Chapter Text
Wealth. Luxury. Indentured servitude. Bloody hands beneath white gloves.
Jack Warlow.
She could feel her pulse quicken just from imagining the letters in order. A wave of warmth washed down her back and spread across her skin, caressing her, squeezing her in just the right way to make her heart stutter.
She didn’t even need to look at her booklet to know he owed her a lot, so far deep in the pit he really couldn’t ever hope to get himself out. Even with generations of wealth tied to his last name.
And that’s just where she wanted him.
Under her thumb, tied around her finger, and completely at her mercy. But there was just one teeny tiny issue about all of the above.
She had a crush on the bachelor.
He made feelings stir where others failed so miserably. Even without trying.
He can act like he hates her. He can yell and scream and shout as much as he wants, she can see right through it. She can feel the tether drawing them closer together. She can feel the desire that flows through both of them, that calls them to join and complete one another. He can pretend to resist it, but she knows he will come around once he accepts her advances.
She is now acutely aware of how drenched her underwear are.
No big deal.
‘I pity that boy.’ The Voice murmured, making rage spark and flare into a deep hatred.
“I don’t want to hear anything from you!” She spat with venom, how dare that waste of her cognitive ability dare insinuate anything about her love!
She suppressed a growl of frustration before letting it go with a deep breath.
She fixed her hair, cleared her mind, and moved toward the front gate. The Warlow’s were a very rich family, the fact they had a wrought-iron gate with their crest should be evidence enough of that fact.
But in case that wasn’t blunt enough, there were the meticulously and overly lavish grounds surrounding the house. A polished stone walkway weaved between perfectly manicured bushes and spruce trees.
The golden light of the house gleamed like a beacon, drawing not just the attention of many, but the ire of even more. You don’t get this rich without getting your hands a little dirty after all.
She craned her neck to see the scale of the house, a multi-million dollar mansion with more space than that whole family could have ever hoped to use up.
An army of maids and butlers tended to the inside and out. Cleaning every granule of dust daring to rest on the top of door frames, pruning plants, and tending to overindulgent furniture.
She slinked out of sight as a butler’s eyes searched for the presence looking at them.
...
She had done this exact thing so many times it was all but muscle memory to her at this point. She climbed up onto a window overhang and jumped up to the large second-story balcony and entered the house through the glass doors that didn’t have locks.
Her footfalls didn’t even disturb the strings of the carpet.
She walked a practiced path through the halls of the house, her feet guiding her to the door of whom she adored.
But someone got in her way.
A maid.
The girl couldn’t have been older than 20. Brown hair, brown eyes, a plain face. You could not get more forgettable than her.
She walked out from around a corner and froze upon seeing the Demon, a noise of terror slipping past her lips as her eyes widened. She was stuck frozen in place as the Demon stared her down.
From her perspective, the tall shadowed figure of an intruder stared her down. A spade-tipped tail twitched uneasily behind it, one large horn curved up and back complementing the shape of its skull as deep red eyes bored into the depths of her very soul.
Surely, it had to be the Fallen god herself.
She almost felt bad for the poor maid.
She would shrug, the maid was hardly worth any effort. With a snap and a flick, the girl was struck with a bolt of magic. Her body absorbed the bolt with ease, for a moment she was confused, patting herself uncertainly where the bolt entered her.
She would abruptly gasp as she dropped to her knees, feathers sprouting from her wrists, unfurling and puffing into the soft shapes famous to Kikimoras. Her hair grew longer, pulling itself into a dense frizzle of strands reminiscent of an ungroomed canine. The girl’s hip would jerk as a plumed tail yanked itself out from the girl’s rear making her gasp lewdly as her face was painted a deep shade of crimson from what was probably mind-numbing pleasure.
The maid dropped to the ground, out like a light from a sleep spell potent enough to sedate a Ushi-Oni out of a lust-induced rage. The monsterization was a side effect, but oh well.
Nothing of value was lost.
She stepped past the girl’s body with out even a second glance. Her eyes were locked on the door at the end of the hall.
Where her beloved rested, and bedded for the time being, but she was going to change that. With a few long strides, she crossed the hall and stood before the door of the one who held her heart. She could smell him on the other side of the door, the unique scent of his cologne, soap, and washing detergent that all came together to make the scent of him.
She grasped the doorknob with a hand that was shaking, the nerves too stimulated with the sheer amount of emotion flowing through her at that moment, her pulse fluttering faster than it had any reason too.
She twisted the knob.
Wincing as the quiet clicks and drags of metal filled the deathly quiet home. To humans, the sound was imperceptible, to her, it was nails on a chalkboard.
With a push so soft it would barely disturb a feather, she pushed the door forward, letting the soft light of a candle spill out from the tiny crack in the door she had created.
She pressed a little harder, creating a gap just big enough for her form to slip through. She slipped inside soundlessly, closing the door behind her with a click! So quiet not even a mouse would have reacted to it.
She stood inside the room of her most cherished.
The mere thought caused her legs to quiver.
A grand 4-poster bed sat to her left, to her right was a large wardrobe flanked by a linen closet and a large 3-panel mirror. A little ahead of the wardrobe was a large black changing screen. The folding barrier obscures her view any further into the room.
With a fluttering heart and a few deft steps, she walked past the screen revealing the final piece of furniture.
A grand leather-topped desk sat in the center of the room, backed by a wall of bookcases and a large archway window perfectly behind the desk, framing it.
And the person sitting behind it.
He had grey hair, a family trait of the Warlow’s, he constantly swept it to the side, a thin nose and freckles dotting a path from cheekbone to cheekbone. He had skin so fair that he couldn’t hope to hide his blush, even if he wanted to, it was like oil on water.
Impossible to miss.
And pulling his dashing look together were thick round glasses with a pair of the most beautiful set of grey eyes she had ever seen.
Mostly because he was the only person she knew who had grey eyes, but it still counts right?
He was tending to papers on his desk, still dressed in a white button up and a black vest with a bowtie despite how late in the evening it was.
He looked so cute when he was all dressed up.
‘Still not even anything that special.’ The Voice commented with snark, and despite the Voice literally being in her head, she didn’t hear it. Busy drinking in her beloved’s form.
She wiped away the thin line of drool that escaped her lips before putting on her best smile. He was so engrossed in whatever work he was doing he didn’t notice the large shadow looming next to him, until it threw itself on his desk.
He yelped as she landed on his desk, scattering papers, knocking over a cup of pens, and scaring the daylights out of him. She was now gazing up at him with her head propped up with her hand as she did her best to show off her best features through the thick bulk of her clothes. “Helllooo~” She greeted him with a girlish giggle that had it come from literally anyone else it would’ve been charming. But it was her, he didn’t like her.
Once he got control of his racing heart, he stood up rigidly. “Get out of my house.” He said with much more conviction than he usually does. His words had no effect on her.
“Awww~ Is that how your mom raised you to treat a lady?” She asked with a grin that was so wide it almost looked painful to hold. He would draw a deep breath, but before he could yell, he felt something akin to fishing line suddenly sinch tightly around his neck. He tried in vain to scratch the choking sensation away before he saw the red string that was tied snugly around her index finger.
“Your mother failed you if you think it’s alright to shout at a lady too.” She said before hopping off his desk, not letting him get a breath. She slowly twirled the string around her finger, tightening it, winding herself closer to him.
He would crumple to the floor, shuddering, gasping, unable to breathe.
Once darkness was dancing around his vision, he felt the string slacken, letting him draw in a breath he desperately needed. He could do little but breathe as she sat him up against a bookcase and got in his lap. Her finger kept winding the string, guiding her hand to his neck, she caressed the vein on his neck, gently, reverently. Putting just enough pressure just so she could feel his pulse racing under her fingertip.
She had to bite back a moan, and they hadn’t even done anything yet.
“You say you love me, and yet you choke me.”
“Ever considered that I’m into that~?”
She giggled as all the color drained from his face. She was lying of course, she didn’t want to choke him, however she had no issue with doing it. She rest her hands on his hips, digging her fingers into the muscle hidden under the clothes. He wasn’t chiseled out of stone, but she could appreciate his thinner build. She liked knowing that even without magic, she could still have her way with him.
She loved how weak he was.
She felt his breath hitch as she circled his waist with one hand before letting her hand slip down the back, squeezing his rather lackluster ass cheek. Her other hand continued up, brushing over his ribs, pausing to feel his chest rapidly rising and falling, her thumb brushed over his nipple as it continued its path upwards.
Once she got to his face, she was blessed with the sight of it painted a bright red, color filling the tip of his nose and his whole ears a bright, delightful crimson. Her thumb brushed along his lower lip, which was quivering before she cupped his cheek, feeling as he leaned away from her hand.
She took her hand out from his pants and would take both of his hands into hers. Before wrenching them behind his head, in an instant string bound his wrists together, and to make sure he couldn’t move them a snugly tied collar would surround his neck and knot with the string on his wrists.
“Much better~” She said with a soft sigh, leaning forward and pushing her chest against his, feeling his heart stutter, his quickened breath, the heat radiating out from his body. “Why..? Why me…” He whimpered out, as a single tear spilled out and down his cheek. She would cup his face with both hands, leaning in until the tips of their noses touched. “Because you are perfect, dear~” She purred, looking into his eyes, seeking the fear, the uncertainty.
It was delicious.
Meanwhile, he looked into those eyes, seeing into the depths of them. They were an abyss, a place writhing with depravity, and that abyss wanted to swallow him whole.
She would grab the front of his shirt and yank him into a kiss, it was not gentle.
There was mashing of teeth, biting of lips, and dances of tongue. She shuddered violently, feeling his tongue stuck under hers, powerless, pathetic.
Perfect.
She pulled back, sucking in the line of saliva still connected them when she gripped the top of his shoulders and began grinding down on him. He whimpered, tears flowing freely as he weakly tried to buck her off, but all he did was elect a moan out of her as he struggled beneath her.
“So good~ Keep moving~!” He hated how despite how much he didn’t want this, he could feel himself getting hard, his body reacting to the actions of hers. He wasn’t even sure if he should fight. She seemed to be getting off on it. But then again, he doubted she would even stop despite his lack of struggle.
She would slow down, still pleasuring herself on him but much slower, she cupped his face, squeezing his cheeks as she grinned down at him. “Say you want me~” She whispered.
He shook his head.
She licked away one of his tear trails.
“Say it~”
“No…”
She ripped his vest and shirt open, a few buttons clattering on the floor as she exposed his delicate chest to her gaze. He wished he could shrink in on himself. She groped and caressed all the skin and muscles she could, her finger pinching and twisting his nipples until they were on the verge of hurting.
“Say it~”
“No..!”
She trailed her claws down his chest, making him squirm as the sensation was far more pleasant than it had any right to be. His pants were not tight, they were painful, every twitch felt like torture. And there was a solution sitting on his lap, but he didn’t want that way.
She got off of him, forcefully spreading his legs as she began to mouth at his tent, he jerked his head up not to look but a line tied around her pinkie would yank his head down and force him to watch as she teased him through his pants.
He couldn’t help but softly moan as her tongue worked over the fabric covering his painful hard on, teasing him with bits of pleasure. He was ashamed to admit she got him scarily close to climaxing in his pants. But thankfully she would stop, kissing the top of his tent before she repeated herself.
“Say it~”
Before he could even articulate the word ‘no’ she would slink up to him, pressing herself against his front, her face a breath away from his as her left hand lazily drew circles around the aching tent in his pants. “Beloved~” She started with a sensual purr, “I’m getting impatient…” She whispered, nuzzling into the crook of his neck as she began to grind down on him.
He tried to say something, but all that came out was another whimper.
“Why do you do this to yourself, love~? I can do so so much for you~ And it extends far beyond just taking care of this little problem~” She moaned as she angled her hips to feel the tip of his tent rubbing against her clothed sex.
He drew a deep, shuddering breath as he collected his scattered thoughts. “You’re crazy…” He managed to choke out. She would gently catch his chin between his fingers, “Crazy for you~” And had it been anyone else, that would’ve been charming.
Even she had to suppress the urge to curl into a ball after that one.
“Love, what do I need to do? All I’m asking for is a word… Just one word, love~ One word and I can make your life so so much easier~ No more family obligations~ No more bricks through your windows~ No more waking up all cold and lonely~ All you have to do, is say yes~” She purred, cupping his face as she leaned in to kiss him.
She heard steps approaching the door.
She bristled, growling, this close, she was this close to having him. She would unzip his pants with a deft flick of her wrist, letting his manhood spring free. And despite her wanting to stay and look at it more she had places to be. She would snap, the strings holding his arms behind his head disappearing as she got off of him.
“You know how to call me, I’ll see you around, babe~!” She called to him before opening one of his windows and jumping out into the night just as the door opened. Leaving him to try and explain himself to the poor maid who was coming to check up on him.
…
Her boots clicked nicely as she walked.
The night was thick and still, no one out and about, everything but street lamps off. It was quiet and eerie. The type of stillness and silence that stand out.
She had one more person she had to visit before she could go home and sleep. She was following the red line tied to her finger, puffing on a cigarette as she walked, not really paying attention to where she was going.
The string led her to a real sad excuse of a house squished in between 2 others. One of the windows was busted, with cardboard taped to the inside to stop things from getting in. The overhang above the door had a visible slouch, the bricks were covered in a layer of grime. It was far from a pretty house.
She walked up the steps, not daring to touch the railing, she would probably get tetanus just from looking at it. She knocked on the screen door and took a step back as she pulled out her booklet and began flipping though its pages. Laura Riter, 600$.
As she confirmed the price the door would open revealing a girl about a head shorter than Anwir with unkempt brown hair, with a set of antennae and extra amber eyes buried in their hair.
The Mantis looked at the Demon with contempt.
The Demon simply lifted her hand, waiting for her payment to be dropped into it. The Mantis would growl and turn to walk deeper into the house, leaving the door open. The Demon would take that as an invitation to walk inside.
Inside was nothing special. A drab kitchen to the left filled with only the bare essentials, a living room to the right which was only a couch, coffee table, and small TV. Infront of the door was a small wall with some photos hung up in frames.
‘Ain’t that just swell…’ The Voice muttered in her head.
She stepped closer to have a gander at the snapshots in time. Most were family photos, human dad, Mantis mother, and a large green wave of children at varying ages sitting at the parents’ feet. She couldn’t even tell which one Laura was.
There were many like this. One at the beach, one in front of a statue in a park, one of them all huddled up next to a fireplace.
However, that was end of the family photos.
One face kept popping up, over and over. He was a man, maybe late twenties, a thick well kept mustache on his lip, dimples when he smiled, and sideburns. This man and The Mantis were at one point together, that much she could guess. And the photos of them kissing in front of scenic places simply cemented this.
However, the more photos she looked at the more she had a sinking feeling grow in her gut. The Demon felt like she knew this man, some how, some way, she had seen his face at one point. She kept looking at the pictures. All cute couple photos, until she saw the uniform.
He was part of the Order. A Hydro Mage, to be exact. He wore the garbs, he had the armband, it was unmistakable. The last photo, seated on the edge of the wall with letter, and a patch taped to its frame. The last photo was a photo of this man with his entire company, him being one of the ones holding up the battalions flag.
The 13th Lescatie Mage Divison.
A memory forced itself to the front of her mind.
Ash pellets filled the air. Smoke plumed and billowed, painting the grey sky with streaks of deep black. The smoke was lit up by red, as fire raged just under the climbing smoke.
She stood on the edge of a hotel, her wings spread and primed, ready to leap. Het lapped at her skin, reddening its blue hue to a lighter color. Her sisters flew overhead, raining fire down from the sky. Hitting the ground and exploding out in splatters of molten metal and bursting rock.
The sound was unreal. The fires raged, a constant baritone, a deep bass line beneath the chaos around them. Shrill, piercing screams rose like high notes, some brief and sharp, others long and wavering. The low, sonorous groan of collapsing wood joined in, punctuating the high notes before dissolving into clouds of ember with resounding crashes and crackles. High above it all, sultry giggles and wild cackles echoed through the smoke, a manic refrain. On the ground, the hiss of water meeting flame droned steadily, filling the gaps between the other instruments and binding the whole terrible symphony together.
It was in that serenity of chaos she remembered seeing his face.
He was leading a group of men to fight the fires, she didn’t think much of him at the time. She would leap from her perch, her palms tingling as magic built up in her hands. And just as she reached her apex, as her shadow fell upon them, he looked up at her. He looked up at her as she spewed hoses of fire down on them.
There was laughing in her ears. Ringing over and over again inside her head in an endless repeat. By the time she pulled herself out of the past, her fingernails had embedded themselves in her palms, her eye was twitching, writhing. Her palms burnt, her nails having tore open the flesh and let her blood flow. She unclenched her fists, wincing as her nails slid out of her now bloody hand.
She drew a deep breath and let it go.
She heard a sound to her left. The Mantis was standing there in the kitchen, looking at the Demon with an unreadable expression. The Demon went to say something, but stopped herself. Instead she wiped her blood on her pants and held out her hand, wanting her payment.
The Mantis would drop a stack of bills into the Demons waiting hand. A quick count and the Demon was surprised to see that the Mantis had payed in full. She was out of the pit. The Demon blinked a few times, caught off guard but not bothered by it.
She would pull out her booklet and completely cross their name out. Immediately, there was a feeling of severance, a change in the power dynamics between them.
The Demon turned to leave, when she felt pain unlike any other she had ever felt before that. A burning spike of unadulterated suffering embedded itself in her lower back, her entire body seized up, coiled like a spring as the nerves in her screamed out. On reaction, she threw herself around, lashing her arm out in a savage, inelegant arc.
The back of her hand clocked the Mantis across their temple, they staggered back still clutching the bloody kitchen knife in their hands with a white knuckled grip. The Demon didn’t get much time to try and get over the pain making them hunch over before the Mantis would bolt forward with a vicious stab at her.
She just barely sidestepped out of the way, shoving them back as they went to pull out their flashlight. But as they grabbed the cold steel of their light, a dreadful, sinking feel washed down their back.
This wasn’t a Husk.
This was just a woman who wanted her dead. She had no weapons, no strings, no contract between her and them. She pulled out the flashlight anyway, it was solid, it was something. The Mantis was already walking her down, their knife at the ready.
She threw a sloppy swing that the Mantis dodged and punished by slicing her side, she hissed as pain bloomed across most of her ribs in a searing line. But with the Mantis so close she punched the smaller woman in the gut, making them double over as they almost heaved. Wasting no time she swung her flashlight up at them with all the strength she could.
She heard their teeth click together as her flashlight knocked their head up at a sharp angle, she finished them off with a strong front kick, sending them tumbling to the floor. But at the last moment they righted themselves, their arm blades snapped into position before digging into the floor before they threw themselves forward.
They latched onto her front, stabbing their knife into her collar, she had to stifle a scream as the blade was gouged into them. Their entire body jerked harshly to one side as they curled in on themselves, dropping their flashlight.
The Mantis would would crawl onto their back and wrap their arm around her neck, choking her out with strength she did not expect them to have. She swung herself around and rammed them into the picture wall, the sound of glass cracking and multiple photos falling to the floor with a clatter ringing about the house.
No matter how much she smacked, rammed and, ground the Mantis into the wall, they did not let go.
As the Demon’s vision was starting to swim, her body aching to just fall over, she pulled out a trick she hadn’t used for a very, very long time. She reached up and grabbed the Mantis, no caring what they had a hold of, and then she concentrated, feeling magic build up in her palms. The Mantis screamed as she began burning them, the sizzling of flesh not foreign to her ears.
The Mantis couldn’t take the pain, and so they let go to try and pry her arms off. The moment they let go the Demon yanked them off and slammed them with all the strength they had left. The walls rattled, kicking up dust from the shear force of impact from the Mantis hitting the floor.
The Demon stood up only to immediately stumble back, and fall down, leaning against the photo wall. She was tired, so so tired. She could feel herself slipping, nodding off despite the waves of deep, aching pains that washed over her entire body. She reached up to gently touch her collar where the knife was still embedded, and hissed as even the tiny amount of pressure brought on a sharp, stabbing pain.
Was this it?
Was she really going to bleed out in the house of some random person who owed her money? No, she refused. She’d rather die at home.
With that simple line of thought fueling her she closed her eyes and began to picture a certain place. A dusty, worn out couch, a TV on silent, that same old dim lamp burning low in the corner, her beloved coffee table… She felt her body grow weightless as she was moved, for a blissful moment, nothing hurt.
Before she was dropped onto dank, grimy cement.
She opened her eyes to see the spot she had teleported to this morning, that same alleyway where she had started her day. She let out a defeated breath as she leaned her head back against the bricks.
She was exhausted. She couldn’t make it home, not like this she wasn’t. She drew a deep breath and pressed her hand to the wound on her back, and delicately set her hand over the knife still stuck in her chest. Whimpering as she fought back tears from how much it hurt just to touch the wounds. Through gritted teeth, she began to chant the words of a healing spell. She was slurring her words, misremembering how to time her speech, and she wasn’t even sure she was saying the right thing.
But she felt her hands tingling, the wounds tingling as, something happened. She kept chanting, for many minutes she did nothing but sit there and whisper to herself in the dark. By the time she stopped, she didn’t feel good, but better than how she felt fresh after her stabbing. She couldn’t even tell if she was still bleeding, her clothes were so soaked already it was impossible to tell.
She didn’t get time to see how sensitive her wounds were now, because out of the corner of her eye she spied movement.
She turned her head fully, peering down into the impossibly dark before her. She saw a shadow bend, she immediately knew what was there. And she didn’t even have her flashlight to get rid of it.
She closed her eyes and began to focus. Home, her couch, her TV, her table. She heard casual footsteps approaching her, distant, slow. “Um, hey! Are you like, okay?” A passable voice asked her, the vowels sounded off but she didn’t even bother with focusing on that detail.
Home. That was where her thoughts were. The footsteps picked up their speed to a jog, “Hey! Are you okay?” It repeated, faking a tone of concern that sounded more happy than anything else.
Home. She needed to get there. She needed that more than anything. She could not deal with this Husk how she was.
Maybe once it was close enough, it got a good read on her, because it dropped the act. “Where do you think you’re going?” it howled, it’s voice cracking and screeching. It speed went from a jog to a feral sprint. There wasn’t just the click of shoes, but the slapping of hands on the pavement as it twisted into Lilith knows what shape to try and clear the distance just that much faster.
Just as she began to curl in on herself, just as she was sure she was going to get yanked into the darkness, she felt her skin tingle. Her body losing it’s physical form as she was moved between the spaces of this world.
She dropped on her floor in a heap.
Her heart was pounding so hard that it hurt, her ears were filled with a constant high ringing taht gave her headache, her entire body shaking and trembling from the panic she had worked herself into.
She was home. She made it.
She allowed herself a small laugh of victory before picking herself up. She felt like shit. God-awful, didn’t not scrath the surface of how bad she felt. She stripped down to nothing, throwing her clothes into a pile next to the tv as she lied herself down on the couch gently, so as not to disturb her wounds and make them bleed again. She didn’t want to ruin her couch.
As she lied down, she was out like a light, not even the eyes of The Voice looking at her could keep her from falling into a deep, deep sleep.