Chapter 8: Obey

Everything changed from that point on. It was Countessa’s fault, after all. That calm gold in his eyes burned a fierce blood red—all for her to endure, and fear. "Speak one more word, just one, any word, a syllable, a verb, a f*cking noun, and I'll snap your sh*t and find myself more suitable p*ssy with lesser brains to appease me."

Countessa took an easy breath. Humans lacked the perfect ears to catch that air shooting up her nose, but Noctavion indeed could. And she knew that he could. Assuming he found some form of victorious solace in her falling back on her objection was a joy she failed to secure from him. That said, and unfavorably for her, she let him have that bit of comfort, for now.

Then he called for her. "Come here."

Without giving him a chance to ask twice, she sauntered forth. Precise in his reach, she strolled into the clever scoop of his arms. Her breast pressed against him. The flow was too excellent. One arm slid on her perfect-shaped waist to secure her lower back, where the delicate arch met the perk of her fine a**.

The red in Noctavion's eyes softened to that elegant glow of gold again, no doubt planting a seed of relief inside her. It allured Countessa's gaze, seized by the charm that reigned supreme within his pupils' dark slits centered upon his impressive stare.

"Why do you pressure me so much?" He lifted a bloody finger to her lips, granting them a new shade. "Have I ever wronged you?"

Countessa shivered as she answered him. "No."

Her lips met his. Time itself had no right to spoil their moment. Defying mortality, they have lived many eras. Having front row seats at the rise and fall of civilizations, kingdoms, governments, and now their own center of power. Their rule in the darker forms of life erected to such heights could stand the ultimate test of time with what they have observed in the various stupidity of human nature.

As long as Noctavion held the reins.

Just as he held the Lady Countessa, herself, by the most dangerously vulnerable spot between her thighs.

Countessa gasped. Noctavion released her lips. Shuddering in his grip, she could not help but surrender her dark soul. Noctavion gave her a thoughtful moment of pause, a break to gather her thoughts and reflect on her own errors while teasing the throbbing depths of her wet p*ssy coming to life in his blood-covered hand and to further soften in his hold.

Before Countessa knew it, she gasped, trembling as if lightning had struck her. Her anger and embarrassment melted into a puddle of sweet release by the firm thrust of his deceptively endless fingers.

Reminding her of her unbreakable obedience, Noctavion caught her by the back of her neck. At the nape. Where her attractive skull of naturally thick black hair met the pride of her elegantly sculpted throat.

A perfect fit for his strong fingers to lock onto. "Then cease your plights and obey me as we rise to destiny." His voice was the last tune Countessa heard as all thoughts fled into oblivion. Gone by the sharpened, passionate sting of Noctavion's gold-plated bite.

A moment that must be postponed—for a familiar curvy figure neared. Fatalis was her name. Her only name. The vampiress in the white cat-suit, who looked more bat than a cat, announced herself by the clicking and clacking her sharp heels hitting hard, polished floors. "Lord," she called Noctavion. "The primal requires your presence immediately."