Chapter 584: Way Too Close
(Author’s POV)
Myra’s breath was caught in her throat; her eyes were ready to pop out at the scene in front of her; her mouth hung open. ’Holy crap~ .... what in the world are those insane~ ....’ Her thoughts trailed. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
Right before her very eyes, the Lycan brothers were standing firm in nothing but their birth suits. Their well sculpted figures, every muscle, every inch of their skin, were in full view. Myra’s hazels gawked at all of them without restraint. At some point, her eyes turned saucers when they landed on their thick and veiny members.
Though she had never seen one in person before, she could tell their cocks were bigger than normal.
Flustered, her face turned crimson, the redness spreading to her ears and neck. She felt hot and parched.
"Myra~ .... your nose, you are~ ... bleeding~ ...." Brave said, his eyes full of concern as he took a step towards her. She touched her philtrum and realized Brave was right; she was having a nosebleed. Abashed, embarrassed, she quickly turned around to conceal her face from them.
Worried, they all drew near her, now standing a few centimetres away from her. Without a care for his appearance, he walked in front of her and spoke, "Myra, raise your head. Nosebleeds can be scary. Let me take a look." Actually, he didn’t perceive his nakedness.
Myra, whose head was lowered, didn’t budge and kept on staring at the ground. She could feel the heat radiating from their bodies. Their luscious odours were attacking her senses left, right and center. Her body was on fire now.
Elio extended his hand to raise her chin. Meeting her clean hazels, a gentle smile appeared on his pink, moist lips.
Tilting his head to the side, Dion’s face appeared by her side, "Myra~ ...." He called her name, his voice whispery.
Myra trembled at the sound and his cooing, flinching away to the other side, stumbling.
Alaric caught her wrist, steadying her. She looked at his face. Though his expression remained stoic and cold and he didn’t utter a word of concern like others, the warmth in his eyes and the one seeping from his palm told another story.
Her hand accidentally brushed against his biceps as she tried to back away again. But his hold on her was firm. He didn’t let her go; he wasn’t planning to. There were things he needed to talk to her about; several questions were cropping up in his mind that he wanted answers for. But right now, his and his wolf, Alex’s sole concern was her well being.
Myra couldn’t take it anymore. Her head felt heavy, her eyes rolled back as she swayed a little and passed out, falling onto Alaric’s bare chest.
He locked his arms around the small of her back, caging her securely in his embrace. Her energy had reached its limit. She was completely drained by the events that had unfolded.
Brave, Dion and Elio tried to take her, but before any of them could touch her, Alaric bent a little and carried her in a princess hold. He mumbled, "We don’t know what those demons might have done to this place. It is still not safe. We should take her away from here. She has been through too much." Saying this, he started walking.
The other three looked at each other, then at his receding, bare back with a complex look in their eyes. But none of them objected or said a word. They knew Alaric was right. Myra’s safety was top priority; other things could wait. Silently, they followed them, each one carrying their own complicated, jumbled thoughts.
_________________________
"YOU FUCKING VIPER," a thunderous voice erupted from the top of the stairs. The person, donning all black and red, with a bright roaring crown made of flames sitting brilliantly on his massively horned head.
Aamon’s head remained lowered, his eyes glued to the floor; he was on his knees as he refused to say another word. His demonic skin had turned leathery.
"I AM TALKING TO YOU. LOOK AT ME AND ANSWER ME," Ramiel, the current king of hell, roared, his eyes blazing furiously.
Every prince of hell, duke, infernal minister, and even lesser demon, every single person serving in hell in some capacity, was present in the massive hall, witnessing the mighty and proud Marquis of Hell, Lord Aamon’s fall.
Aamon raised his head, his eyes bloodshot and full of hatred. With gritted teeth, seethingly, he spat, every mask of his calmness broken, "Why did you bring me back? Why did you save me? My queen~ .... my beloved Elisa~ .... is still left there. I want to go to her. I want to be with her. Let me go. LET ME GOOO BACKKK~~~ ..."
Ramiel’s hand trembled at his sheer audacity. He raised his colossal staff and thumped it on the rocky ground. The floor and the walls vibrated as if a massive earthquake had occurred. The audience present staggered, struggling to keep themselves steady.
Aamon’s head lurched forward as he spat a mouthful of foul, blue blood. "YOU HAVE GONE COMPLETELY SENILE, AAMON. YOU HAVE BEEN MY SUBJECT AND SERVED ME FOR MORE THAN FIVE MILLENIALS. I CONSIDERED YOU MY TRUSTED SUBJECT, YET YOU DARED TO BACKSTAB ME. FOR WHO~ .... FOR THAT LOWLY, WORTHLESS ELISA."
"Don’t you dare use such words for my queen," Aamon barked. "She is the demon queen, the queen of nightmares."
"HAHH~ .... YOU HAVE TOTALLY LOST YOUR DAMN MIND OVER HER, HUHH? THE DEMON QUEEN, THE QUEEN OF NIGHTMARE, THOSE ARE PRESTIGIOUS TITLES, NOT FOR AS CRUDE AND UNRULY AS THAT WOMAN," Ramiel spoke coldly.
With a penetrating gaze, he bored his obsidian eyes at Aamon, "YOU WERE COVETING MY THRONE, AND PLOTTED TREASON WITH THAT WHORE. AND THAT SLY BITCH~ .... WAS READY TO FUCK ANYONE TO ACHIEVE HER GOAL."
"Don’t slander her name," Aamon was still defending her as he pointed a broken finger towards Ramiel.
The people around them gasped in horror. A few centuries ago, Aamon used to be a loyal and most devoted subject of the king of hell, and now, he was looking Ramiel in the eyes, defying the king, opposing him. No one was expecting that.
"YOU DON’T BELIEVE ME. SEE FOR YOURSELF~ .... WHAT KIND OF WOMAN WAS SHE~ ..." Saying this, Ramiel clapped his hands, as a giant screen appeared in the middle of nowhere. "THIS IS HER MEMORY CORE. LOOK AT THE KIND OF WHORE YOU HAVE DESTROYED YOUR LIFE, YOUR FUTURE FOR."
To Be Continued . . . . . . . . . .