The Dread of Damned

The carriage emerged from the dense forest, halting before a towering concrete building. Stark and desolate, it loomed at the forest's edge, its barren facade bathed in the fading light.

Vicaris swung open the carriage door as George approached. "This is the exchange point," he said. "We'll change clothes and vehicles here."

I nodded, glancing back into the carriage. She sat huddled in the corner, her black clothes stark against her tense frame. "Come here," I said. She shot a venomous glare at George and the others before stepping out, her movements defiant.

George led us into the building, which resembled an abandoned hotel. A young man waited inside, greeting us with a curt nod. I acknowledged him, and he guided us to a room on an upper floor.

I entered, her hesitant steps trailing behind. The door slammed shut with a heavy thud. As I turned, she crumpled to the floor, sprawling on her back, her black shirt stretched tight over her heaving breasts, nipples straining against the thin fabric.

"Tired already?" I sneered, straddling the edge of the bed, my gaze raking over her prone form. "I've barely had my fill of the blood."

I had nearly drank her dry earlier in my excitement making her faint again and she could barely stand sue to weakness afterwards.

She scoffed, her defiance a spark in the dim room.

I lifted my boot and slammed it onto her stomach. She gasped, her body jerking under the force, her yellow eyes blazing with hatred. "Thought I was some soft-hearted fool?" I leaned forward, grinding my heel into her flesh, feeling the taut muscles quiver beneath.

She wasn't like the nocturnals—her body wouldn't heal as fast. I'd have to savor breaking her slowly.

"Answer me next time," I growled, hooking my boot's toe into the collar of her shirt. With a savage yank, I ripped it apart, the fabric shredding like paper. Her bare torso gleamed with sweat, her brown breasts bouncing free, heavy and firm despite her lean frame.

She tried to cover herself, but my other boot moved like a viper, pinning her wrists above her head, stretching her body taut.

I took my other foot out of the shoes, feeling her bare stomach beneath my it.

"Shy now?" I mocked, my eyes devouring her exposed flesh, her nipples hardening with the big dark areola stark against the golden brown skin in the cool morning air as her breasts jutted upward from the strain of her pinned arms.

Her teeth sharpened into jagged blades, a feral snarl, but I only grinned, my fangs lengthening in response.

She flinched, no doubt reliving the carriage, where I'd sunk my teeth into her throat and drank until her pulse faltered.

"Think a day in clothes makes you civilized?" I pressed my boot harder against her stomach, feeling the coiled strength of her muscles, honed by years in the wild. Her breasts, impossibly pert for their size, defied gravity, trembling with each ragged breath.

I traced my boot upward, grazing the swell of her chest, then pressed it against her throat, her pulse thudding against the sole.

Her armpits, lush with dark, matted hair, caught my eye—a primal contrast to her sculpted body.

I dragged my boot down, hooking my toes into the thick tangle and yanking hard. She convulsed, a choked cry escaping her lips, but my other boot kept her wrists pinned, her body helpless. "Civilized women don't grow jungles like this," I taunted, twisting my toes to pull again, relishing her pained shudder.

"You'll obey me," I said, grinding my heel into her armpit, the sweat-slick hair crushing under the pressure. "Or you'll be drained dry, bottled like the rest." My boot slid to her throat again, toes curling against her windpipe.

"You can run, but the bastard outside—the one eyeing you like meat—he's not like me. He won't fuck you into submission. He'll carve you open and bleed you out."

Her yellow eyes glowed with rage, but fear flickered beneath. I shifted my boot , pressing it against the side of her face, grinding it against the polished floor. Her hips bucked involuntarily, a glare colouring her intense yellow eyes.

Her eyes glowed brighter, defiance warring with fear. "I'll drink your blood," I continued, my voice a low purr. "I'll play with you. I'll break you." I reached down, patting her dark hair as if she were a pet. "I'll make you my obedient little dog. But I'm also the only one who'll keep you alive now that your existence is known."

Her glare held, but the truth was a shackle she couldn't break.

My bare foot lifted from her stomach, leaving behind a fading red imprint on her sweat-slicked skin. Her rapid breaths made her heavy breasts rise and fall hypnotically, those dark nipples still stiff. A few strands of her armpit hair clung to my toes—proof of the abuse.

I flexed my foot slowly, admiring the way her muscles twitched beneath golden skin.

But my grip in her hair never loosened.

Those thick, silken strands were woven tightly through my fingers, strong as steel cables. No matter how hard I pulled, her resistance was considerable and it meant she wouldn't lose a single hair—but that didn't mean it wouldn't hurt.

"Now," I murmured, tilting her head back to expose the elegant line of her throat, "let's get my disobedient little doggy clean."

My grip tightened—not enough to tear, but enough to make her snarl. Her spine arched beautifully, forcing those perfect breasts higher, the dark peaks begging for my touch. The tattered remains of her clothing slipped lower, barely clinging to her hips.

Then I dragged her.

Her claws scraped against the polished floor as I pulled her toward the bath, her powerful body resisting just enough to make it interesting. The muscles in her shoulders and back flexed, but she couldn't break free.