names are originally entered. So, what have you done to attract the attention of my line of work?"

Really.. really? He was going to pin this back on her!?

"I'm on your hit list, Damien!" She shouted, tossing her hands into the air. "But apparently opening my legs to you just got me into trouble. If the sex was that bad," She continued on, words cutting. "You shouldn't have kept trying to get back in there!"

Anger flared within her eyes as so many wild conclusions flared up.

"You were just using me weren't you!? And to think-" her eyes burned with tears as she looked away. "I don't know what I thought." She laughed coldly, and mostly to herself. "Kia be damned, I'm a fool!"

"Using you?"

He struggled to find words, but eventually managed. His voice, low, shocked, and tinged with coldness, reflected his uncertainty on how to compose himself in that moment - whether to walk, stand, or sit.

Opting for the latter, he pulled a wooden chair back upright, a remnant from their earlier activities. Sitting down, he dropped the book to the ground with a muffled thud.

"Everything I worked for to get here," he declared, his eyes burning into hers. "Theodore. The life I built to do what I do without causing harm to the people I care about. Everything. Lost, compromised - because I couldn't stay away from you. Do you think I like that you're in this stupid book? I lov-"

He halted, eyes drifting to the floor. It was imprudent, he knew, but he said it anyway. After all, he barely knew her.

"I don't have time for this," he continued, breaking his silence before standing up and moving toward a chest of drawers. "I have work to do. Tell your boss whatever you need to."

His words stung, but so had hers. Given up his identity? Surely she couldn't be blamed for that. They had both been trying to hide away, fearful that they'd be caught over Edric's corpse and.. well, one thing lead to another and apparently fear could easily cloud her judgement.

She couldn't take it- nor help the way she reacted.  She was angry, upset- and those words hurt her far deeper than she'd have liked to admit. Too many times she had trusted, loved and...

Her vision blurred with tears. She wasn't going to just stick around after that. So she stormed off- not knowing where she was or even where to go in this damn maze of place but not wanting to be anywhere near him as tears streamed down her face. 

Kia, she was a fool.

In the dimly lit room, Damien moved mechanically, donning each article of clothing with a heavy heart. The air hung thick with the remnants of their argument, his mind replaying the harsh words exchanged. As he fastened the buttons of his shirt, he couldn't escape the weight of guilt that clung to him.

His hands paused, clenching into fists as the memories of their argument replayed in his mind. The urge to release the building tension surged within him. Without a second thought, Damien reached for the book that lay on the ground. In a moment of frustration, he hurled it across the room, the thud echoing his internal turmoil.

Acknowledging the turmoil he had stirred, he muttered to himself, "This is on me." His reflection in the mirror seemed to carry the weight of his own mistakes. Damien sighed, realizing the true source of the conflict wasn't just the external circumstances but his own actions.

Finishing dressing, he took a moment to collect himself.

It was probably already too late. He needed to move.

He strapped on his boots, collected his book, and departed.

It didn't take long for Missendria to make herself scarce. She had tried to make a mental map of the way out, just incase she had to leave this place on her own. Years of covering her own back, caring only for herself, forced her to keep these options open- always.

It did take her a few tries to remember the way, but once she was at rhe surface...

She had to forget she had even been there at all.

It was time to meet up with her boss again anyway. But by Kia's Court did she make too many mistakes. What was she doing? How could whe get so close to a man that  was her mark?

She couldn't completely lie to her boss...

However, apparently she wouldn't have to. It seemed he knew 'enough ' about this Theodore to know it was now some kind of a ruse and he had connections that the man wanted more details about.

Stubborn as she was.. shr tried to talk her way out of it- but after what she'd been through before- her initial rebuff was just hot air.


So it seemed she had to find 'Lord Theodore' again. And apparently it was more than obvious Missendria was starting to feel... close to this mark. Rather than get angry, her employer simply told her to keep it up..

But that she would eventually have to tell him everything- after all...

She signed the contract. And the world wide criminal mastermind Opus Dey owned her.

The moon cast an ethereal glow on the shimmering waters as Damien Lola slipped into the role of a shadow on the outskirts of Serendipity. Tonight, a lavish cruise hosted by the elusive Arvin Hagen promised a congregation of nobility. However, after his cover as Theodore had been compromised, Damien found himself morphing into a different guise — that of a discreet staff member.

Before boarding the opulent vessel, Damien had to make an unfortunate choice. A quick, unsuspecting staff member became the canvas for his disguise, and with practiced efficiency, he subdued the unfortunate soul and commandeered his attire. Now, as the staff member lay inconspicuously stowed away, Damien blended seamlessly into the ranks of those who were meant to serve.

Onboard, the air buzzed with anticipation as the boat navigated the moonlit waves. Damien, now clad in the borrowed uniform, moved gracefully among the guests, expertly providing drinks and maintaining an unobtrusive facade. His eyes, however, remained vigilant, honed in on Arvin Hagen — a target concealed within the sea of revelry.

Arvin was not the sole target for the night; another name lingered on the list — Obrin Mahjk. A name extracted from Adella's intel, someone Damien lacked experience with and whose appearance remained a mystery to him. He couldn't afford another encounter clouded by personal emotions; hopefully, he wouldn't find himself falling in love with this one too. 

As the night unfolded with dinners, drinks, and masked faces, Damien played his part in this sophisticated dance of deception. Little did the nobles know that amidst the polished service, a hidden force moved with purpose, ready to expose the secrets that lurked beneath the glittering surface of their elite gathering.

"Beverage, ma'am?" he asked, holding a plate of fine red wine as he approached a woman standing just a few feet from Arvin.

A hand cut him off, almost knocking the drink clean out of his hand. The man gave a tsk, eyeing Damien over scrutiningly .  He was a handsome enough fellow, almost too bland to be outrageously good looking, but he was easy on the eyes and held a certain type of charisma...

"No, no.. none for this woman," the man went on, almost possessively wrapping an arm around her as of to shield the woman from the servant.

"This one is no lady. Don't you know a slave when you see one?"

The collar the woman wore could have passed as some strange, clunky jewelry- but just being near the thing gave off an aura that would make even Damien hesitate and wish to back away.

But as the man shooed Damien off, he turned his attention down at the woman and placed a finger beneath her chin and forced her to look at him.


And if she had that ability- her venomous gaze would melt the damn man's face off.

"Isn't that right, my dear? And to think... fate brought us back together after all. And now.. you belong to me."

Shoo'd away some like sort of mangy dog. It made his blood boil.

Navigating the crowd, Damien's eyes remained locked on Arvin as he gracefully provided service to the guests. The noble needed isolation, a task seemingly simple with the intel Damien possessed. However, distraction clawed at him relentlessly.

The haunting memory of the interaction between the man and the woman loomed, an enigma he couldn't shake. Though he didn't get a clear look at her, something about her felt unnervingly familiar — her figure, her scent, her mere presence. A peculiar item adorned her neck that gave him unease, and the man's audacious reference to her as his slave unsettled Damien to his core.

Glancing back, patrons parted, granting a brief glimpse of her, and dread seized his heart. She appeared dolled up, more so than before, an unnatural facade that hinted at an unsettling truth. Frozen in place, she seemed like a mere reflection of her former self.

He hadn't seen her since their argument, and yet, here she was again. But something was terribly wrong.

"Missendria," he whispered to himself, fists clenching as the pieces of an ominous puzzle fell into place.

"Obrin, you should learn to share," one of the other well dressed men drawled.  "I haven't lifted a skirt in weeks, yet you bring your toy here."

The man, apparently named Obrin, grinned wickedly and smoothed back his black hair, his blue eyes glittering.  It was a stark contrast to the mess of snarls upon the blonde woman's face, who wore a ridiculously low cut dress she was nearly falling out of and red lip stick that was even too red for her.

"You just need to make the right connections," he pointed out, pulling Missendria much more closely so that she fell across his lap and it gave him, and his gentleman friend's, a nice eyeful.  "It took a lot of effort to get a slave like this."

And all the men gave appreciative stares. Obrin stroked Missednria back from where she lay, trailing fingers down to her ass then thigh.

"But why bring her on this trip? You flaunting your new toy, Obrin?" Another seemed to reprimand.

"Why not bring her? Someone needs to occupy my chambers with me for the night"

Besides..  he wasn't about to tell the men he had only recently fell into such luck. Missendria had only been in his possession for less than a day- and he had to use the device on her or have it be taken away. He would have chosen another if he could... but.. well...

Missendria had always been the best lay he ever had. Perhaps fate brought them back together, rewarding him in this funny way. After all.. he had been forced to abandon her once she took up his debt- feelings for her aside- Opus Dey was an impossible man to conquer...

And he wasn't foolish enough not to make his escape when he did. And who knew that crime Lord would end up blessing him with two strokes of luck?

He eyed Missednria hungrily before stroking her hair and growing hard off the soft feeling of her golden locks and warm body layed across his lap.

"Tonight I'll make it up to you.." he whispered into her ear. "It's been too long..."

So that's Obrin.

As Damien continued to move through the crowd, his focus on Arvin wavered by choice. A disturbing scene unfolded before him—Missendria, adorned with the unnatural charm around her neck, seemed controlled, a puppet to Obrin's unseen strings. A shiver raced down Damien's spine as he witnessed their actions, an unsettling realization taking root.

His mind raced, connecting the dots. Obrin, the puppeteer behind the scenes, must have been the reason for the distorted intel on Missendria. She was never meant to be in his book, an innocent ensnared by Obrin's influence.

Dread, horror, and panic collided within Damien, creating a storm of emotions that threatened to engulf him. Yet, above all, anger surged through him like an unrelenting tide. The deception, the manipulation, and the violation fueled a rage that burned hotter than the desert sun.

With clenched fists, he struggled to maintain composure. The weight of the revelation bore down on him, a heavy burden that threatened to consume him. As the pieces of the sinister puzzle fell into place, Damien stood amidst the masquerade, a solitary figure wrestling with the twisted reality that unfolded before his eyes.

"No more," Damien muttered, resolve steeling his actions.

Seizing a tray bearing a fresh, steaming coffee, he approached the group of men leering at Missendria. His voice sliced through their conversation like a knife. "Coffee?" he asked, struggling to maintain his composure.

One man snarled, dismissing Damien. "Can't you see we're busy, boy? Go on now—"

With swift determination, Damien grasped the man's arm, his eyes blazing with an intensity that held the power of command. "Take this coffee," Damien ordered, "and throw it in your face."

The man's smug demeanor evaporated, replaced by an expressionless compliance. He took the cup and promptly doused his face with the scalding liquid.

The ensuing chaos unfolded swiftly. Damien's victim cried out in pain, his skin and eyes burning from the unexpected scalding. As the others gathered to witness the commotion, Damien slammed the tray into another man's face, a prelude to the impending storm. With the force of a mountain, his fist collided with Obrin's jaw, a resounding blow that echoed the pent-up anger unleashed in that singular strike.

Missendria was on her feet the moment the fight exploded, scrambling to figure out what was going on when she noted a servant downed Obrin with a punch to his jaw.

She gasped, then soon realized who the servant was and took another step back in alarm.

Obrin growled, nursing his jaw from where he lay in a heap upon the floor.

"What is this meaning of this!? Guards!" And soon the foot steps of armored men on the wooden floors could be heard. 

Missendria was frozen in shock. Was it really him?


And why was he here?

Was it...

A sense of dred pooled within her belly. 

Was he here.. for her?

"Keep your filthy hands off of her," Damien growled, a dormant anger now aflame within him, fueled by the disgust Missendria endured at Obrin's hands. The echoes of past horrors resurfaced, the memories of men violating his mother's sanctity, and in that moment, Damien lost all semblance of composure.

A primal surge of instincts compelled him to lunge at Obrin like a rabid animal, but an unyielding force intercepted, slamming him into the unforgiving ground. Guards swarmed in, swiftly tying his hands behind his back. "Get the hells off me," Damien hissed through gritted teeth.

Trapped and surrounded, he knew resistance was futile. As they hoisted him up, dragging him toward an impending holding cell, Damien's mind raced, contemplating his next move to free himself and get to Missendria.

Obrin, surprised by the outburst, cowered back and was thankful the guards arrived swiftly. It took him a moment to realize something as he looked at Missendria...

And the way she looked at the other man-

He back handed her and barked out, " Never look at that man again!"
He grabbed her by her wrists, her face now forced to look away from Damien as Obrin snarled in her face .

"What was that servant to you? Tell me!" He said, giving her a fierce shake. 

She yelped out inspite of herself, and before she could think of her answer- rhe natural reply rolled off her tongues.

"I'm in love with him!" A proclamation that twisted inside her gut, fluttering a sensation within her hearts and veins, as she realized what the compulsion meant.

"A lover?" And for the life of him, he couldn't help himself but laugh. He seized her by the hair. "You have no other lovers but me. Understand!?"

And just like that- the raw, unbridled emotions she held for Damien were snuffed out like a candle... and despite the surging emotion she now felt towards Obrin- that part of her that was still herself felt sick.

"This isn't one of our servants," a guard remarked, eyeing Damien with a mix of suspicion and curiosity from the other side of the cell that confined him. "Get Lord Arvin. Quick."

The second guard, comprehending the urgency in his companion's words, nodded before swiftly rejoining the gathering to locate their employer.

——

As Damien found himself confined within the stark walls of the cell, a sudden interruption disrupted the stillness. The creaking of the heavy door announced Arvin's presence. A self-satisfied smirk adorned Arvin's face as he approached the cell, a facade of false bravery bolstered by the temporary security of Damien's captivity.

"Well, well, well," Arvin taunted, leaning against the cell bars with a feigned air of confidence. "Damien Lola, isn't it? Son of that bitch, Violet." His words dripped with a twisted sense of satisfaction, relishing the power he believed confinement granted him.

"You thought you could play the noble Theodore," Arvin continued, amusement dancing in his eyes. "But it seems we've uncovered your little secret. You're not as clever as you thought, Lola. Edric told us all about you."

Damien, his face a mask of restrained fury, met Arvin's gaze with unyielding intensity. Despite his own bravado, Arvin's cowardice lingered beneath the surface, his false sense of security teetering on the edge of the unknown consequences that awaited him in the shadows of Damien's resilience.

Soon, Damien's lips curled in a small smile.

A soft chuckle escaped Damien's lips, gradually growing into a dramatic laughter that reverberated within the confines of the cell. Arvin, taken aback by the unexpected response, watched as Damien's laughter echoed defiance rather than submission. "You think you've got me?" Damien's laughter conveyed a defiance that pierced through Arvin's false sense of triumph. "Arvin, my true identity was never meant to be hidden forever. You've mistaken a temporary setback for defeat. You'll know me, and you'll die for it."

Arvin staggered back, his face flushed with anger but his eyes betraying a flicker of fear. "Nonsense, you—"

"I don't have time for you," Damien interjected sharply. His eyes flashed, deploying his glamour to seize control over Arvin's actions. "Take that blade in your hand and cut your throat."

The command unfolded with sudden and horrific precision. Arvin, under Damien's influence, obeyed, his own hand guiding the blade across his throat. The nearby guard could only witness the gruesome scene unfold, blood pooling before Arvin's lifeless body crumpled to the ground. As the guard's horrified gaze shifted to Damien, the sheer shock and panic were palpable.

"Now," Damien growled in a low tone, his eyes unwavering. "Give me the key and get out of here while you still can, unless you want me to do the same to you."

It likely would have been wiser to use his powers to acquire the key, but.. old habits.

Damien's actions only caused a moment of ruffled feathers, but soon the men were back to playing cards. Missendria remained at Obrin's side, laying leisurely against his side, her top exposed as the laces had been undone and Obrin taking pleasure in openly flaunting her before the other's.

"She will obey everything I tell her to do. It's a new means to keep our property in line. This one.. I think.." he went on, stroking her exposed breasts with thought.  "She and I had.. plans.. before life got in the way.." he always seemed regretful for it. Was there even a bit of pain within those blue depths?

Missendria fought the thrill of seeing that look but...

Heavens curse her, her heart bubbled unconfotllably for him.

"I think I'll keep her around for breeding. About time I sired some heirs.." he gestured come hither to Missendria and she climbed up onto his lap and they shared a long, hot and passionate kiss that tingled something in the very edges of her being that repulsed this-

But she couldn't say no.

"Wait.. I thought she looked familiar. You took Missendria as your slave?"

Obrin'd glare was as molten as lava, the raw anger behind that gaze enough to cow the other man.

"I just thiught that..."

"I told you," snapped his icy reply. "Life got in the way."

Silent as a shadow, Damien navigated the dimly lit corridors, his movements calculated and precise. A subdued guard lay unconscious in a secluded corner, the result of a brief but effective confrontation. Acquiring the key, Damien continued his stealthy advance, his senses attuned to every creaking floorboard beneath his careful steps.

As he approached the bustling masquerade, he spotted a lone guest, a convenient target for his next move. With a swift, expertly executed maneuver, Damien subdued the unsuspecting reveler, ensuring a swift exit from the scene. Stripping the guest of his attire, Damien donned the masquerade mask and elaborate costume with a practiced ease, effectively blending into the sea of masqueraders.

Adjusting his pitch and adopting a subtle foreign accent, Damien refined his impersonation. With a calculated swagger, he moved through the crowd, observing Obrin and his entourage from a distance. A smirk played on Damien's lips as he thought, these fools should be just dumb enough to be fooled by this and buy me enough time to get Missendria out.

Approaching the group, Damien's heart blazed with fury as he laid eyes on Missendria. Her vulnerability, heightened in this intimate encounter (willing or otherwise), fueled a jealous rage within him. Shuddering with the effort to compose himself, he took a deep breath before advancing.

"Gentlemen," he announced, a sly smile playing on his lips accompanied by a southern drawl, his face concealed behind the masquerade mask. "I must say, that's quite the prize you have there." Damien gestured toward Missendria. "How do you manage to make them so obedient? I've got some of mine who offer more lip than head; could use a few pointers." The words, laced with feigned admiration, masked the seething emotions beneath Damien's poised exterior.

The men all peaked up, staring curiously at rhe man who approached. But Obrin simply laughed it off, and gave an open and appreciative squeeze of one of her breasts.

"A man never gives away his woman's secrets. But thank you for watching. " he laughed. "But I don't believe we've met?"

The others also looked more scrutinizingly now that Obrin said it But remained quiet for the man's reply. 

Missendria, of course, hardly paid attention to the new comer, her form draped across Obrin as he rested a hand upon her ass to keep her close.

A part of him despised he was being so vulgar- but with the men whom he took company now...
This part of him was expected. He was a shallow man, yes...

But he had.. and perhaps still did... care for Missendria.  If she hadn't gotten in his way of procuring the very devise she wore...


Well.. things may have been different. But as it stood.. he had a role to play and Missendria was another unfortunate casualty of that role. 

He had never meant to hurt her...
He knew he had been too good for her...
And to think... she had saved him from damnation itself. 

Perhaps.. he'd repay her later..

But for now...
Well.. she had gotten in the way again of his misfortunes whixh...


Fate turned unto her.

Exuding an air of confidence, Damien gracefully introduced himself with a charming smile beneath the masquerade mask. "Gentlemen, you may call me Sebastian Lockhart. I oversee an estate just off the riverbank, a little slice of paradise where fortunes are made." His words dripped with assurance as he spun a tale of a lavish estate crafted from the fabric of his imagination.

As the group leaned in, captivated by the allure of a fabricated empire, Damien's eyes, concealed behind the mask, betrayed a hunger as they lingered on Missendria. In that moment, his gaze spoke of possession and desire.

"Now, I've been observing your intriguing methods of control," he continued smoothly, addressing Obrin directly. "And I find myself in need of such obedience in my own establishment. Two of my women," Damien gestured towards the imaginary estate he wove with words, "for the lovely lady here. A trade, you see. I trust you'll find it fair, considering the unique talents each party brings to the table."

His proposal hung in the air, a calculated gamble to both distract and maneuver, creating a diversion that might allow him to enact a plan to liberate Missendria from Obrin's grasp.

At such a proposal, Obrin laughed.

"I apologize, friend, but my lover is not for sale. And I'm not exactly a man who wants to share. Keep your own goods, I'm more than happy with what I've got here."

He smiled down at Missendria- his chest swelling with pride and.. was there actually a hint of something deeper?

He brushed a stray lock from her face.

"I've already settled on her. And this one is one for keeps."

Who do this piece of shit think he is?

Once more, Damien had to restrain himself, resisting the urge to lunge across the table and confront the man in a way that would leave no room for words. Instead, he nodded his head and mustered a dry smile.

"Good man," he remarked with feigned quaintness. "I cannot argue with that. Still, I find myself quite fond of your style. Perhaps you'd be willing to let me join you and your friends this evening. A game of cards, I presume?"

If Obrin was anything, he was greedy. And he loved to play cards. It was one of his many vices.

"Oh? We had just finished our game. I suppose we could deal in another player.." Obrin mused, a hand still idly stroking Missendria, who still had her back to Damien- and she - none the wiser.

"Excellent!"

A charismatic smile graced his lips as he leaned in, a playful glint in his eyes visible through the mask.

As he gracefully took a seat, he continued with an air of nonchalance, "But let's make things interesting, shall we?" Damien's proposal hung in the air like a tantalizing dare. "A high-stakes wager to add a dash of excitement. How about the winner claims the esteemed title of the evening's most charming rogue, with the loser agreeing to a little favor for the victor?"

The men scoffed but Obrin waved them off.

"Come now, we're all men of means. Surely you could wager a little money outside of some simple request as a prize. "

Sebastian flashed a sly smile tinged with guilt before nonchalantly shrugging. "Can't argue with that," he remarked, pulling something from his coat pocket. Damien unfurled a scroll of paper onto the table between himself and Obrin, a scroll enchanted to reveal precisely what would deceive Obrin. On the surface, it was a mere blank sheet, but in the illusioned minds of his adversaries, it represented the title to his fictional estate – a residence more opulent and prosperous than they could ever dream of achieving.

"My estate," Damien declared with conviction, a cunning grin playing on his lips. "If you win, it's yours. When you lose, all I desire is the trinket gracing that woman's neck."

The men started, gawking at such a prize. Obrin gawked along too, the hunger in his eyes something he couldn't hide. He had never been a rich man- always dreamed of making his way to the top...

But so many failed attempts landed him..

Well.. here.

He licked his lips, only realizing he was staring when the entire room looked to him.

"What game?" He asked, clearing his throat and hoping he sounded casual and not too eager.

A surge of feigned excitement curled Damien's lips into a sly grin.

That's right, take the bait.

"I assume you're familiar with SpiceShuffle," Damien declared, his words more of a statement than a question, as he skillfully liberated the deck from Obrin's possession. With deliberate precision, he began to split and spread the cards before him. "Shall we make it a best of three?"

Obrin sneered. 

"Best of five.  But.. visitor's never shuffle."
He eyed one of his companion. 

"Whechen.. will you do the honors?"

The portly man proffered a hand.

"Very well.  But you know you're always a sucker for card games."

Sebastian, alias Damien, adorned a polite and sly smile as he skillfully scooped up the deck. With a courteous gesture, he handed it over to Obrin's companion to shuffle, concealing a subtle flash in his eyes beneath the mask. Through the illusion, he manipulated the cards to align with his calculated plan.

"Best out of five, you said?" Sebastian chimed in with a charming demeanor. "Let the games begin."

Strategically allowing Obrin to claim victory in the initial games served as Damien's calculated move to avoid arousing immediate suspicion or provoking unwanted defiance. The grand design was to pave the way for a decisive sweep in the subsequent rounds, ultimately securing Missendria back in his arms.

He could only hope she would welcome his rescue. He desperately needed to make things right.

Obrin's confidence inflated as he won the first hand, but tried to waive it off as just first hand luck. But whenever he won the second.. well.. his ego was out right ballooning.

"Now now.. best out of five," he told his companions in attempts to calm down their cheers. In truth, he was reveling in the glory of it.  His friends were already making plans about visiting his shiny new estate and Missendria was all but forgotten where she sat upon the arm of his chair.

She had been staring at Damien, hair falling over her face in a mess of gold.

"Your deal, my friend." Obrin said with a gesture towards his opponent. 

"Right you are," Damien said with a feigned hint of frustration, creating an illusion of pressure and a lack of control. Adding to the act, he began to deal the cards with a visible display of nervousness.

However, the real act began.

"Sebastian" won the third hand, and with that, a small triumphant smile played on his lips. The evident disappointment in Obrin's expression was all too satisfying.

Going into the next round, just as Damien had planned and manipulated it, he won again. This time, his persona was noticeably more excited.

"Your move, friend."

Only during the second win for this 'Sebastian' fellow did Obrin begin to sweat. It was obvious he was trying to hide his nerves, especially as he continued to boast.

"Game's getting pretty intense now, isn't it?" Obrin went on with a grin.  "A solid tie.. with the next move defining the winner."

As the final hand unfolded in their high-stakes best-of-five card game, Damien's eyes, concealed beneath the subtle mystique of his mask, briefly flashed with a calculated brilliance. A momentary glint, imperceptible to most, betrayed the subtle manipulation of the cards, ensuring that fate favored him in this pivotal round.

"Indeed it has," he agreed with a voice that conveyed both nerves and exhilaration. "With one of us much more to lose."

With a sly smile playing on his lips, "Sebastian" casually laid down his cards, the winning hand revealed with an air of confidence. "Full spice," he announced, his tone carrying a hint of amusement. Obrin's companions stared in disbelief, unaware of the subtle act of deceit that had unfolded beneath the guise of the game.

Flashing another humble smile, his eyes fixated on Missendria.

Obrin's mouth went dry, throat constricting and his stomach had nearly fallen to his feet. 

He.. had lost.

His brow twitched a moment, as did his smile.

"So.." he began smoothly as he leaned back in his chair. "How long did we wager this winning 'trade' for? For the rest of the night? A week?"

Surely the man wouldn't have wagered his entire home.. for..

He couldn't look at the item around Missendria's neck, and he held his hands in such tight fists his knuckles grew white. 

"Sebastian's" eyes gleamed with the thrill of victory as he surveyed the card table, his newfound winnings just an arm reach away. "For life, friend. Surely, a man of your means will have no trouble at all procuring another, but fair is fair after all. Now, if you will."

Damien's gaze flickered between Obrin and Missendria, his heart pounding. The surroundings seemed to hold its breath as the two men locked eyes, a subtle power play unfolding in the aftermath of the card game. Damien, however, knew it would likely to come to this and one wasn't one to back down easily.

His left hand, concealed beneath the ornate card table, tingled with the sensation of fire as he subtly channeled his elemental magic.

Don't be stupid, Obrin.

At that moment, Damien could care less about marking Obrin off of his list. The only thing he wanted was Missendria. He wanted her safe. He wanted her away from that man. And he wanted all of this to happen before someone discovered Arvin's body.

Obrin ground his teeth.
If only this man knew...

"Well.. can't be a poor loser now can I?" He gave a hollow chuckle as he stood up.
"Excuse me while I take it off of my lover here in the back room.. atleast give her " and me "that courtesy. "

Damien harbored no belief that Obrin genuinely needed privacy to remove that thing. Despite his skepticism, he aimed to sidestep a confrontation for Missendria's sake. Simultaneously, he remained poised to start trouble if getting her back required such drastic measures.

Following Obrin without arousing suspicion would prove challenging, especially with his goons lingering, visibly deflated from a game they hadn't participated in, their watchful eyes fixed on Damien like hawks.

Suppressing his instincts, Damien bit his tongue and reluctantly nodded. "Certainly," he responded, his agreement tinged with hesitation. "I suppose I can accommodate that."

A silent vow lingered beneath his words – if, upon his return, Missendria wasn't with him, he would tear this ship inside out.

Obrin rose with as much grace as he could muster in that moment, but it was hard to hide the bitterness from his defeat. 

"Then I shall return momentarily." He bowed politely to his companions and the victor before strolling off, Missednria on his arm. He made his way with purpose back to his room, chewing internally over his loss. It wasn't until they were back inside his private rooms did he exude curses, shouting, throwing things over and down right laughing at how much of an idiot he was.

He then paused to look at the mess of his room, not unlike the mess he always created of his life. He raked a hand through his hair before turning to Missendria.  She was barely modest- breasts still fully exposed of her dress, but a shawl had been draped over top of her as they exited the parlor.

She was a beautiful fictional possession of his past- one he had given up for his own freedom.. and greed. This woman had given up her life for him and was under the consequential contract of the mighty Opus Dey.

It was purely that fact that he hadn't completely hesitated when eyeing the collar. He'd have to remove it from her.

He recalled just why she had ended up wearing it in the first place- for the two former lovers had crossed paths due to that damned contract she was burdened with and her mission was the exact enchanted collar be had lost on that wage.


He ground his teeth over the very loss again before finally moving before the woman and tracing a hand down her face.

"Even I know you don't deserve any of this, Missy. You were.. always too good for me." Be lifted a hand and brushed a stray lock of her hair from her face, tucking it neatly behind her ear.

"I keep pathing the same damn fate, don't I?"
His smile was bitter and sad. He had expected her to reply, but the collar...

Right. It made her nothing but a simple doll.
She would return to freedom again. This time however...
She would have to deal with some other man now in possession of the relic she sought.

To think.. she was so close to.claiming it for Opus Dey....

He removed the matching bracelet on his wrist and rubbed the metal across the part of the collar that rested against the base of her neck, until he felt one metal piece slide into another.  He gave a jerk of his wrist and the thing clicked as it fell open.

Missednria fell unceremoniously upon Obrin, her caught her as the metal collar fell to the ground with a large rattle.  She groaned, the fog from her expression lifted as she blinked and looked around, confused until her violet eyes met to his blue ones.

And she soon remembered how she got there- and socked him hard, straight across the face.

"You bastard!" She roared, hands tearing and pelting at the man as he cowered against the bed. "You monster! You cad! You ruined my life!" She shrieked, wailing upon him as he continued to cower beneath.

"Missendria! Please! Let me explain..."

But she would not, and proceeded to throw any and  objects near her in the room at his stupid, fucking head.

This was taking too damned long.

Maintaining composure among the mini Obrins proved challenging for Damien, and the keen observation of one nearby heightened his impatience. His leg bobbed up and down under the table, a noticeable shake betraying his struggle to stay in character in the confined deck area.

Concerns gnawed at him. Was Obrin attempting an escape? Was something happening to Missendria? Was he doing.. something.. to her?

"Perhaps one of you should check on him," Damien suggested, a tinge of frustration seeping into his voice. "I am a man of my word; I certainly hope he is the same."

Reluctantly, Whechen, a man with an unfortunate name and face, humored him and ventured toward the path Obrin and Missendria had taken.

Just one more minute, Damien thought. Just one more minute, and he was going in.

Life had a way of complicating things, and the universe, true to form, heightened Damien Lola's challenges. A breathless man rushed up the stairs to the deck, delivering the unsettling news: "Lord Arvin has been killed!"

Chaos erupted, people shifting uncomfortably, harsh and frantic chatter filling the air, and a few screams punctuating the disarray. "This is just like what happened to Lord Williams!" someone exclaimed in a disoriented haze.

Oh, hello again, friend, Damien thought with utter irritation.

And of course, of course the universe wasn't finished, a subtle glance revealed the passenger who Damien had subdued and stolen his outfit emerging with a dazed look of confusion. Damien stood abruptly, ripping off his mask, uninterested in playing roles anymore in that moment. Purposefully, he moved to find Missendria amid the tumult.

As chaos was unleashed outside of the room, the chaos inside continued as Missendria assaulted Obrin over and over again. She was furious. Words could not begin to describe the rage she felt.  How he could have done this to her?

The pain was unimaginable and eventually lead her to knocking him over the head and leaving him dazed upon the bed.

And she stood over him, she wasn't even sure what was in her hands as she cried out in pure agony as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Stop that man!"

The figure whose outfit Damien had "borrowed" earlier had now zeroed in on him, witnessing Damien's determined stride towards Missendria's confined location. Despite the urgency of the situation, Damien had no choice but to disregard the pursuer - the chaos around them provided cover, and there were more pressing matters to attend to.

As he had silently vowed, he was prepared to turn the ship upside down if necessary, even willing to sink it if that's what it took.

Whechen, the unfortunate man with an equally unfortunate name and face, found himself with an unfortunate nosebleed as Damien effortlessly crossed his path. Positioned just outside the door, for reasons Damien neither knew nor cared about, Whechen took a swift elbow to the nose, sending him tumbling to the ground in sudden agony.

With unwavering determination, Damien kicked the door open.

"Missendria!"

When the door kicked open, Missednria spun- gasping at the intruder as she recognized who it was.

"Damien!?" She gaped, not realizing she was still basically topless and dropped what she was holding. 

At rhe distraction, Obrin whimpered and rolled away from her, cowering beside the bed.

Entering the room with the intent to storm in, rescue Missendria, and confront Obrin, Damien found himself at a loss for words upon seeing her already in control of the situation.

"Missendria, I..." he began, catching himself mid-sentence. He needed to regain control before things spiraled out of hand, but seeing her, the real her, made his heart skip several beats.

Swiftly, he approached her, acknowledging the unspoken tension. "I know what you must think of me," he said, his voice measured as he draped his jacket around her, shielding her from further exposure. "But right now, we need to get out of here."

With a brief, disdainful glance at Obrin huddled in cowardice, Damien turned back to Missendria, extending his hand for her to take. "Please."

Still shaken over what just happened with her by Obrin, and also recalling the pain of their last meeting- she grit her teeth, uncertain of the choices before her.

Both men had hurt her, cut her deep.



But only Obrin crossed an even worse line than he had before.

Even still..
She smacked his hand away.

"Do with him as you will. I'm done here." And she stormed passed him, numbed by the whole situation. 

A wave of hurt washed over Damien as Missendria swiftly smacked his extended hand away. The sting of rejection pierced deeper than he expected, a raw vulnerability laid bare, and the pain etched across his face mirrored the ache in his heart.

No.

He could not accept that.

In a desperate pursuit, he stormed after her, stretching out his hand to grasp her arm as they passed through the door. The purpose behind the act eluded him – was it to reason, apologize, or beg?

However, it seemed he had left it too late. Upon emerging onto the deck, the guards had already gathered, weapons drawn and pointed directly at them.

Shit.

Missendria stopped, finding herself stuck between a rock and a hard place. She grit her teeth, slowly backing away.

"Why did you come here?" She hissed.

Trouble seemed to follow her- but he was making it worse.

"Well, darling," he began, lifting his hands in a deliberate gesture of surrender, "my job."

Before Damien could so much as think of his next move, a forceful onslaught ensued, hurling him to the unforgiving ground.

Amid the chaos, Damien, dusted with the impact, rose with a determined glare, attempting to quell the escalating tension. "Wait! She had nothing to do with this!" he pleaded, his voice cutting through the commotion. His words hung in the air, a desperate attempt to convince the guards of Missendria's innocence.

Yet, the guards remained unmoved, their weapons poised and suspicions undeterred. They subdued Damien before turning their sights on Missendria.

Pinned to the ground, Damien locked eyes with Missendria. He subtly gestured toward the side of the ship where a lifeboat was stationed, silently mouthing the word "Run."

Except as they tusseled, Obrin took the opportunity to slink up behind them. The damn fiend already had a terrible pay back plan into motion and just as things didn't seem like they could get any worse- Obrin attempted to slink in unseen through the commotion - collar open and ready to snap onto Damien's neck.

Missendria had managed to catch the bastard out of the corner of her eye and cried out in alarm, before throwing herself bodily against Obrin and the damn collar clattered to the floor.

Ignoring Damien's impassioned pleas of Missendria's innocence, the guards descended upon her, swarming to subdue and drag her below deck alongside Damien. In a disheartening procession, they were both thrown into the solitary cell that the ship harbored. The prison space seemed designed for a single occupant, preventing any separation between the accused pair. This time, a contingent of guards remained behind, vigilant eyes fixed on the confined duo.

With an almost gentle nudge, Missendria was ushered into the cell, while Damien faced a more brutal treatment. Tossed in like a mere rag doll, he landed with an undignified thud, the cell door slamming shut and locking them in the stifling confines of their temporary prison.

With a groan, Damien sat up, wincing as he shifted his head to meet Missendria's gaze. The weight of guilt and remorse etched across his face, he felt the burden of putting her in this situation. Attempting to speak, he found himself incapable of mustering the words and let his gaze trail down to the floor. He had already caused her another harm.

She could not believe her luck. Maybe she was cursed?  Because who in all the world ever had to through so many wretch scenarios- all of them involving men.

She was clearly a fool, and clearly knew how to pick them well. One lover- a degenerate gambler and coward and the other... a murderer.

She moved as far away as she could, considering the confines, turning her back to him- and rhe guards- as she tossed his damn jacket back at his head.

Then she went about , attempting to fix the top half of her dress.

Swiftly evading the jacket hurled directly at his face, he settled back down, fixating his gaze on the ceiling while releasing a quiet sigh. The anticipated confrontation unfolded, creating a palpable tension that added an extra layer of awkwardness to the encounter.

This was to be expected.

"Soooo," he began, breaking the silence with a feigned sense of nonchalance and a hint of caution, "How've you been?"

She ignored him, and had she cared to put in the effort- she'd  have glared at him. But she was too busy fussing over the top of her dress, pressing a hand to the chest piece while the other worked at relacing what Obrin had yanked out.

Damn bastard....

Feeling defeat and heartache, Damien closed his eyes, sensing the ship sway beneath him as it cut through the waves. An overwhelming sense of frustration enveloped him, reminiscent of a child unable to articulate their feelings. Mad at himself for letting the situation devolve to this point, Damien couldn't shake the weight of unspoken emotions.

Finally, he spoke, his words carried by a tinge of both longing and determination, "You can't ignore me forever, Missendria."

Working on tieing up her front, she snorted with derision. 

"Watch me," she warned, still keeping her back to him.

Her voice elicited a soft smile from him, and a quiet laugh escaped his lips.

"Well, you just talked to me," he pointed out matter-of-factly, "so you're technically not ignoring me now."

She wasn't even going to dignify that with a response.  She tightened up the last of her corset strings and gave one final tug, purposefully elbowing Damien as she did so. Then went on to tieing the bow. 

Okay, he deserved that. Granted, it was not like he was the only one in the cell with ulterior motives upon their first meeting.

Damien took a deep breath, the cold, hard floor of the jail cell beneath him feeling unforgiving against his back. The echoes of commotion from the upper deck gradually faded, leaving behind an uneasy silence. He shifted his weight, the metallic clinks of his chains breaking the stillness.

Placing his hands behind his head, Damien let his mind race, contemplating their predicament for the time being.

His thoughts circled around escape plans and possibilities. The small shared cell seemed like a trap, but Damien couldn't let despair take over. The guards outside, seemingly lax in their watch, provided a glimmer of hope. His mind calculated the risks and chances, focusing on the task at hand.

Leaning his head to the side, Damien surveyed the perimeter of the room. The dim light barely illuminated the cold, damp walls. Five guards stationed outside the cell, their figures casting shadows in the flickering torchlight. One or two would occasionally glance over, their attention divided among other matters.

His eyes moved to Missendria's again. He needed to get her on board with the plan he had brewing in his mind. They needed a distraction. They needed a commotion.

Taking in a shuddering breath, Damien steeled himself before embarking on a plan he knew he couldn't communicate to the woman relishing in his torment. Sitting up with determined resolve, he prepared to set his scheme into motion.

"You know what, Abigail?" he began with a rising voice, deliberately using a fake name for the guards to catch. "Fuck you! All I ever did was love you!"

For a long while the two stewed in their own tensions. So her temper was hardly cooled when -( what she thought of-anyways-) that he was being funny. 

With her arms folded, she slowly turned around to look at him- a steel, cool fire in her eyes.

"And just who is Abigail? The other lover you were supposed to try and kill?"

Damien huffed in exasperation. It wouldn't have hurt for her to play along, if only for the slim chance of escaping their confinement. Did she actually want to stay in cell?

"For the gods' sake, Missendria," he retorted sharply, dropping her real name this time. "Could you quit acting like a child? Is that really how you see me?"

Rising to his feet, a blend of mild panic and irritation overtook him as he started pacing within the cramped cell. Under his breath, he mockingly repeated her words in a tone of a bickering lover.

She was hardly moved. She kept her stance, glaring down at him. The mental hell she had just gone through being humiliated by Obrin- this was just ridiculous to her and she was done with men. 

"Whatever you're concocting leave me out of it. I'm sick of it."

And she turned her back on him once more.

Ceasing his restless pacing, Damien felt a sense of foolishness settle over him. She was right – she had just endured another awful ordeal, one of many, and Damien himself had often been the cause. Despite recognizing this, calming his restless mind proved challenging. He attempted to engage in conversation, to argue, to formulate a plan – yet none of these were what she needed right now.

Resigning himself to the truth, he sat back down, contemplating whether it might be best to leave her in peace.

"I'm sorry," he wished to convey, but he chose the path of silence. Slowly, he let his back drift to the floor, resting his hands behind his head as a makeshift pillow. Closing his eyes in an attempt to find solace, he hoped for a moment of rest.

She was cut from a stubborn rock- some may have called it resilience, so she remained standing while Damien made himself comfortable on the floor. She took to staring at the wall, almost seeming to look through the wood grain.

Her mind was in tangles. She had just been forced to deal with two former lovers. The fresh wound lay nearby where as the deeper wound that scarred her was elsewhere now, likely being the coward he was. She still couldn't believe what he just put her through. She knew he was a coward.. but this? Forcing her to expose herself and claim her as his slave!?

She would never forgive him.

Despite trying to keep herself composed, to find strength through that hatred, she only felt the pain now of betrayal and she couldn't stop the tears. Hot tears ran down her cheeks and she just let them, allowing them to tickle and collect along her jaw before falling silently to the floor.

Kia's name... she was stupid.. a fool. And Damien being just a few feet away reminded her of her most recent mistake, and it made her feel sick.

And before she knew it, she was on her knees and vomiting in the corner.

The creaking of the ship's timbers and the distant rumble of the waves created a disconcerting symphony as the vessel approached its destination. Damien, held captive in the dimly lit cell, had succumbed to the exhaustion of the events leading up to this moment. He lay on the cold, unforgiving floor, the hard surface a stark contrast to the turbulent thoughts that had occupied his mind.

Outside the cell, the guards engaged in low-toned discussions, their voices a murmur that only heightened unease. As their words reached his ears, he caught fragments of their deliberations about what awaited them on dry land. The mention of his name, Damien Lola, rippled through the air, accompanied by murmurs of Lord Viktor's potential interest. The mention of that name filled him with dread and anger.

The guards' discussion shifted to darker topics, contemplating the public spectacle of his execution. The mere mention of a public hanging sent shivers down Damien's spine.

The ship's docking became imminent, each thud of the hull against the dock intensifying the gravity of their situation. As reality asserted itself, Damien's eyes flickered open, the lingering traces of sleep fading away. The guards, their shadows dancing in the lantern light, fell silent, anticipation building for what lay beyond the cell door.

Her illness eventually passed and she was thankful Damien didn't press the issue at hand. She was about two seconds from a complete melt down-

And then a loud CRACK made her look up.

Panicked voices could be heard outside of the room and the sudden lurching of the ship sent Missendria toppling overtop of Damien- she braced herself against him, words catching in her throat as she felt the very real and heavy pull of a tipping ship- as the sounds of flooding waters rushed against their side of the ship.

Panicked, she scrambled to her feet, losing her balance as she fell into the wall.

"What.. what was that... are we...?"

No the ship couldn't just be sinking...

Could it?

Amidst the chaos of the sinking ship, Damien fought against the unpredictable currents within the confined space of the jail cell. Tossed about like a leaf in a tempest, he collided with the cell walls, each impact sending a jolt through his body. As the ship listed, he slid towards Missendria, the relentless force threatening to bring them together in an unintended collision.

With instinctive reflexes, Damien threw his arms out to brace against the wall, managing to halt the collision just in time. Their faces hovered mere inches apart, eyes locking in a shared acknowledgment of the peril surrounding them. "Sinking," he finished her words, a mixture of urgency and determination in his voice.

Outside the cell, the guards struggled to maintain their footing, desperately trying to make their way to safety. Alone and locked in the cell, Damien's frantic gaze caught sight of the cell keys, sent flying in the turmoil. They slid tantalizingly close but stopped just out of reach.

At their closeness, Missendria's whole body heated in a blush.  She hated she still felt a thrill around him.

But they had much bigger things to worry about. Her eyes followed to his as she noted the keys and scrambled to that side of the cage. She reached her arm out, stretching for the damn things with no success. They were just too far away.

She gave a growl of frustration as she pulled her arm away. River waters were already filling up the room in a rampage. They wouldn't have much time.. considering their level of the boat was already mostly underneath the water prior to whatever caused it to crack or crash. As the ship rocked again, she yelped and clung again the cage wall as the lurched and more waters came in in a rushed wave.

As the ship continued to sink, the ominous sound of water encroaching grew louder. The cell keys slid across the floor once more, a glimmer of hope in the dimly lit confinement. Damien, fueled by urgency, executed a swift, desperate lunge, his fingers just barely grasping the keys as they moved alongside the bottom of the cell.

A momentary fumble ensued as he worked fervently on unlocking the cell, each second feeling like an eternity. The water continued its relentless advance when the metallic click of the unlocked door echoed through the narrow space, and he swung it open.

"You first," he nearly commanded while grabbing her by the hand. He urgently moved her through the cell with him close behind.

However, as Damien attempted to secure his own freedom, the ship convulsed violently, sending shelves and debris crashing down in a chaotic symphony, barring his way out of the open cell.

"Ah, shit," he hissed, looking for a way through. "You go, I'll figure out something!"

Except as she spun around to see him trapped, she rushed over to aid him, stumbling as she went. She pressed against the debris, shoving it aside with a roar of fury. There were times like this she was glad she was no waif of a girl. She nearly fell over as she pushed the first layer free, but then the boat jerked and was pulled more sharply downwards and another wave of water gushed into the room, pushing Missendria away from the cage and pinning her against a back wall.

But as this happened, the wild, surging waters shoved the remaining debris aside, freeing the opening... too bad the angle of the boat had gravity working against Damien and any chance to escape- and the piece of shelving Missendria had pushed aside now crushed into her, also pinning her to the wall.

"Fuck!" She cried out when the thing smashed into her gut. 

The cell door, now freed, beckoned him to struggle upward against gravity, navigating the waterlogged surroundings. Determined, he waded through the rising water, reaching Missendria's side.

Grabbing hold of the shelf that pinned her against the wall, he summoned every ounce of strength, determined to free her. With a forceful heave, Damien toppled the shelf to the ground.

There was the relentless creaking of strained metal, a symphony of distress that resonated through the bowels of the vessel. Occasional groans and sharp snaps punctuated the air as the ship struggled against the relentless assault of the water.

They were running out of time. The ship was almost vertical in that moment.

"Sorry for this," he said quickly before wrapping a tight arm around her waist. With her, he leapt just enough to grab the door leading outside, the strain on his muscle nearly unbearable as they hung suspended. "Climb up me! Hurry!"

Missendria gasped, clinging to him as he clung on for dear life. She knew they hadn't much time, but obeyed.  She climbed up his form and dragged herself bodily into the next room, then turned to lay flat in her belly as she grabbed onto his wrists.

"Now up you go," she commanded, a deep fury in her voice that carried over the fear. "Because you're not allowed to die now. Not before you explain everything to me."

And the ship creak, pinged, groaned in threats as she held him fierce. 

"Yes ma'am," came his breathy reply, one that was accompanied with a determined grin.

Clinging to Missendria's hand, Damien used every ounce of strength to pull himself upward, kicking against the walls for leverage. As they emerged from the submerged room, he rolled onto the slanted deck, finding himself on top of Missendria as the ship continued its descent into the river.

He could feel them getting closer to the river with every passing moment, and with their faces just barely apart, he asked, "ready to swim?"

She cringed at that statement but looked into his eyes.

"I was never very good at swimming."

But she'd be damned if she'd let the waters take her now. Because, heavens help her, she wasn't good at a lot of things but tried to survive them anyways. 

As the ship succumbed to the relentless river waves, Damien, atop Missendria, felt the jarring tilt before both were hurled into the tumultuous waters. In the chaos, he desperately sought to grasp her hand, a lifeline against the impending separation. Yet, a colossal wave, spawned by the sinking vessel, thwarted his efforts, plunging him underwater.

Emerging momentarily, he called out amidst a mouthful of water, "Missendria!" The plea echoed in the tumult, a fleeting attempt to bridge the widening distance before the merciless currents submerged him once more.

The moment the raging night river waters too them, it was chaos. She felt the pull of the weight of the ship as she struggled against its wrath. There were times like these she wished she had done more than the occasional swim in a pond, but as the river churned, it eventually spat her upwards, and she gasped as she broke the surface of the water, coughing at the sweet renewal of air.

Battling the relentless river current, Damien surfaces and catches sight of Missendria struggling nearby. Summoning all his strength, he swims determinedly towards her. As they meet amidst the churning waves, he notices the shore not too far away, a stroke of fortune in their dire situation.

"Almost," a breath, "to," a splash in the face, "the shore."

The rest of his words were lost in the waves, and the only thing that could be heard over the wake of the sunken ship's tide was "with me."

She did her best to swim with him, trying not to let her own panic get the best of her. And they were so near to shore..
She choked on more water but kept swimming.. swimming.. until finally she grabbed a hold of a rock near the shore. She turned to face Damie, she- still choking on the waters before she sighed.

"Why do we always meet like this?"

The river's relentless current tugged at Damien's form as he swam against it. With each stroke, he fought the pull, determined to reach safety. As Missendria clung to a large rock at the shore, Damien mirrored her actions, his hands grasping at the uneven surface. With a final surge of strength, he heaved himself out of the water, and without hesitation, he reached for Missendria, pulling her to the safety of the shore alongside him. The sound of rushing water gradually faded as they found solid ground, their breaths mingling with the river's echo.

"We do," he breathed heavily, "make a habit of it, yeah."

As they took a moment to catch their breaths on the unfamiliar shoreline, Damien scanned their surroundings, realizing they were in an unknown location, at least as far as he could tell. The cold night air clung to their wet clothes, and the pressing need to get dry and warm became apparent. Turning his gaze back to Missendria, Damien's eyes held a weight of remorse for the turbulent events they had endured. "Thanks," he said with a silent breath, "for saving me back there."

The night air against her wet clothing was enough to sober her from the fear that still clung to her as they walked from the river bank.
She wrapped her arms around herself. 

Then he spoke and she turned to him. 

"Did you expect me to let you go down with the ship?"

Her question lingered, piercing through Damien's already burdened heart, laden with remorse and guilt. Seeing Missendria, drenched from the river, intensified the ache within him, nearly bringing tears to his eyes. His voice quivered as he struggled to respond, "You had plenty enough reason to."

His damp fingers traced through his wet hair, gaze fixed on the flowing river, attempting to gather the courage to speak. "Missendria," he whispered, the weight of his apology palpable. "I'm sorry. I really am. Everything I've done... everything that's happened... well, I..."

He faltered, the words caught in his throat. Why was articulating his feelings so damn hard? His heart pounded relentlessly, hands shaking with fear. Determined, he cleared his throat, pressing himself to speak. "You don't deserve this," he managed, the admission heavy. "And I don't deserve you or your forgiveness."

She studied him with a frown. She was exhausted, she was upset- but she was excited  to simply still be alive. What did the say about her?  Was she a fool? To want to continue and survive in a world like this? 

She had been through hell so many times, forced to do so many things she'd never have done in all her nightmares...

"You apologize but you aren't the one who cursed me." She looked away, eyes bitter and sparkling as they threatened with tears. "And no matter what you say, my mistakes are always mine to make ."

She turned away from him, sighing hotly and brushing at the tears that tickled her cheeks.

"I'm just upset at myself. For being so reckless... I.."

She brushed at those damned tears again. 

"Just please be honest with me.. Damien.." she turned to regard him, eyes a shining mess. "What am I even to you?"

Was she just another toy on his way through his list?  Or... was she a complication in that plan... like he was unto her?

The notion of her being cursed lingered in his mind, a thought he intended to explore later, provided she still wanted to talk to him after this.

Then, the question came – a question he should have anticipated but one that had the power to render him speechless. What am I even to you? Terrified of admitting the truth, as it contradicted everything he had worked for before meeting her, he hesitated. While on the surface, sure, she was merely a name in his lethal ledger, in reality, she meant much more. The realization that the names on his kill list could have similar depths shook him with dread, contemplating the potential lives he might have unjustly taken.

Meeting her gaze, determined not to shy away, he nervously cleared his throat. "Missendria, you... I..." His words faltered, frustration evident in the clenching of his fist. Yet, summoning an exasperated breath, he surrendered. "I love you," he declared firmly. "That's what you are to me."

As he looked her square in the eyes, she too refuses to waiver, to look away. But to see him flounder, unable to find words..

Then he spoke.

And she froze, staring at him in disbelief.

Did he just... had he just said...

She looked away from him suddenly, heart hammering inside her chest and her stomach feeling as though it might float away. 

She had expected such a direct response, and one with such deep a meaning. 

Love?

Did he honestly love her?

And how did she feel back? She knew Orbin had forced the words out of her, but she was content with it all being for fun.. no real obligation...

Too bad her own heart was fluttering and her cheeks were burning and her mind completely shut down at a response.

And then she shivered, realizing they were both soaking wet and freezing from their near death by the river boat. So she laughed, the only thing she could do in that moment before the tears began to fall and she kept her back to him, too embarrassed that her reaction was just to begin to sob.

This was.. unexpected.

He braced himself for her response, anticipating a range of reactions, such as "I love you too," "I hate you," or nothing at all, but the laughter followed by tears caught him off guard. It felt like a gut punch, leaving him bewildered.

The words tumbled out of him, a mix of apology and an offer to lay bare his past, uncertain of what she truly wanted. "I'm sorry, Missendria. I know it might not be what you expected. I'm willing to share everything about me, my book, my past, or we can part ways. I won't trouble you any longer; I just..."

She shook her head, unable to look at him as she raised a hand for him to stay silent. 

She needed a moment. She needed several moments before she finally turned to him with a tear gloss smiled.

"I don't know what I expected, Damien.. we.. I... sort of... accidentally fell together, remember?"
She was trying to brush back her tears, trying to make sense of it all.

"Are you being sincere?" She finally asked, looking for his eyes , searching for an answer. "Because I've been hurt far too many times for love. And I want to know... I want to know if it's real or not. Not a dream.. not a lie.. not some man trying to use me to protect his own guilt... I want a man that wants me. For all the mistakes I've made and will make, to be there for me .. not caring that I'm used or broken.... when you say those words to me.. do you even know what you're confessing?"

Because Kia's name, she felt something so assuredly strong as a connection to him she just wanted it tp be real. But fear from her past mistakes was something almost insurmountable to get over...

But if there was a chance... some means of hope.. at happiness...


Didn't she deserve to take it?

Despite the clear pain in her eyes and the voice she spoke in, Damien could not help but form a small smile as his eyes burned hot with emotion.

"Missendria, you have no idea how broken I am," he said, sliding closer to her before letting his hand gently touch her arm. "Except when I'm with you. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since I met you. I've never been more sincere about anything in my life. Please believe me."

Damien's breaths came heavy and labored. His heart pounded in his chest, creating a symphony of nerves and anticipation. An ache settled in his chest, a physical manifestation of the emotional weight hanging in the air.

"I love you, Missendria," he said again, "I really do."

There it was again. Love.

'I love you.'

It made her shiver.

And she smiled back at him, not looking away.

"Then let's get the hell outta here," she said with a breathy laugh. "I'm too damn cold for this."

And she still needed time to digest over everything that happened- from the ship to well...thus.

But she moved to squeeze his hand, eyes still locked to his.

"Just please be patient with me...."
Because although she felt it, she was far too fearful to say it back. 

Despite her not reciprocating his feelings verbally, Damien took it as a promising beginning. Respecting her request for patience, he resisted the urge to pull her into a kiss. Instead, he rose to his feet, his smile carrying a genuine and vulnerable warmth unusual for him.

"Let's go," he said, his breath heavy with anticipation. Reaching out to her once more, he added, "I'm not sure where we landed, but there should be an inn nearby where we can stay tonight. After that, we.. well, we can figure things out together."

She moved to press her body close to his- partly for comfort- And well... she was damn cold. 
"An inn would be nice.." she shivered, nestling in even closer as they walked. "But are you sure we're anywhere near a town?" All she could see all around them were over grown thickets and trees.

As Damien and Missendria moved away from the shoreline, a subtle smile graced Damien's lips. The proximity between them seemed to invite a comforting embrace, and he responded by gently wrapping his arm around her. The cool air and their wet clothes prompted the need for warmth, but more importantly he just wanted to hold her again. Damien's gaze wandered across the serene surroundings, revealing a landscape dominated by trees with no immediate sign of a nearby town.

"Honestly, I have no idea," he admitted. "Perhaps wishful thinking. We could set up camp and I could start a fire, but.. a bed sounds nice right about now."

She shivered and moved closer to his body.
"I just want to get warm. But ugh, a bed sounds heavenly," she admitted, sighing as the sea of trees appeared endless. 

"So.. you know anything about making camp? Cause unless I can flash my leg at someone, I'm pretty much useless out here."

"Ma'am," he replied playfully, "I think I'd rather you flash your leg for me."

He couldn't help his cheeks flush hot as he spoke, before quickly adding, "only if you wanted to, of course."

They kept walking, and still the only thing in sight were trees. Why were there so many damn trees off of the coastline? The idea of sleeping in a warm bed was beginning to seem unattainable, and so he swallowed his frustration and stopped when they were in a secluded enough clearing.

"I can set up camp, build us a fire," he said, holding her hands for reassurance. "I don't think we can hold out on stumbling into town at this rate. And no, you're not useless. You just being here with me is what keeps me going."

She couldn't help but smile at that remark. But kept quiet as they searched for a civilization, or in this case- atleast a suitable campsite.

At his last comment, she raised a brow at him.

"I guess I'm atleast an attractive crutch," she mused. "But I can atleast help you with that.  What do you need. Sticks? Logs? Mud? A four poster bed?"

He smirked at her comment, before abruptly, and almost unknowingly, kissing her on the forehead. "Sticks for kindling would be great."

With his mind set, Damien embarked on the task of setting up camp within the labyrinth of trees and undergrowth. The moon cast sporadic beams through the thick foliage, providing only fleeting glimpses of his surroundings.

Undeterred by the limited visibility, Damien began working on a makeshift tent using materials easily accessible like fallen limbs and foliage, relying on muscle memory and touch to navigate the intricate process. Fingers fumbled with makeshift tent stakes as they sank into the soft earth, their placement guided more by instinct than sight.

The crackling leaves underfoot and the distant hooting of an owl served as a backdrop to Damien's efforts. With the tent finally standing, he set out to build a spot nearby to use for a campfire. He worked on collecting the main source for the flame while he awaited Missendria to return with the kindling.

"You're sticks for kindling are great,"- she almost joked, but the words never left her lips. She hated that her personality was so affected by all that had occurred. Instead, she just smiled at him and went about collecting sticks. 

She was thoroughly lost in thought, having found a dry place with some good sticks to use and was bent over when she felt something curl up her leg.

She chuckled, trying to look over her shoulder to see what Damien was up to- he could never keep his hands from her- could he? But her hair obscured her view. 

"D-damien- what are you doing?"

Then she felt him slither up between her skirt. Her skin bumped over as she shivered, having missed this attention too much. 

"D-damien! Can't you wait to hav- " it was then she moved herself so she could finally see- it was not Damien man handling her up her skirts..

it was .. Kia's name - a snake!!!

As Damien continued his tasks, a subtle impatience tugged at him as he pondered Missendria's prolonged absence. Finishing up, he decided it was time to go looking for her, drawn not only by the need for kindling but also by a more intimate thought that lingered in his mind. Shuffling through the dense trees and thicket, he aimed for the general direction where he last glimpsed her.

His anticipation heightened with each step, the quiet rustle of leaves underfoot amplifying the suspense. A sense of urgency spurred him forward, a mixture of concern and the desire to share a private moment with Missendria. As he approached the spot where he thought she might be, the foliage began to thin, revealing a scene that instantly shattered the tranquility of the moment.

There she was, Missendria, but an unexpected sight caught Damien's attention. A snake, of all things, had coiled itself around her leg.

Okay. How to handle this?

"Um, honey," Damien said with a hushed hesitation. "You have a snake on you."

Nailed it.

Although she couldn't really see Damien, she ground her teeth and was glaring at his response.

"No shit," she hiss through clenched teeth.
She remained rigid, not sure how to react. Knowing her luck the damn thing would be poisonous. 

"Can you.. like... knock it off.. with a stick?" She asked as she felt it disapear up her skirt entirely and held back a yelp. 

Fuck!

"Sorry, buddy, but that's mine," Damien hastily remarked as he hurried toward Missendria. Panic flickered in his eyes, but he acted without hesitation, slipping his hand up her skirt, seizing the snake, yanking it away, and tossing it into the distant woods for some temporary relief.

Once the serpent was dealt with, Damien positioned himself in front of Missendria, his back to her, adopting a protective stance as if guarding her from an impending horde.

This time- Missendria did yelp. Infact, she nearly jumped clean out of her skirts.  Then she whirled around and clobbered Damien with the sticks she had collected.

"What we're you doing!?" She shrieked. "Were you trying  to get me bit!?"

Ow!

Whirling back to face her, he admitted, "I don't know!" A defensive tone accompanied a slightly amused smile. "Element of surprise, I guess? I panicked!"

Missendria's face grew redder. 
"Damien!" She'd have thrown more sticks at him of she could. But she'd already clobbered him with it. 

She sighed and haughtily moved to pick the sticks back up.

Oh good. He was being scolded now.

"Yes ma'am, I mean- Sorry, Missendria," he uttered, his voice slightly deflated from the events of the night. As she gathered the bundle, he knelt down to assist, rising with his share of the load. Casting her a quick glance and a sheepish smile, he suggested, "I've got camp ready. Let's head there and get this fire started, so you can warm up."

She was trying to calm down, as she supposed she ought to be lucky she hadn't been bitten by the snake and just gave him a curt nod as she followed his lead. By the time they returned to their little make shift campsight, Missendria was about ready to set the kindling down when she noticed something moving against the grain- and she froze- then screamed as she tossed the sticks into the air- inadvertently catapulting the large spider she saw directly at Damien's face.

Damien's hands tightened around the kindling as he prepared to ignite the fire, the crackling anticipation of warmth in the chilled night air. Suddenly, the serenity shattered into chaos with the shrill sound of Missendria's scream. Startled, Damien's grip faltered, and the kindling fell from his hands, the crackling potential of a fire replaced by unexpected outburst.

He couldn't see what had prompted her distress, but the tension in the air became palpable. And then, he felt it—the chilling, skittering sensation on his face. A cold shiver ran down his spine as his own scream joined Missendria's in a discordant symphony of panic. His hands flailed wildly at his face, the desperate attempt to dislodge the unseen intruder turning his composed demeanor into a frenzied dance of terror.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!"

The arachnid, a stealthy stowaway in their journey, had chosen the worst possible moment to reveal itself. Damien's heart raced, his mind overwhelmed by the unexpected intrusion. Panic coursed through him as he frantically tried to shake off the unwelcome creature, his movements resembling a chaotic, involuntary dance. Each shiver down his spine mirrored the spider's descent beneath his shirt, turning the peaceful moment into a frantic struggle against an unseen foe.

In a desperate bid to rid himself of the unwelcome intruder, Damien's hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Panic etched across his face as he discarded the garment, hoping to reveal and expel the arachnid. Yet, in this frantic attempt at liberation, the spider, cunning and relentless, eluded his grasp. A jolt of horror surged through him as he felt it scuttle downward, navigating the intricate landscape of his pants.

Driven to the brink, Damien's response escalated into a full-fledged frenzy. His shoes were kicked off hastily, followed by the abrupt removal of his pants. In the moonlit darkness, the scene unfolded like a surreal dance, a man possessed by the relentless pursuit of a tiny adversary, rendering him both defenseless and completely in the nude.

With nowhere left to hide, Damien's eyes zeroed in on the spider, now perched precariously on his knee. Swiftly, he seized the creature between his fingers, a surge of adrenaline coursing through him. With a burst of determination, he flung the tiny adversary away, a testament to both his triumph and the unexpected turmoil it had induced. As the spider sailed through the air, propelled by Damien's cathartic release, he stood there, breathless and hunched over, the taste of victory mingling with the lingering embarrassment of the spectacle. Through strained breaths, he managed to utter, "Got 'em."

At first, Missendria watched in horror as the spider wriggled and climbed all over Damien- but then the man was literally taking off his shirt and she found herself staring and suddenly on the ground and laughing as he dropped his trousers and tossed them aside in a panicked rushed.

And her eyes were in tears. And her stomach ached from laughing so hard it was nearly impossible for her to breath.

She held onto her belly, trying to stifle her laughs but.. well...

Damien was now standing before her...Completely naked (well.. boots aside) and .. although she felt a little guilty for it- (for she had been the cause of it...) she just couldn't not laugh.

"Oh.. oh.. Damien.. please just.. I.. this..." she was choking on sobs of laughter, nearly on her belly again from it all as she managed to finally choke out..

"I don't think you were this fast when you wanted to have sex with me! Should i.." she laughed. "Should I be jealous of how quickly you got naked for a spider?"

Damien's cheeks burned with embarrassment, and he almost scolded her but managed to summon a sheepish grin. The situation he found himself in was rather silly. "Oh, shut up," he retorted playfully.

However, the crisp night air felt more forgiving now that he was fully exposed, free from the weight of the soaked clothes he had just shed. Starting a fire might not only warm him up but also help dry his clothes until they could reach a town for a fresh change.

"Well," he said, looking at her with an expectant tone, "What are you waiting for? Get undressed."

At that, she quirked a brow at him.

"Excuse me?"

Damien's grin held a playful and slightly mischievous charm. "Get undressed, my lady," he repeated, casually approaching her in his outfit. Gesturing towards the campsite and the improvised firepit, he added, "You'll feel warmer shedding those wet clothes, and they'll dry faster by the fire once I light it. What did you think I meant?"

Although his words sounded innocent, the mischief in his eyes betrayed a different intention.

She was still wiping away her tears when she realized he was moving closer. 

"Well, you're sorely mistaken if you think I'm just going to shed my clothing as if a spider were molesting me." She folded her arms across her chest, and lifted her chin. 
"My clothes can dry while I wear them."

His smug smile faded, yet his eyes retained a certain admiration as if she were the best thing that had ever happened to him. "You're cute," he declared abruptly, throwing her a pouty grin before turning away, adding, "suit yourself."

Using the kindling they had collected and a dash of his magic, he skillfully ignited the fire. Taking a cue from his resourceful nature, he fashioned a makeshift clothesline from gathered materials, allowing his wet clothes to hang near the crackling flames. Seating himself in front of the open fire, his bare ass imprinted the dirt.

Missendria just stubbornly watched him, but her eyes gave her away. They always did, as they held a playfulness, and fondness, one could only have towards a lover.

"You know.." she began, strolling across their make shift camp site.  "I wouldn't be surprised if your bare ass wasn't a beacon to draw in more spiders." She smirked and eyed him from over her shoulder as she walked by, her clothing plastering her form and it was evident by certain features that she was cold

"I would simply defeat them again," he stated with confidence, though inwardly, he wished for anything but dealing with that again.

His gaze lingered on her as she walked, each step feeling agonizingly slow and torturous to him, her figure visibly outlined by the wet clothes she wore.

"Hey, come sit with me," he urged gently. "I'll keep you warm."

It was only then she was reminded of the cold and she looked down. Then she smirked and raised a brow at him.

"Oh? And just how does your naked ass aim to keep me warm?" She mocked.. well, teased, rather and planted a hand on her hip.

He returned a loving smile and said, "I just want to hold you for a bit. Promise."

He felt like he was bordering on begging, but didn't rightly care.

She was honestly surprised at that and her smile grew softer.

"Maybe I'll allow it," she went on, taking the most painfully slow step on his direction. "But I don't know if it's safe over there.."

He couldn't help but smile at the irony there: if safe was what she was after, she chose the wrong lover. He decided not to comment on that though.

"Please," he urged again, his voice playful and affectionate. "I just want to cuddle you."

"Hrmm.. I don't know. How am I to feel safe," she went on, finally daring to approach but keeping herself at arm's reach.  "When you're still naked." She smirked abd leaned closer. "What would happen if that spider returns?" She gave a little pout, but it was hard to keep back her smile.

Damien playfully grew impatient, and as she leaned closer, he swiftly shot his hands out, enveloping hers in his grasp. "Oh, the spiders don't stand a chance with me around," he teased, giving her a playful tug that resulted in her ending up directly on top of him.

She yelped, falling onto his lap but managing to evade hitting her head against his as one hand braced her against his bare chest . She gave a breathy laugh.
"Damien..." she seemed to reprimand, but wrapped an arm around him.
"Apparently I don't stand a chance either. "

Gently wrapping his arms around her, a triumphant smile graced his lips as he lovingly kissed her forehead, allowing his chin to rest atop her head. "The feeling is mutual," he expressed, his fingers affectionately massaging the back of her scalp. "And I'm glad for it."

She'd never admit it, but she was glad she had him.  She felt uncharacteristically comfortable around him, like she could shed an unseen weight. They still truly barely knew one another- but their personalities sizzled together and the attraction was undeniable. 

She made a soft noise of appreciation as he massaged her scalp, before nestling into him and resting her face into the crook of his neck. A hand smoothed up his bare chest as he just let herself take in the feel, the warmth, the smell of him.

"I missed you," she said softly, recalling their time apart. She had begun to appreciate the attentions of a lover's touch- and also their presence. She has been alone for too damn long. She missed fitting together with someone like two pieces of a puzzle. 

"I missed you."

The simple phrase ignited an unexpected wave of happiness within him. His arms instinctively pulled her closer, his embrace a blend of affection and protection. "Me too," he responded, the words carrying a warmth that mirrored the sentiment.

In the midst of the woods, he felt a peculiar sense of exposure, his vulnerability laid bare while she remained veiled by her clothing. Oddly, he welcomed it. His desire extended beyond mere physical connection; it was an intimacy he craved, unrelated to anything as mundane as exercise. This unique situation had unfolded organically after the spider incident.

Gently slipping a finger beneath her chin, he guided her face to meet his. "Can I have a kiss?"

She made another soft sigh of appreciation as he held her closer. This was all she wanted out of life, this was all she needed.

As his finger guided her face to look upon his, he'd be able to see the oceanic depth of her answer before she cupped  his face and leaned in to give him a long and sensual heated kiss.

If she was going to kiss him, she'd do it well and not play coy when she very well she knew what her heart and body wanted. So she continued to deepen the kiss, her tongue seeking his as she pressed her body closer into his.

Damien responded eagerly, somehow pulling her into an even tighter embrace. His hand embarked on a journey down her back, exploring her sides and gently resting on her hips. Simultaneously, his other hand cradled her cheek with delicate tenderness. In that intimate moment, the realization struck him—he hadn't fully grasped how much he had missed her and how desperately he needed this connection.

"I'll be patient for you," he whispered between breaths, punctuating each pause with a tender kiss. "But," another kiss followed, accompanied by a breath, "I love you." Once more, his words carried the weight of sincerity, "Don't ever forget that."

She stared at him through a hazey, half lidded gaze; with sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks. 
She still felt herself afraid to say it, afraid to confess as he so naturally expressed. Instead, she leaned in do their bodies were intimately pressed as she kissed him over and over again.

"Make love to me," she said, breath husky and she- drunk on heat and desire.  Still she kissed him. "Keep me warm.." she moaned.

His eyes gleamed with eagerness at her request, and almost instinctively, he responded with a kiss while deftly unbuttoning her top. Sensation surged through him with each passing second, rendering him increasingly tense. "Yes, ma'am," he whispered into her ear, punctuating the words with a nibble before his lips traced her neck.

In a seemingly eternal moment, Damien skillfully shed her layers, an act that felt urgent as he positioned himself on top of her, driven by their shared desire. The warmth and tightness enveloping him slowed his usual pace, his gaze remaining locked, intent on savoring every moment of the intimate connection.

The noises she made as her legs hooked around him as they joined could not be contained.  He'd feel her hot sex tighten around him and spasm and squeeze as each movement into her was tasted by the sensations of their bodies moving together with need.

Her eyes rolled back as she clung to him and panted, "By the gods, why do you feel do damn good inside me?" For sge was quickly building that natural high, trembling even though they'd only just begun. But she was so tight and spun up from their times apart.

And she needed him. Kia's name; she needed him bad. So she clung to him, moaning her desperation as she moved in undulating, rising need. 

She felt so good.

Rising above her, he supported himself with arms firmly planted on the ground on either side of her head. Her legs wrapped around him, nails digging into his back, setting his senses ablaze, driving him mad. Initiating deliberate and excruciatingly slow thrusts, he teased her with every deliberate movement, their lips locking, parting, and locking again in shared passion.

She panted, clinging to him as he continued to draw out their pleasure with steady movements, steady, elongated thrusts. She whimpered, hands tangling into his hair as she felt their bodies just need one another.

She trembled, clinging, holding him close unto her as she writhed up and into each movement he'd sink within her. She was utterly captivated with their union, the moonlight spilling in lines through the trees above.

"Gods.. I think I could love you, Damien," she moaned, burying herself against him, giving him a deep and needful kiss. 

I think this could be love.

His affectionate smile widened as he kissed her back, syncing with his slow, hungry thrusts. "I love hearing you say that," he breathed, completely lost in the moment.

His torso lowered slightly, allowing one of his hands to grip her hips, giving a firm squeeze for leverage as he approached his peak.

"I know I love you," he whispered, his forehead resting against hers and they both neared climax.

She whimpered, reveling in the way he worshiped her- in body and soul. She moaned, clinging to him
"G.. gods..Damien," she squirmed beneath him, growing impatient and the need rising to near unbearable levels. "Gods.. please.. gods.." she panted and began to buck beneath him wildly. "Gods.. please fuck me, Damien. Fuck me hard."

Because she needed to scream. 

And she needed him to take her there.

"Oh, really?" he playfully remarked, countering her request with a deliberately slow and teasing thrust. "Is this what you had in mind?" he added, savoring each deliberate and torturously slow movement.

Deciding patience had run its course, he leaned in for a fervent kiss, nibbling her lower lip before taking control and engaging in a rapid, intense, and unrestrained encounter. Their passion unfolded in various positions – from behind, on top – as the moonlit sky silently observed their love amidst the cacophony of ecstatic cries and moans, drowning out the crackling flames.

"Damien!" She whined, body so hot and wet and insatiable.  How could he be so cruel? How could he tease her?

And then he took her. In so many ways she was begging him, crying for him and screaming out his name into the night.

Eventually she was on top. She was on control, and she moved against him body with need, riding him for all he was worth.

Eventually she peaked, over and over again, she was so riled up. Oh how she needed him on this way and soon she was laying in a heap of pants upon him, her sweat slicked body glowing golden I'm the dancing fire light. She shivered, nestling into him as she curled her toes.

"Gods.." she trembled again.  "Gods how I needed that."


How I needed you.

Their harmonious moans echoed, synchronized movements and undeniable passion extending their intimate dance for what seemed like hours.

Damien experienced a new realm of pleasure, achieving multiple orgasms in a single session, a sensation he had never encountered before. His body, covered in sweat, held a blend of tightness and relaxation, breaths heavy in the aftermath of their intense connection.

As the fervor began to subside, Damien's lips sought hers, one hand tenderly cradling her face. Breathily, he asked, "Again?" a hint of humor in his tone, only partially jesting.

She laughed breathily but moaned. Gods.. did her body want more? It sure felt like it as she shivered against him. Feeling him inside her, especially as he had already filled her up so many times....

"You know..." she said between pants. "Most men are lucky to have one orgasm before they fall asleep." She smiled anyway, leaning into his hand and sighing contentedly. "But I'd never mind another round either with you inside me." She flushed at that before looking up into his eyes. 

Then she smiled as shr recalled all the times they've had sex.

"But to be fair.. I'm not sure anything can top us accidentally having sex in the closet.." she shivered at rhe memory. "I... might have used that memory a few times when I was alone and.. needed the pick me up."

She looked into his eyes, a love unspoken there. 

"Gods..." she began to move her hips again. "Why am I so addicted to you?"

Oh gods. She was grinding on him, teasing him, again. His cock, a blend of soreness and appreciation, found solace inside her warmth once more. Gripping one of her hips with his right hand, the other traversed a sensual journey, trailing up her stomach, lingering over her breasts, until his finger slipped teasingly into her mouth.

"Closet sex was peak us," he grinned, mischief flickering in his eyes. "So hot and naughty." With a swift motion, he seized control again, rolling her onto her back, and resumed their intense connection with heavy coordinated thrusts. "But tonight is perfect."

She gasped as she found herself on her back and Damien was bucking into her. She could feel him balls deep inside her, her own eyes rolling back until she was seeing her brains. 

She clung to him madly and cried out again as she was taken. And the pure need drive them onward, she begging him, screaming his name until she finally met the heavens and crumpled into a heap beneath him- throat raw and body utterly satisfied-

And as she lay there, she knew she should be more concerned with just how much of him was inside her but...

But..

It felt too good.

And although she knew they should be more careful...
That was part of the pleasure. How they deliciously surrendered to just being and needing. She had never been this reckless of a lover with Obrin..

Infact she made sure he made good on his pull out game.


But Damien? Why was it that she just wanted the whole, raw thing? Did she want those consequences out of him?

For now..

She was just content on letting him just fill her up and she- reveling in the maddening after glow.

Of course.. as she thought on it..

Part of her had to wonder...
Wasn't she... a little.. late this cycle?

She tried to brush the idea outside of her head, after all...

She couldn't just have gotten pregnant already.. if she had....

It meant Damien had done more with her in the closet than intended.


She sighed, honestly annoyed it was plaguing her mind now. She wanted to simply bask in this moment of bliss with nothing else on her mind.

Gods did she ever love him. But why was she so eager to do this and ignore the consequences yet not consider the yearning in her heart?

And for it, she opened her eyes to look at him, and a part of her truly, wonderfully wanted to confess.

But the truth was in her eyes.

After Damien and Missendria finally calmed their intimate connection, the flickering fire cast a warm glow over their naked bodies. Their breaths gradually steadied as they gazed at each other with a shared tenderness that transcended words.

Sensing the depth of her emotions, Damien leaned in to place a gentle kiss on her lips. As their mouths met, he whispered softly, "I know." In that moment, the quiet acknowledgment carried the weight of understanding.

He didn't need her to say it back. He just needed her.

She blushed and lowered her gaze, ashamed. They've shared so much- danger.. their bodies.. and obviously their hearts...yet her wounds were deep and she hid her face against his shoulder as she lay against him. A hand smoothed down his bare chest.

She hated that her feelings were so obvious in her eyes.

Yet...

Her damn tongue did not speak.

Except for the clever quip of...

"You know.. you're kind of messy.." she squirmed a bit at the mess between her legs.

His face was a mix of a blush and a guilty smile, his eyes speaking volumes of his love before he kissed her cheek and wiggled off of her. She was right. He may have been a clean killer, but he was a messy lover. He knew it was a dangerous game they were playing, but when he was with with her, he got lost and couldn't stop himself to giving her all of him.

"Yeah," he agreed, his eyes scanning for something that could help her clean off. "I.. uh, get a little lost in the moment."

She lazily watched from from where she lay, golden hair a mess around her, her entire body flush yet beginning to succumb to the chill of rhe night. 

"I almost wish we were back in the river." She went to move but winced. 

Yes.. he was a very messy lover.

Surveying the limited options in the wooded surroundings, Damien sought a solution to help Missendria clean off. His gaze landed on his shirt hanging from the makeshift clothesline, now sufficiently dry. Plucking it from the string, he approached her with a thoughtful expression.

"Here," he offered, extending the shirt toward her. "Use this. It should do the trick."

He would just get a new shirt later, he decided.

She gave him a flat look.

"I won't take your shirt." She sighed and sat up, glancing around and shivering in the cold. "I'm sure I could find leaves or something to wipe you offa me," she added with a smirk.

"But maybe I should just be used to your messes." She carefully rose to her feet but well...


Damien had been generous in his deposits and gravity was taking it down her legs.

"Just keep that fire going. I'll see what I can do to get cleaned up."

Damien grinned sheepishly, observing his love's hot and sticky aftermath and silently musing, "Gross."

He complied with her request, tending to the fire by adding more kindling and wood. Employing a touch of his elemental magic, he guided the materials into the flames, which continued to cast a warm glow across their campsite. With the shirt in hand, now just dry enough, Damien decided it was time to dress once more. He opted for an unconventional sequence, slipping into the shirt before plucking the pants off the line and donning them afterward. It felt like an out-of-order way to dress, but in the unpredictable world he found himself in, nothing seemed to go exactly as planned.

She returned a little time later, feeling a little cleaner- but well.. until she bathed.. his residual mess would linger. She'd likely smell like him too until then.

She returned to the campfire, prodding at her dress , which was dryer than it had been and contemplated dressing or just letting the thing get fully dry.

She then turned her eyes towards the fire.

"We should probably address .. us.. moving forward," she started, clearing her throat. Then she looked at him.

"For starters... I... don't exactly have.. much in the means of free will. I.. more or less.. am owned by someone and have to fulfill my contract until the full payment it entails have been satisfied.  It.. I.... it wasn't a small sum." She grew quiet, the fire dancing.

"I'm bringing this up because as much as I'd love to.. to try to have this kind of relationship... it... you'll turn into a complication that could be used against me.. and sometimes I'll have to do things I'd rather not.. things that could hurt you..."
She looked at him, pain evident in her eyes. But he deserved to know.

Damien's wide and loving smile on her return slowly evaporated at her words. This was unexpected. The face he gave her was like a sour reaction to hearing a poorly tasted joke.

"I'm sorry," he said slowly. "Owned?"

She grimaced. 

"You've met Obrin.. the dick on the ship, remember? Well.. once upon a time he and i... had a thing. I thought it was serious.. true love.. but Obrin couldn't stop gambling.. risking money on ventures far above what he could handle. He.. eventually owed so much money he was basically  owned by the crime Lord known as Opus Dey. I... couldn't stand to see him suffering under the contract.. what he had to do...
"

She shifted uncomfortably. 

"So I went and traded his name off the contract for my own.. and the second he realized he was free.."

She blinked back tears, sighing.

"I was an idiot. Obrin he... he didn't even give it a second thought. He.. thanked me and in the morning.. he was gone."

Obrin...

Opus Dey...

Contract...

Owned...

Damien stood frozen for a moment, his eyes wide with shock as the gravity of the situation sank in. Extreme concern etched lines of worry across his face, the furrowed brow a testament to the depth of his worry. The anger, a simmering undercurrent, began to seep through, fueled by the sense of helplessness that accompanied the shocking revelation. The conflicting emotions churned within him, creating a storm of turmoil that he struggled to contain. His clenched fists betrayed the tension coursing through his veins as he grappled with the unexpected twist that had thrust his emotions into a turbulent mix of shock, concern, and anger.

"Wait.. No. No," he said, taking a step forward.

His heart raced in his chest. The shock lingered, but a newfound determination fueled his words. "I won't let anything happen to you," he declared, his voice firm, as he sought ways to alleviate the burden she carried. "Tell me, how can I get you out of this contract? How much is owed?"

Who all do I need to kill?

Missendria winced at his reaction, lowering her gaze as she considered what he said. Then was quick to protest. 

"Damien.. no.. don't even start to get any ideas. This was my fault and I'm not bringing anyone else in on it. "

Damien's expression shifted to one of frustration, yet he managed to suppress it and swallow his pride. He approached her slowly, placing his hands gently on her shoulders, prompting her to meet his gaze. In a soft tone, he spoke, "Missendria, let me help you. Please. If anything were to happen to you, I..."

His eyes were hot with water that were threatening to meet his gaze. Why did he feel so powerless in this situation? How did he not know about this? "Missendria," he said again, "I love you. We just got here. It's selfish, I know, but.. I'm not ready to give you up."

Guilt twisted inside her gut at his reaction. She hadn't expected  such a passionate response. And if she ever doubted him before..
She felt her own heart melt at his response, even as she felt the gnarled brambles of guilt twist inside. 

She reached out to touch his arm, her own eyes sparkling and threatening with tears. 

This was how she hoped Obrin had reacted to her sacrifice, to her absolution of their love. But now her mistakes were pulling Damien down and she wasn't sure if she could handle that.

"I'm not going anywhere, Damien. Don't be so dramatic," she laughed but it was hollow. "It doesn't change who I am... just what I have to do. We met because of my contract, remember? I was suppose to get information about some Lord Theodore..."

She smiled up at him and cupped his face.

He offered a gentle smile before enveloping her in a warm, tight hug. "I'll be as dramatic as I please," he teased softly. Almost unconsciously, his hand traced patterns on her back, fingers entwined in her hair, while his other arm maintained a close hold. Despite her words, he acknowledged the possibility that he might have to take matters into his own hands.

You'll turn into a complication that could be used against me.. and sometimes I'll have to do things I'd rather not.. things that could hurt you.

Nope. Not going to happen.

"And have you found out more about this Lord Theodore?" he asked, resting his chin atop her head.

"Yeah, apparently he's dead," she told him, without missing a beat. Her expression was serious before a smile cracked through. "Or he's been run off.. but seems the jig is up."

"Oh I don't know," he whispered as his embrace on her held firm. "You may need to investigate him for a while longer. Maybe forever."

He tilted his head down to meet her teary eyes, offering her a smile before leaning in and stealing a kiss.

Gods, he loved her so much.

"Maybe we-"

"Well hi there, ho there! Am I interrupting?"

Their focus on each other was abruptly shattered by the intrusion of an unexpected voice. The melodic chirping of birds and rustling leaves was momentarily overshadowed by the resonance of the approaching figure's words. As the couple turned towards the source, their eyes met a seemingly harmless man, standing amidst the woodland backdrop.

The man was a study in rosy innocence, his overall-clad form reflecting a touch of rustic charm. His cheeks, tinted with a healthy flush, spoke of a life lived close to nature. His figure, slightly heavyset, blended seamlessly with the organic surroundings, creating an illusion of benevolence.

Yet, the forest ambience now held a subtle tension, an unexpected visitor disrupting the private tableau Damien and Missendria had painted. The man's demeanor, though initially benign, left a lingering uncertainty, as if the woods themselves were casting a wary gaze upon this newcomer.

Damien eyed him cautiously, putting himself in front of Missendria. "Um, hi," he responded cautiously. "Who are you?"

Why did he have to speak that way? He was being too sweet to her. Too...-

If Missendria were the shrieking type of woman, she'd have shrieked. Instead, she gasped and darted behind Damien's form to hide her nudity, and sheepishly plucked her drying clothing off where it hung before slinking back behind Damien.

He'd likely be hearing her cursing as there was no real easy way to pull on a half soaked dress without revealing herself again as she pressed the dress to her body and worked at loosening the laces.

How long had that man been there!?

Technically, they didn't get interrupted while being intimate this time. Yet, the thought of Missendria fully exposed to this stranger had him clenching his fists, despite the non-threatening aura he was giving off.

The plump man noticed Missendria, almost as an after thought, and quickly turned around with a beet red face - even more red than what looked to be his natural complexion. "I-I'm sorry for the interruption!" he stammered over his shoulder. "I smelled the smoke not too far from my home and-"

"Wait," Damien interjected, still firmly in front of his lover with his eyes scrutinizing the man. "Your home? Is there a town nearby?"

"Oh golly, yes," he said, his voice still tinged with embarrassment. "About five minutes from here. Are you two okay? Do you need help?"

"Do we need help!?" Missendria muttered and growled through her teeth, loud enough that only Damien might here as she worked at frantically getting back into her dress.

To be fair, the man couldn't have known they had survived a river boat sinking and well...

Sometimes you had to get close and create a little heat.. to survive.

Still flushed, she smacked Damien on the shoulder in her own method of letting him know she was decent before shr worked at tieing up her corset strings. 

He felt a thud on the back of his shoulder but chose to stand resolutely between Missendria and this unfamiliar man, just to be cautious.

"If you could show us the way to the nearest inn or even the town, me and my..." Damien's words trailed off, his gaze shifting to a now dressed Missendria. What were they, exactly? A couple? Lovers? For the sake of the act, he settled on something else. "My wife and I were stranded at sea when the ship we were on sank," he explained without delving into further details. "We could use a warm bed and a change of clothes, if you could-"

"Well, the nearest town doesn't have an inn, sir," the man astutely interrupted. Still facing the other direction as if Missendria were still dressing—an erroneous assumption Damien didn't bother to correct. "And the one that does would take hours to get to. Why not come back to my house? My wife is a great cook, and I'm sure we have some spare clothes for you to have."

With her dress securely tied, she stepped beside Damien with a questioning look.

"I'm willing to get out of the weather if you are. " she was pretty cold and her dress- still too damp for her liking - especially since shr couldn't suppress her shivers.

They didn't know this man but.. after what she'd seen Damien do.. she was pretty sure he could handle protecting them.

But.. did he really have to go and claim her as his wife? She'd elbow him for it later. She supposed then being caight.. as they had been.. it'd make sense.

"The boat trip was suppose to be our honeymoon," she added, tartly.

Perhaps he shouldn't have used the term "wife." Damien had spent enough time with Missendria to pick up on the subtleties – her expressions, mannerisms, likes, and dislikes.

He would definitely get a scolding or an elbow for that later.

Nevertheless, she played along, eliciting a soft and relieved smile. "Right, what a honeymoon," he exhaled, glancing between Missendria and the stranger. Fixing his gaze back on their "guest," Damien said, "Thank you for your kindness. We'd hate to put you out, but if you wouldn't mind..."

The plump and jolly man beamed from behind his shoulder, gesturing with enthusiasm. "Oh, not a problem, sir! Not a problem!" he chirped, a tad too excitedly, before leading the way. "Follow me!"

As they began to follow after the man, Missendria clung to Damien's arm like the good wife that she was- and as they walked, expression sweet- she pinched Damien, hard, on the arm. 

"Wife?" She eyed him with a narrowed gaze. "You're lucky you're cute and a good lay." She sighed through her nose but seemed to lean into him, almost affectionately as they walked.

"It'll be nice to be in doors after all we've been through," she lamented, eyes going distant. "Although.. wait up.m"

She parted away from him, smothering the fire quickly before rejoining him.

"Didn't seem right to just leave the thing burning."

"Well hopefully some day!" be shot back in a whisper almost immediately, letting her lean in close. The moment the words left his lips, he realized that there was a time and a place for everything, and this was not it. Yet, before he could say anything else, she was gone, and then back again.

The man in front of them made serious ground in that short time, his stumpy legs making larger strides than one would think, so he picked up his own pace a bit hoping Missendria would as well.

She tried to ignore his come back. 

Someday?

She bit back any semblance of a smile. Was he that obsessed with her already? Well..
She snuck a glance his way.

As she said..
Atleast he was a good lay.. and cute.

As they walked, she didn't realize how exhausted she was as she continued to lean against him. 

"Let me know when we get there," she said, closing her eyes as she rested her head against him. But it seemed they wouldn't have to walk incredibly long, before she noted the smoke from a nearby chimney. She didn't see any other houses, but likely this man and his wife lived on the outskirts of whatever town was close by. 

"You think his wife is actually a good cook?" She asked him. She wasn't sure if she could eat.. although she could tell she ought to eat something. 

"At this point, I'll eat anything," he whispered back, giving her arm a gentle tug.

As Damien and Missendria trailed the jolly man through the dense woods, a small cabin emerged from the shadows. Its wooden exterior showed signs of weathering, and a thin trail of smoke curled upward from the chimney, signaling a flicker of warmth within. The quaintness of the cabin possessed a certain charm, though an underlying sense of peculiarity lurked beneath its rustic facade.

Eager to help Missendria escape the chill, Damien followed as the man pushed open the creaking door, revealing a humble interior. The room was dimly lit by the fireplace's glow, casting a warm, flickering ambiance across the timeworn furniture. A threadbare rug covered the wooden floor, and the mismatched chairs seemed to have stories of their own to tell.

From the depths of the cabin, a woman emerged, her face breaking into a wide, toothy smile. Her appearance was welcoming, yet there was something almost too ready in her demeanor. "Oh, honey bun! You didn't tell me we was havin' company!" she exclaimed, her voice carrying a folksy warmth that contradicted the lingering unease in the air.

"Oh you know how I like surprising you, pumpkin!" he called back excitedly before turning to their guests. "Sit, sit!" he gestured toward the kitchen table. "I'll go fetch ya some fresh clothes!"

Missendria gave Damien a look.

Honey bun? Pumpkin?

She discretely wrinkled her nose at it. If Damien ever wanted a sugary nick name- she'd probably call him sugar dick. And hold a serious face about it. And say it in public.

Either way, she'd act polite as she could. She was thankful for the hospitality and the offered help.

"You sure you don't want any help?"Missendria asked, moving towards the chairs but not sitting down. She didn't actually wish to help, but she wasn't entirely uncultured enough not to offer.

Damien gave Missendria an equal look.

Pumpkin? Honey bun?

He loved Missendria with all of his heart, but If she ever wanted a cute little nickname like that, he wouldn't know where to start. Cream machine, maybe? No, that was likely more of him. Sugar tits? Warm box?

"Oh don't you worry bout a thing sweet pie!" the woman assured Missendria.

While Damien and Missendria settled at the table, their unexpected hosts swiftly presented an array of food and drinks. The speed at which the meal was prepared seemed almost preternatural, as if they had been eagerly anticipating their arrival, providing just enough for four. The couple engaged in conversation with a distinctive southern twang as they sat in their own chairs.

"My Paw always said, your guests shouldn't have to work! Ain't that right, sweetie dumpling?" the wife remarked, prompting her husband to reply with earnest affirmation, "That's right, honey bunches! Paw sure had a way with his words."

...Paw?

Damien couldn't shake off a feeling of unease, contemplating the term "Paw" and glancing at Missendria with a subtle sense of bewilderment. "Our Paw was a fine feller! I sure do miss him," the husband continued.

Another look at Missendria.

..."Our" Paw?

Before he could address it, the husband produced a sizable jar of what appeared to be shine.

"This here is the good stuff," he declared. "How about a toast to good comp'ny?"

Missendria was always on edge around new people. Sure, she could outwardly act as though she was some extroverted woman, but inside she held too many thoughts that plagued her constantly. Her main issue being trust.


The idea she needed to trust this older couple, especially after such an endeavor... it was enough to make her sick. Infact, she hadn't realized just how sick she was until the food was placed infront of her. Her gut twisted at the smells and she found she was actually rather hungry-

Too bad the liquid moonshine in the jar was all her nausea needed to kick her over- and suddenly Missendria was running for the door, a hand over her mouth as she disappeared outside-

To where she stumbled to a halt nearby the building and vomited into the tall weeds.

The air inside the quaint little cabin hung heavy with tension, the strange couple's unsettling behavior having cast an eerie shadow over the room. Damien's sharp eyes noticed Missendria's sudden pallor, her complexion turning ashen as if the weight of the world had descended upon her shoulders. Concern etched across his features, he opened his mouth to inquire about her well-being, but before he could utter a single word, she abruptly rose from her chair and dashed towards the door.

The distant sound of her retching beyond the door grated against Damien's nerves. A myriad of thoughts raced through his mind, a cascade of worries and possibilities. Was she unwell due to the events of the day? Or could it be something else entirely? The unsettling suspicion that she might be pregnant sent an unexpected chill down his spine. He had been far from cautious, and his mind whirred with the potential consequences of their recent encounters. Yet, he swiftly dismissed these thoughts, choosing to focus on her immediate well-being.

His gaze flickered towards the peculiar couple at the table, a growing suspicion gnawing at him. A sudden decision gripped Damien, and he excused himself from the table, taking a shot of the shine to ease his nerves and try to remain somewhat grateful - and to soothe the gnawing sense of unease accompanying him -  before he approached the door.

As he stepped outside, the crisp night air offered little relief. "Missendria? Are you okay?" he called out with genuine concern. However, his own equilibrium faltered. The weight on his shoulders intensified, his vision blurred, and an overwhelming sensation of dizziness consumed him. With a staggering stumble, Damien crumpled to the ground, unconsciousness enveloping him like a suffocating shroud.

In the hazy realms between consciousness and oblivion, he caught fleeting glimpses of the strange couple, sinister smiles stretching across their faces as they hovered ominously over him. The world faded to black.

Missendria groaned. She retched a few times before her stomach was somewhat settled- and then a series of events unfolded before her she hadn't expected.

Damien following after was somewhat expected- the man seemed to truly love her. It was still strange to her- that they had fallen into each other's lives this way... buy when had anything she'd ever done been planned? Eith Obrin, before- she hadn't meant to fall so deeply in love. And now...?

She started when she saw Damien suddenly collapse. 

"D.. Damien!"

Immediately the sickness was an after thought and she was on her knees beside him, gently trying to shake him awake. She kept saying his name before she realized he was atleast only unconscious but not dead.. not that it made her any less concerned but...

When she caught sight of the couple looming , she immediately tensed and a bad feeling chilled her gut. She grit her teeth, not wanting to seems accusatory, but the way they looked...
Those weren't concerned expressions. 

"What did you do to him?" She asked carefully, guarded, her body tense as she leaned over Damien's form protectively. 

The couple exchanged sinister glances as they observed Damien's unconscious form, their mouths curling into twisted grins. The wife, with a voice that oozed malevolence, mocked, "Looks like your man can't handle his alcohol."

Before Missendria had time to react, the husband chimed in, "Quick, tie up the girl while I bring him inside."

The man's plump fingers gripped Damien's unconscious leg, and with a sinister chuckle, he started dragging him towards the house. "Dinner is served!" he proclaimed with a twisted glee, the chilling words echoing through the air.

The wife set her sights on Missendria.

So much happened within that moment, and perhaps if she were some other woman she'd be completely taken off guard and near useless in helping her unconscious lover- but Missendria didn't live the good life a newly wed woman ought to- with long talons of a powerful man manipulating her every move.. she had grown calloused to the darker aspects of our world...
And also adapted in the way do she could survive.  So Missendria wasn't going to simply let the elderly couple with their putrid nicknames, come along and simply believe whatever sinister plan they had in mind would actually work.

So when the man moved to drag Damien away, she dodged away from the wife and dropped down beside Damiens form and threw her whole body weight into the man's leg. She could feel him losing him balance and she scrambled away, eyes going towards a farmer's hoe resting against the building nearby and she fetched it up snd swung it warningly towards the old woman.

"Either of you touch him and let's see what happens!" She all but taunted.  She was tired, she was sick- but she was a fighter who simply refused to just give up. Years of being worked by Opus Dey left her becoming resourceful- and also she knew how to watch her own back.  She kept her eyes darting between the man and woman, a dangerous glint to her eyes.

The confrontation escalated quickly just outside the home of the strange couple. Missendria, fueled by a surge of adrenaline, threw her weight into the husband, causing him to lose balance. A sickening crack echoed through the air as his leg bent unnaturally, and an agonized yell pierced the tension. He crumpled to the ground, writhing in pain.

In a surprising display of determination, the frail wife lunged at Missendria, her eyes ablaze with a fierce protectiveness. Despite her delicate frame, she fought with a fierce tenacity, aiming to defend her injured husband.

Unbeknownst to them, the sedation administered to Damien proved to be less potent than anticipated. Damien began to stir, his consciousness emerging from the depths of sedation. His vision flickered in and out like a faulty bulb, registering the chaos unfolding around him. In his hazy state, he struggled to make sense of the scene, the blurred figures and muffled sounds melding into a disorienting haze.

Act now, think later. His fingertips began to sizzle with fire.

Determined or not, Missendria used that hoe to keep the other back. The hoe gave her length enough to thwart any attempts the woman might dare get near'- the first swing from Missendria cracking against the old woman's knuckles- then she aimed for her damn face.

It kept her back, especially as she flipped the hoe snd nearly raked it down her wrinkled face.

"I don't know what you thought you were planning but you won't be getting away with any of it today!"

She gave another swuling to keep the old woman back- then turned to Crack the old man on the shoulder- knowing exactly where to drive it home that it would hurt.

Disoriented and still in the throes of confusion, Damien, fueled by panic, unleashed a surge of fire magic towards the woman entangled in the struggle with Missendria. The flames quickly engulfed her clothes, sending her into a frantic frenzy as she shrieked and hurried back into the house, presumably to find water to douse the flames. However, instead of diminishing, the scent of smoke intensified, gradually morphing into an ominous forewarning.

As the minutes passed, the ominous scent evolved into a creeping haze that clung to the air, slowly revealing the house succumbing to the encroaching flames. The timeworn walls crackled and groaned under the escalating heat, embers dancing and twirling in a macabre waltz. The gradual crescendo of destruction unfolded, each detail etched into the disbelieving eyes of the onlookers.

Watching his cherished abode succumb to the relentless inferno, the man's anguished cries resonated through the chaotic scene. Pain and despair knitted into his features as the house, which held memories and the presence of a sister-wife now lost, succumbed to the merciless embrace of the flames.

Amidst the tumult, Damien, still dazed from the chaos, found himself inadvertently uttering words that echoed through the cacophony of destruction. "Baby, are you okay?" he groaned, a nickname never spoken before slipping through his lips, unintentional and unexpectedly intimate.

The fire made Missendria freeze. What had gone from madness turned into sheer chaos, and soon the house was a blaze. She shielded herself from the heat, then noted the old man wailing about infront of his home. 

She bared her teeth, hefted the hoe more tightly into her hands and was about to chase the damned fiend off when she heard a voice. 

Damien.

Missendria was at his side in a heart beat- the tool resting against her shoulder as she touched him, looking him over with worried eyed.

"Why are you asking if I'm alright?"

She brushed pesky tears from her eyes and continued to look him over to make sure he was truly alright.

"Are you okay?" She asked, taking his hand and looking into his eyes, closely.

Damien, gritting his teeth against the pain, attempted to reassure Missendria through strained words. "I'm fine," he uttered, though the conviction in his voice was lost in the throbbing ache that consumed his head. As he struggled to rise, a sudden bout of dizziness sent him staggering backward, and he ended up on the ground, seated rather unceremoniously.

Still disoriented and with his head pounding, Damien managed to summon a teasing grin. "Gotta tell you, Missendria. Seeing you fight them off, well... that was fucking hot." He peered up, attempting to focus on her, his eyes locking onto hers with a proud expression.

However, his momentary distraction shattered as his eyes widened in alarm. "Behind you!" Damien urgently exclaimed. The husband, seemingly revived, charged directly at Missendria, intent on catching her off guard.

She planted a hand on her hip.

"Damien... really, what did you even take that got you this messed up?:"
But they were hardly safe, and with Damien's warning she shoved the hoe up her shoulder so it smacked the man on the face. Turning around, she moved to slam the thing clean between his legs, and he fell over, groaning.

She pulled at Damien's arm. 

"Can you stand? Hell.. will you be able to walk?"

The seemed to stop the man in his tracks. Damien entertained the idea of killing him, yet the prospect of allowing him to stew in his guilt, sorrow, and agony proved more gratifying.

"I'll tell you one thing," he breathed, utilizing Missendria as support to rise to his feet, managing to maintain his balance this time, albeit with a subtle shake. "It wasn't moonshine."

Damien scanned the chaotic scene, the flickering flames painting an ominous backdrop to the burning house. The groans of the defeated man echoed, a stark reminder of the tumultuous encounter. His attention shifted to Missendria, her face pale with an unsettling realization, a nagging illness from before this unexpected side quest.

"Let's get out of here," Damien urged, his voice cutting through the turmoil. His eyes briefly met Missendria's, and with a subtle mouthing of the words "underground," he conveyed the unspoken plan.

She frowned but nodded. She still wasn't sure it was wise to allow her, a vessel for Opus Dey, into their secret underground place but...

She supposed this was where her path was leading her- contract or not. 

She allowed Damien to lean against her, the mood somber as she looked at the burning place- then glanced back to the elderly man.

"What about him?" There was some bite to the question- but even she wouldn't outright cry for death.

Damien cast a final disdainful glance at the man hunched over on the ground. "Let him rot."

——

The night enveloped Damien and Missendria as they quietly and discreetly made their way through the winding labyrinth of streets towards the entrance of the underground city. Damien's hesitation lingered, fueled by memories of the tension that surrounded Missendria during their last visit. He stole glances at her, wondering how she would be received this time, how Adella's perception of her might have changed.

As they emerged from the residence, the unfamiliar surroundings left them momentarily disoriented. The transition from the strange house, through the woods, and to the bustling streets confused their senses. It took them a while to discern their location, their surroundings beginning to make sense as they pieced together the puzzle of the hidden city.

Damien, navigating with a quiet determination, led Missendria through narrow passageways and hidden shortcuts. The anticipation of reaching the sanctuary weighed on him, the need to get her somewhere safe becoming more urgent with each step. A mix of emotions tugged at him – relief, worry, and a faint hope that Adella would be willing to hear him out this time.

Finally, they arrived at the concealed entrance. Damien exchanged a glance with Missendria before rapping a specific pattern on the heavy iron door. The muffled sound echoed through the underground chambers. After a brief pause, a small window opened in the door, revealing a pair of eyes scrutinizing them.

"And I shall await you at the dock," Damien uttered, the code words unlocking the entrance. The door creaked open, revealing a rustic solid iron hallway that marked the threshold into the sanctuary. Damien ushered Missendria inside, the warm glow of lanterns and candles illuminating the hidden haven beneath the city.

As they walked further into the heart of the sanctuary, Damien knew that within these walls, he could provide Missendria the safety she deserved, reunite with his team, and face the challenges that awaited him with a semblance of control.

"Damien!"

Amidst the dimly lit hallways, Damien's gaze was drawn upward, and he found himself locking eyes with Adella. Her appearance was a stark departure from the formidable figure Damien had known – weak, pale, with puffy eyes that bore the weight of mourning.

"You're alive!"

They exchanged quiet conversation as they went, both too exhausted to do little else. They had both survived much, and Missendria was ready to forget about it all. It would be so much easier if she could...

Flash backs to the last time they came here rolled around inside her head, making her anxious- despite her attempts to will it away. Did she have anything to truly worry about with him? He'd proven time and time again that he was genuine..
 And she hated that she even bad any reservation.  If she could.. she'd just let herself fall both him, open her heart fully...

Yet.. her heart was not ready for that- and she- too scarred. She she did what she could and simply remained at his side. She wasn't expecting to see the other woman so teared up over Damien- and questioned their relationship- even though she hated the idea it painted her as a jealous lover.

But.. she was also not a complete bitch.  She knew what this woman must be feeling and it wasn't her place to push her away during her sorrow. She let whatever was to transpire here, transpire, but her gaze- as always, would be wary.

Adella's rapid footsteps echoed in the hallway as she approached Damien, her eyes initially filled with sorrow, quickly transforming into relief. Damien tensed, wary of the implications of what appeared to be her approaching embrace, especially with Missendria standing beside him. However, instead of wrapping him in a comforting hug, Adella's hand met his cheek with a resounding slap.

"I thought you had died!" Her voice rang out, drawing the attention of onlookers who began to gather in the hallway. "Damien's back," murmured some, while others cheered excitedly, "Lola's alive! Everyone, Damien's here!"

Feeling the weight of her actions, Adella took a deep breath, her gaze shifting briefly to her palm before returning to Damien. "Meet me in my office once you're settled. I need a full report." With a lingering glance at Missendria, a flicker of skepticism briefly crossed Adella's expression before softening into something resembling guilt. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "for bringing him home to us."

With those words, Adella turned on her heel and briskly walked down the hallway, leaving behind a mixture of emotions swirling in her wake.

Missendria watched the actions transpire- feeling more like a fly in the wall than anything else- before Adella had turned to address her. She nodded in turn, surprised the woman hadn't turned her temper upon her agger she struck Damien.  She would have intervened .. but.. she bad a feeling he might deserve it.

After all.. she herself, may have contemplated such responses and acted upon them in her own life. But once things settled, she turned to Damien and shook her head.

"You should know better than to treat a lady that way," she chastised, before smiling and moving closer. Then more seriously, shr asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Damien responded with a wince, his fingertips gingerly tracing the faint imprint of Adella's slap on his cheek, "I probably deserved that." The sting lingered, a testament to the force behind her reprimand. His gaze drifted downward, tracing the intricate patterns of the iron-clad walls that surrounded them.

Suggesting they make their way to his quarters, Damien led the way with an exhausted stride. The journey through the fortress corridors was silent, save for the echo of their footsteps against the cold stone floor and the occasional shared words.

Upon reaching his quarters, Damien paused at the threshold, his hand lingering on the doorframe for a moment longer than necessary. His gaze swept over the room, taking in the familiar sight of his surroundings with a mixture of resignation and exhaustion. His black book, a constant reminder of his past and the choices that had led him here, lay abandoned on the ground, its pages whispering tales of the work he has done and still had to do.

With a heavy sigh, Damien moved past the book, making his way to the bed with a weariness that seemed to seep into his bones. He lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress, feeling the weight of the day settle upon his shoulders like an oppressive cloak. The urge to report to Adella gnawed at him, a persistent reminder of his duties and obligations, but the exhaustion that washed over him was undeniable.

As he settled onto the bed, Damien kicked off his boots with a tired sigh, feeling the tension drain from his muscles with each passing moment. The offer of company extended to Missendria, a silent invitation for her to join him with a gentle pat on the bed next to where he sat. "Come here," he invited softly, "let's get some rest for now."

Missendria smiled- a genuine curl to her lips that she couldn't hide. With boots aside, she sauntered closer, putting an extra sway to her hips as she walked. Then she plopped herself down right ontop of Damien's prone form and crawled ontop of him real slow. Her long hair ticked against his she looked down at him, cupping his uninjured cheek before kissing softly the other , then leaning down to kiss him long and hungrily upon his lips.

"You deserve some rest," she said, but didn't move and kept her eyes upon his- then leaned in to kiss him again.

It appeared as if rest may not be so easy for him, as evident from his hunger and what rose below his waist.

"Ma'am, you," a kiss back, "make it hard," another kiss before adding, "to rest."

Whether she knew it or not, Missendria had complete control over Damien. It's as if she's become his addiction, a craving that only she can satisfy. Every glance, every touch, sends a rush of euphoria coursing through his veins, leaving him longing for more. She's become his obsession, his drug of choice, and he found himself drawn to her with an intensity that borders on reckless abandon.

"Shall I leave?" She finally asked, smiling through another kiss. Her hair veiled their faces as she looked into his eyes. There was something deeper there, those words unspoken. She smiled again. Then leaned forward, giving him an almost kiss.

"Stay with me," he whispered playfully, a hint of neediness in his tone, before closing the distance between their lips. His hands moved instinctively to her cheeks, gently cradling them as he reclined on the bed, pulling her close to him.

As Damien held her in his arms, his mind wandered back to the unexpected turn his life had taken. Love was never a part of the plan, not for someone like him whose existence was consumed by thoughts of vengeance and retribution. He had always operated on the fringes of society, detached and solitary, believing that attachments only led to vulnerability. Yet, despite his best efforts to remain aloof, fate had a way of intervening.

It started innocently enough, with Missendria crossing his path for reasons unrelated to matters of the heart. She was a puzzle to be solved, a piece of the larger picture he was determined to unravel. But as they spent more time together, Damien found himself drawn to her in ways he couldn't explain. Her warmth, her kindness, her unwavering support began to chip away at the walls he had built around his heart.

Now, as he grappled with the realization of his feelings, Damien felt a profound ache deep within his chest. Love had crept up on him when he least expected it, weaving its way into every fiber of his being until he couldn't imagine his life without her. The thought of losing her sent a shiver down his spine, stirring emotions he had long suppressed.

Despite the risks, Damien knew that he couldn't deny what he felt any longer. Love had found him in the most unlikely of places, and he was powerless to resist its hold. With a heavy heart and a newfound sense of purpose, he resolved to cherish every moment he had with Missendria, knowing that their love was worth any sacrifice.

Their kisses this time spoke volumes of the love that had grown between them. Soft kisses, sweet and foretelling, were interspersed with deeper, warmer kisses that radiated with desire.
And through them, she moaned softly- kisses deepening with the wrestling of their tongues- bodies pressing closely and her own, instinctively trying to make love to him through their clothing.

She smiled, hair a splayed mess about her face and tickling his in turn.

"Everytime we get intimate," she all but purred before she kissed him again. "You seem as ready as when we were in the closet. "
Her violet eyes danced at that, her body still moving- aching at their touching- even clothed.

"I'm always ready for you," was his breathy response as he kissed back. And it was true. His heart, and his cock, ached for her more times than he could count. He wanted her - all of her. It did not matter if it was in a closet, a bathtub, a room, or the woods. He just wanted her.

As his lips trailed down to her neck, he savored the taste of her skin and the sweet scent that enveloped her. His hands roamed her body with an urgency born of longing, pulling her closer to him. Beneath his waist, a primal throb begged for release, aching for the freedom she promised

"Stay with me," he whispered again, his voice filled with a quiet plea as his hands deftly worked to remove her top.

She whimpered at his words, a thrill coursing up her spine and tingling at the back of her skull. The fire he ignited burned powerfully, forcing her to grind harder against him as her need flared.

"Damien," she moaned, panting as he worked at her clothing. "Damien.. gods..."

Yet at his plea... she couldn't help but laugh softly. "And just where are you afraid I'd go?"

Hands raked through his dark hair as she kissed him, her moans vibrating their lips as her own hands helped him to unclothe her. And she couldn't get them off fast enough.

Her body needed him. Her body craved his touch, their bodies uniting in a writhing mess of pleasure.

And her dress opened up, exposing her soft body within. And somewhere in the mess of movement and limbs- they were both mostly naked,- and the moment they were bare on those parts that counted- she let her body sink down on top of him as she shivered in raw pleasure and need.

Her eyes rolled back as she closed them tight, sex gripping his as she began to ride him.

"I'm not.." she panted. "Going anywhere." Her lips found his again.

"I only want to be with you."

Once enveloped by her, he felt a sense of belonging wash over him, a familiar warmth that always accompanied their passionate encounters. Their love knew no bounds—intense, fervent, and wonderfully messy, it consumed them both in its fiery embrace.

Despite his weariness, he matched her every movement, guiding her hips with eager hands as they moved together in a synchronized rhythm. His desire for her was insatiable, a relentless hunger that drove him onward.

Gently cupping her cheek, he drew her closer, their lips meeting in a fervent kiss that ignited their passion even further. Between ragged breaths, he whispered, "I love you, Missendria," the words heavy with emotion as he felt the slow and agonizing pressure build to a electrifying peak.

 "I love you, Missendria."


She shivered at the words, truly feeling them to her core. The warmth and excitement and completeness that they made her feel had her panting and moving faster, wanting him to complete her- wanting him to take her heart. 

"Gods above.. please get on top and fuck me," she begged, surprising herself by her words and raw need as she whimpered and kissed him deep.

Damien needed no further encouragement. He pulled her close, flipping her onto her back with ease and positioning himself above her without missing a beat. But impatience gnawed at him, evident in the urgency of his movements. Each thrust was a blur of motion, his desire for her fueling his passion to a fever pitch. Their lovemaking reverberated off the iron walls of the cramped space, mingling with his own fervent moans of pleasure.

"I love you," he whispered fervently between kisses, his hunger evident in every touch. "I love you more than anything."

With each thrust, his declaration of love echoed through the room, a testament to the depth of his feelings for her.

"Say it back," he begged. "Please!"

There was something to be said about a man making love to a woman, missionary style.  Their eyes could see, their lips could touch and their hearts were closer. Her eyes were far more transparent now as he worked at her, her legs clinging to him, as if afraid to let him go.

Then he repeated the words, and more of her guard broke, eyes glistening as if tears might fall. And she felt each word to her core. It was a powerful profession and it warmed her, thrilled her and she whimpered as he continued to move within her with need.

And he was begging for it.

She whimpered again then cupped his face, kissing him fierce and deep.

"Say it back," he begged. "Please!"

Her lips pulled away, but their faces remained pressed as she held onto him.

"I do.." came her voice, almost croaked and weak. Her eyes had been closed; she was moaning. Then they opened.

"I love you, Damien. "

Finally.

He couldn't explain the overwhelming need to hear those words spill from her lips, but when they did, it was like ecstasy coursing through his veins, igniting a fire within him that burned hotter with each passionate kiss they shared. As their bodies moved together in a passionate dance, he whispered his love for her, his words mingling with the heat of their desire.

The night unfolded in a frenzy of passion, each moment more intense than the last. He worshipped her body with a fervor that bordered on desperation, exploring every curve and contour with reverence and longing. From the depths of missionary to the raw intensity of taking her from behind, their lovemaking was a symphony of desire, each movement a testament to their unbridled passion.

With each thrust, each caress, he poured his heart and soul into their union, his love for her shining bright in every touch and every kiss.

Missendria lay, a single hand draped across her forehead as she swallowed thickly, throat sore and body slick with sweat. Her heart was hammering intensely, and she- too exhausted to do little else once they were spent. Her mind was in a whirl- the sex they just had was insane. She had never felt so content in all her life as she did now- after... how long had they been at it? An hour? Two hours? She couldn't tell, all she knew was she was throughly and completely sated in her exhaustion- not just in body, but her mind and soul felt.. somehow more complete.

She released a long sigh, remaining nestled beside him as she finally caught her breath- even as her heart still raced inside her chest.  A hand moved to smooth across his chest as she rested her head there and smiled as she listened to the rapid beating of his own heart in turn.

She wasn't sure what to say after all of that- she had been screaming so much, the silence now was a luxury.  So she said nothing, and just enjoyed basking in their afterglow.