Split of the Worlds

Chapter 6.2

He had been waiting for this. N'Arahn's hand shot forward and he closed it tightly around her wrist. He was certainly causing his angel pain, but there was no other way. Besides, he was enjoying the little fight. In one fluid motion, he pushed himself off the ground with his other hand enough to turn onto his back and pulled Veidja on top of him. She slammed down hard on his armor. He immediately wrapped her in an embrace that squeezed the air from her lungs with a tiny gasp. Nevertheless, she squirmed to escape the embrace. Yes, a true warrior. The metal plates had to cut through the thin fabric and into her flesh, something she obviously took no heed of. She struggled one arm free and slid her hand to the side of his head out of his field of vision. As she scored herself on the sharp spikes of his shoulder armor, he smelled her blood.

Immediately, N'Arahn felt the familiar pleasant rush rise within him. Angel's blood had that effect. And hers, since she had given it to him willingly... The otherwise perfectly fitting armor suddenly tightened almost painfully in his crotch. Involuntarily, the demonlord rumbled a throaty groan. Veidja had worked her way a few centimeters further up him, completely focused on the chain. Since he needed both arms to hold her, she didn't need to fear his hands right now. He briefly assessed whether it would be enough. Yes.

At the same time, he pushed his angel a little higher and lowered his head abruptly so that his helmeted forehead slammed against her head. With all his suddenness, he was careful not to crack her skull or break it open with his horns. As Veidja collapsed on top of him, the heavy clanking next to his head told him that it had been a close call. The cuff at the end of the chain was sharp-edged, a dangerous weapon in hands like hers.

N'Arahn rose to a sitting position, keeping her pressed against him with one arm so she wouldn't hit the ground roughly. Her head rested on his upper arm, her white-blonde hair falling over the black metal as a beautiful contrast. A red trickle oozed from a laceration on her eyebrow.

She was already moving again; he didn't have time to look at her any longer. He laughed quietly to himself. Time and again he forgot how tough she was.

- - - - -

Veidja suddenly came to her senses again. She felt her back hit the bed after a short flight. And the demon with her, for he was directly above her, had pulled her with him in a leap. He knelt between her legs, stretching her arms out wide in opposite directions. A cuff clicked around her right wrist as he stared down at her.

She wasn't defeated yet, so she squirmed again. But she found no leverage, N'Arahn's weight pinning her down.

"I don't want to hurt you any more than absolutely necessary," he said sternly. He shifted his weight slightly. She felt his knee against her inner thigh and knew what that meant. His armor had sharp blades there, too. The metal must have slashed the sheets when he had jumped onto the bed with her. Now she felt it cold against her skin through the thin fabric.

He could impale her like a butterfly. She didn't want to end up like this. It didn't matter to her what her duty would have been. Trying would just be defiance without any chance; that just wouldn't be a worthy death. Once again.

Veidja let him straighten up, bringing her arms together. He closed one of his large hands around both of the angel's wrists to reach for the second cuff. With two movements, he also placed a cuff around her left wrist and wrapped the guide chain around his hand. Then the demonlord pinned Veidja's arms above her head on the bed and used his other hand to prop himself up next to her. She heard him draw in his breath against her face. Startled, she turned away as far as she could. Avoided his gaze, his desire. She immediately felt the green-skinned man's touch on her skin again. The way he had run his tongue over her body, tasting her blood. The memories of her helplessness were so vivid that she almost panicked.