Shaba'amlaillee by Vyktoria Howard

Heat Rating: Volcanic

Content Warnings: GLBT gay (m/m), m/f, gender bending, dubious consent, BDSM

Sometimes it takes a demon to defeat a demon.

He looked at her, slender and doe-eyed, and realized with a shock that her form was pleasing to him. Kaevaer felt the faintest flare of heat in his groin. "No. Thank you, but no."

She bowed her head, "I do not please you, master?" Her full-lipped mouth trembled, "I want to pleasure you, master. I want you to," she raised her gaze to look up at his still veiled eyes. "I want to feel you in me," she drew closer, lifting her arms with the intention of wrapping them around him.

He took a step back, held out a hand to ward her off, he knew what to say, but found himself holding the phrase one of their virgin warriors would use caged on his tongue. The small flare of heat was growing into a spark of need. How long had it been since he'd last lain in the throes of passion? One month, two... longer? He couldn't remember.

Her slender arms entwined around his neck and she pressed her softness to him. "I have only heard one other who spoke with the same strangeness tingeing his words as color your speech, master." She delicately drew the sandveil away from his eyes, smiled at what she found, and pulled the rest of the veils aside to see his entire face. Like an untried youth, he stood there, unresisting, the embers of desire growing warmer between his thighs.

Then her lips, warm and moist pressed against his with a firmness that belied her slave demeanor.

Kaevaer pushed her back gently and smiled, showing his inhumanly sharp teeth. The girl recoiled slightly, seeing the wicked-looking fangs so prominently on display. The one she remembered from a few months ago hadn't had teeth of that sharpness, that feral an appearanceóthough that young man's teeth had been sharper than a human's, and he'd bitten her throat and tasted her blood, true enough. The demon-blood must be stronger in this one, she thought, and watched as his smile grew more sardonic, as if he'd heard her thoughts. Perhaps he had.

"Well, you've no unreasoning fear of me."

"No, master." She stepped closer, "I desire you. I know what you are, I knew the moment I heard your voice." She tugged at a strand of silken cord and her simple garment slithered to the floor. Her body gleamed like an ivory flame in the flickering light of the lamp.

Kaevaer, the inferno of his passion suddenly raging though his veins, stood trembling. His nightberry-red eyes became a seething maelstrom of red-violet radiance. A soft moan escaped from his lips and he embraced the human girl, holding her tight, his face pressed into her hair as he breathed in the scent of her.

"I am called Mellilia," she whispered.