Chapter 81: All Seraphielle Wants Is A Taste Of Elyn
Chapter 81: All Seraphielle Wants Is A Taste Of Elyn
Elyn’s POV
I shuddered.
It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t graceful. It was the kind of full-body shiver that started at the base of my spine and crawled up my neck, like something cold and unwelcome had just breathed down it.
"I—" I cleared my throat, hating that my voice came out thinner than usual. "What do you mean by that?"
Seraphielle’s smile widened, slow and deliberate, like she had all the time in the world and intended to use it to make me uncomfortable. And she was succeeding.
"You know what I mean," she said softly.
Her voice wrapped around the words like silk soaked in honey. Sticky, sweet, and dangerous all at once.
I didn’t respond immediately, mostly because my brain was still scrambling to catch up with the sheer audacity of her presence. She hadn’t been invited. She hadn’t announced herself. She had simply... appeared. And now she was standing in the office like she owned the space, like I was the one intruding.
"How did you even get in here?" I asked her.
"I couldn’t stay away."
"I didn’t ask why you’re here," I told her. "I’m asking you how you got in."
"You called out to me," she replied.
I gave her a bland look. I hadn’t called her. I hadn’t even thought of her, so there was no way that was true—and I knew she knew it too. She was just messing with me.
"I didn’t call to you," I said to her.
She smiled widely. "No, you did not—but your body called to me."
"How..." I sighed deeply.
I did not understand what she was saying. It didn’t make sense. At least, not to me.
"Ever since I saw you," Seraphielle continued, her gaze never leaving my face, "I’ve been enamored."
I stiffened in shock. I almost threw up in my mouth. Enamored? Who even used enamored these days?
Her eyes traced me slowly, unashamed, lingering in ways that made my skin prickle. I suddenly became very aware of how I was standing, how I was breathing, how exposed I felt under that gaze—and how uncomfortable it was.
"You’re beautiful, my lady," she went on, tilting her head slightly. "Truly beautiful. Not fragile-pretty like humans tend to be. No... you look like a demon. Your beauty suits the demon realm."
If she thought that was praise, then she had another thing coming. Who in their right mind would want to be told they were as beautiful as a demon?
"You fit the role of a queen," she said. "Perfectly. And I’m sure that’s why the king immediately took to you."
I opened my mouth to speak, but she didn’t stop.
"All your proportions," Seraphielle continued, gesturing vaguely toward me as if I were a piece of art on display, "they align perfectly. Your hips are the right proportion, your breasts are enough for one to hold onto, and your butt... it’s not huge, but it’s perfect. And your figure..."
She moaned.
Perhaps the sound would have been pleasant to others, but to me it wasn’t. It sounded like iron scraping against iron.
Morthen, however—who literally looked like he had hearts in his eyes—sighed softly, almost melting. Even Vaelory drooled at one point.
"Normally," Seraphielle added lightly, "I would have requested that you work in my pleasure house."
I stared at her.
The words didn’t immediately register. My brain rejected them on instinct, like a bad translation.
"I—what?"
"But that," she waved a hand dismissively, "would be belittling you. You’re far above that. So—" she leaned forward slightly, her smile sharpening, "all I want is a taste."
She licked her purple-tinged lips slowly.
I sputtered at her words, because surely I had heard her wrong.
"A—a taste?" I repeated, certain I had misheard. "A taste of what?"
"A taste of you, my lady," she said in a low, seductive voice.
My mouth opened and closed once, uselessly.
"I can only imagine how your plump lips would taste against mine, how it would feel to have you writhing against me," she told me.
Every muscle in my body locked.
"Your aura alone," she went on, inhaling deeply as if savoring the air around me, "is intoxicating."
She closed her eyes briefly and moaned again.
"Your scent," Seraphielle murmured, eyes half-lidded now, "it’s driving me mad. I want you."
"Take me instead," Morthen sighed dreamily.
That irritated me.
"First," I snapped, "before we talk any further, remove whatever enchantment you have on my people."
She turned to Morthen and Vaelory. "I can’t help it if they’re attracted to me."
"You are a succubus," I said sharply. "I know you’re doing something, and it’s not because they’re simply attracted to you. If you don’t remove it, then we’re not going to talk."
She huffed, but did as I requested. "It’s not an enchantment, my lady. It’s an enthrallment."
I rolled my eyes.
"Now, back to wh—"
"No," I said immediately.
I thought that would be enough to stop her. Instead, she smiled wider, like she enjoyed being told no.
"I’m engaged," I added quickly. "To the Demon King. To your king."
Seraphielle shrugged, utterly unconcerned.
"That doesn’t mean you can’t explore relationships with other people," she said lightly.
I stared at her like she’d grown an extra horn—on top of the two already on her head.
"Are you serious right now?" I asked slowly.
She tilted her head. "Why wouldn’t I be?"
I took a step back, putting distance between us. "I’m not going to let you have a taste of me or let you feel me writhing against you. That’s not going to happen. At all."
"Oh," she said softly. "That just made you more attractive."
My jaw tightened.
"I knew it," she continued, eyes gleaming. "I knew there was a reason I was taken with you from the beginning."
"That’s enough," Vaelory snapped.
Seraphielle’s gaze flicked toward her for the first time, irritation flashing briefly across her perfect features.
"She’s not interested," Vaelory said firmly, stepping closer to my side. "And this is harassment."
I had to give it to Vaelory—no one would have guessed she was afraid of demons with how she was standing right now.
Seraphielle snarled. The sound was sharp and ugly.
She turned fully toward Vaelory, eyes narrowing. "Careful, human."
Vaelory didn’t flinch.
Then Seraphielle turned away from her and looked at Morthen instead.
"I’ve been wondering," she said idly.
She lifted a finger and pointed directly at Vaelory.
"But who is the human always following the queen," she asked coolly, "and why is she dressed so hideously?"