A fairy, the embodiment of light itself, is ensnared by the clutches of HELL and dragged down by a ravaging and relentless HELLHOUND in this dark erotic shifter. As the shadows unfurl and long-buried truths come to light, her life spirals into a cap...
Stumbling down the hallway, I look into the room where the creepy little creatures had been; it's empty.
Continuing toward the stairs, I move down to the next floor, creeping from room to room. If I'm going to escape from this place, I'll need more than just this sweater. I need shoes and, preferably, pants, but if it came down to it, I would leave without them.
This house looks like a bomb went off in multiple rooms. There is trash, broken windows, leaves, and areas that look like they've been set on fire.
Moving from the third floor, down to the second, I hear a quiet pattering sound behind me. My skin pricks as I slowly turn around.
It's another one of those creatures.
We stand, staring at each other nervously for several seconds before I start to back away. It doesn't make any attempt to follow me or stop me, so I just leave.
The house is a maze. I thought our castle was large, but this is at least three times that. I'm sure I've passed this shattered window multiple times. I'm walking in circles.
After some time to consider, I've decided that the roof was a terrible idea. Without my wings, it's not possible. I need to get to the ground floor. If I could only find the stairs again, any stairs.
Down a long, dusty hallway, I come to an ornately carved black door. Nervously, I reach out to try the handle, and it opens. It looks like the kind of door that would be locked.
Inside, I'm instantly warmed by the blazing fire in the hearth.
It's an office. The only clean room in the house so far. Rows of bookshelves line one wall, and a stately black desk sits in the middle of the room.
Holding my bruised hands up, the warmth helps with the dull ache.
Maps and papers with writing I don't understand are spread across the desk in haphazard stacks. Pulling one of the pages from the pile, I'm met with a crude drawing of some kind of torture device. It looks like a fairy with its wings forced open in a kneeling position.
It sends a shiver down my spine. Is that why I'm here? Is he going to use me to test his torture devices?
Walking toward the window, I peek out cautiously. It's a three-story drop, but there isn't anything below. I might be able to jump down.
Pushing with all of my might, the window won't budge. It's like it's been sealed shut.
Searching the room, I find a heavy, metal candelabra on the desk. That should work! Dropping the candles on the floor, I take it and swing, shattering the glass with one blow.
Using the base, I break all the glass from the edges so that I can climb out without cutting myself.
Dropping the candelabra with a loud thud, I admire my work.
"Why are you breaking my windows?" His voice from behind me makes me shriek. Spinning around, I find him leaning against the door frame, boredom on his expression.
"I figured I'd make this room match the rest of the place. It's lovely, by the way."
This seems to anger him.
"I built this home myself," he growls and takes a menacing step toward me. "I laid each brick. While I was away, it seems it became a tourist attraction, a place where heathens came to cause destruction without consequences."
Suddenly I feel guilty.
"I-I didn't-"
"There is a lot you don't know, little bird."
"Like what?"
"Like who you are, what you are," he steps forward, and his smokey smell engulfs me. "Who your father is."
"I know those things," I look into his eyes confidently.
"You know a version of those things." He takes another step forward, and my back hits the wall behind me. "You belong here, with me."
"You can say that as many times as you like, but that doesn't make it true," I hold my head up defiantly.
His lips pull up into an amused smile. Humming, he closes the space between us, gripping my chin in his hand. "You're a brat."
"Is my family still alive?" I slide away from him, sidestepping and walking across the room.
"Yes."
I start to heave a sigh of relief until he continues.
"Your parents, your father, in particular, were left alive on purpose. He needs to see it with his own eyes."
"See what?"
"You with me." He smiles again, and a nervous pit forms in my stomach. "He can sit on his throne, high and mighty, knowing that you're here with me."
"Your prisoner."
"No," he nods. "Eventually, I will own you in every way possible. You will sleep in my bed, I will ravage your body whenever I please, and what's more, you will like it. You will beg me for it. There won't be anything you crave more than being wrapped around my cock. I'm going to pump you full of my children." His neck rolls, and he groans. "He was left alive because I want him to look into your eyes and know that he lost."
"You're a monster!"
"No, I'm a hellhound, there is a difference."
"I'll never stop trying to escape."
"We'll see about that," he reaches out, gripping my throat in his hand. When his fingers touch the bite on my neck, something sparks inside of me. A quick jolt that starts in my spine and rolls outward. It's like I can feel my body melting, sagging into him. "Do you feel that, little bird?" The deep rumble in his voice makes me shiver. His thumb comes up, rubbing across my lower lip.
"I-"
"You will choose me in the end."
"No." I defiantly shake my head, ignoring how my core tightens and flutters.
"When you are ready to hear the truth, I will explain everything."
"Just tell me the truth now."
"Your father is the villain in this story-"
"Bullshit!" I push against his chest.
He chuckles, "Not ready."
"I am, but I don't want your lies!"
"I will never lie to you. I will hide nothing from you." He states it simply and with such conviction that I want to believe him.
My neck aches, and my head is starting to pound. I can't be here. Stepping toward the door, I feel dizzy and cold.
"Stop fighting it, you're going against the will of your body," his voice starts to fade as black moves into my vision, spreading like spilled ink until I'm swept under.
I'm conscious enough to know that he's got me in his arms, carrying me against his chest with my face in his neck. His smell makes me feel light, the same weightlessness I get when I'm flying. I know it's him, but I lean in anyway, taking a slow, deep breath against his skin. It's like I'm soaring.
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