9. Catandria

9

CATANDRIA

“ B ut why?” I manage to ask between gasps.

“Why what?” he asks, looking confused.

“Why let them capture you when you could’ve escaped anytime? Those chains obviously didn’t keep you.”

He grins, a sharp, dangerous edge to it. “Boredom, little one. Needed some thrill. Thought I'd humor the dark elves. Proved just how weak they are.”

I can’t help but stare at him, wondering about this powerful demon who finds amusement in captivity. “You call that fun?”

“Fun? No. Amusing? Yes.” His fingers trail down my spine, leaving a scorching path. “Their attempts to torture me were pathetic. They can’t comprehend real power.”

“Tell me about your world,” I ask, my fingers tracing the intricate lines of his bone armor. “The demon world.”

“Glacies is a realm of chaos and power,” he begins, his voice taking on a darker, almost nostalgic tone. “Where strength determines everything. I rule a territory there, and it's a wasteland. Demons there are ruthless, constantly battling for dominance.”

I listen, fascinated. “What’s it like being a demon?”

“Power. Endless power,” he says, his eyes locking onto mine. “Strength, speed, and abilities beyond your imagination. You’d never fear the dark elves again.”

“That’s all I want,” I whisper, my hand resting on his chest. “To eliminate them. To be free.”

He laughs softly, a sound that’s more menacing than comforting. “Freedom comes with a price, little one. But you’ve got potential. I can see it in your eyes.”

His fingers lift my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “You’ll become a demon, but you’ll have to prove yourself worthy. Show me you’re not just another broken human.”

“I’ll do anything,” I reply, the desperation in my voice clear even to my own ears. “Just give me the power.”

His eyes narrow, assessing me. “You’ll need to embrace the darkness a little longer. Relish in the chaos. Only then can you truly be free.”

“I’m ready,” I say, though a part of me quakes at the thought. I clear my throat, gathering my courage. "Tell me about the ritual," I say, my voice steadier than I feel.

Javan's eyes gleam with a dark amusement. "Eager, aren't we? Very well, little one. The ritual requires the blood of three dark elves. The more powerful, the better. You'll need to drain them dry under the full moon."

My stomach churns at the thought. "Drain them? As in... drink their blood?"

He nods, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "While I chant and they die slowly, you'll drink their blood. You'll give yourself fully to me during this process. It will ensure you become the perfect demon for me."

I take a step back, bile rising in my throat. "Drink their blood? That’s... monstrous."

"Monstrous?" He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. "They did worse to you, didn’t they? You endured their cruelty. You can do this."

I think of the beatings, the nights spent in agony, the degradation. My fingers clench into fists. "You're right. They deserve worse."

He grazes his hand along my cheek, his presence overwhelming. "You want power, don't you? Freedom?"

"Yes," I whisper, the word a desperate plea.

"Then you’ll do what’s necessary." He lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Or would you rather remain their toy?"

"No," I say, more forcefully this time. "I’ll do it."

"Good," he whispers, trailing kisses down my chin. "You know… there's something I want to do first."

"What's that?"

“You've been teasing me, little one,” Javan murmurs, his lips brushing against mine. “Not gonna be patient anymore.”

Before I can respond, he lifts me out of the river effortlessly, my body pressing against his. His strength, even weakened, is undeniable. I wrap my arms around his neck, feeling the muscular texture of his chest against my skin. His eyes lock onto mine, dark and intense, as if he’s reading every thought I’ve ever had.

“Javan, wait—” His mouth cuts off my protest, a demanding kiss that steals my breath and leaves me dizzy. His tongue explores, tasting me, claiming me. I kiss back with equal fervor, the world around us fading into insignificance.

He carries me through the dense underbrush, his steps sure and purposeful. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and the distant murmur of the river. His grip tightens, his fingers digging into my hips, as if he’s afraid I might disappear.

“I’ve wanted this again since the second I felt you the first time,” he growls against my lips, his voice rough with desire.

I shiver, excitement coursing through me. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough.” He stops, the cool night air prickling my skin. We’re at the riverbank, the water glistening under the moonlight. He sets me down gently, his hands lingering on my waist.

“Javan,” I whisper, my heart pounding. “What are you doing?”

“Showing you what you’ve been asking for,” he replies, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. “You want power, freedom. This is part of it.”

He pulls me closer, his hands roaming my body with a possessive hunger. His touch is electrifying, every caress igniting a fire within me. I tilt my head back, exposing my neck to him, and he takes the invitation, his lips trailing down my throat.

“You’re mine,” he says, his breath hot against my skin. “And I don’t share.”

His words send a thrill through me, the intensity of his gaze making my knees weak. “Then take me,” I challenge, my voice barely a whisper.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. His mouth claims mine again, his hands exploring every inch of me. I respond eagerly, my own hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders. His touch is both rough and tender, a contradiction that leaves me breathless.