The Demon and His Griffin

Yours? Mine.

Valtor puts his personal brand on Griffin.

Violet ghosted down the hallway of the grand castle walls, in search of one person in particular. Valtor had to be around here somewhere, she mused, he would have told her if he was leaving. She slowed down as she was about to pass the library, deciding she should stop to check there. Valtor was easily engrossed in the massive collection of books and spells and magic their coven had acquired and kept here.

She stopped entirely upon hearing the voices of the some of the elder witches and worlocks. They were arguing, and she caught her name thrown in the mix of barely understandable words. Peeking around the corner to the library, she saw Valtor pacing through the crack in the door, clearly irritated about something. Harsh words and unpleasant feelings rolled over her. He ran a hand threw his hair and looked ready to throw something in frustrated anger when he caught a glimpse of her through the crack. He actually looked startled to see her there, like he had forgotten she too resided in the castle.

Instead of waiting for an explanation she bolted back in the direction she came, she had heard enough unpleasantness to come to the conclusion that she was no longer wanted. She cloaked herself in magic spells and made it up to their bedroom. The door softly closed behind her and she leaned back against it, her turbulent emotions exhausting her, and she found herself fighting not to cry. That was weak, and she wasn't weak, she repeated over and over.

Quickly she grabbed a few things that wouldn't be noticed, no one would be able to tell she'd even left. No one besides maybe Valtor, she amended. Looking back around the room one last time she felt her heart crumbling to pieces. Just rip off the band aid, Violet, she scolded herself. In a quick motion she pulled the door open only to find Valtor standing there waiting for her. He didn't give her any time to react and sidestepped into the room, closing the door behind him and she backed away as he matched her step-for-step until her knees hit the edge of the bed and she fell backwards, landing up sitting on it.

Her eyes burned and she knew that she was starting to cry.

"Violet." he spoke softly in a manner that was often uncharacteristic of him. "Violet, my dear, look at me." His voice was still soft, but commanding. She grit her teeth as she stubbornly refused to give in, the last thing she needed was for him to look into her eyes and see weakness.

Fingers grasped her chin and roughly forced her to look up, finally she met his gaze. "Oh, my wicked lovely Violet, you should know better." He admonished. "Like I would ever listen to what any of those fools have to say. My mothers think quite highly of you, and theirs is the only opinion besides my own that matters to me when it comes to you." Now he crouches down so he is closer to her, "And I am quite terribly in love with you. I have no intentions of ever letting you leave me." He brushed his fingers across her cheeks, catching her tears as he held her face in gentle hands.

"You're mine." The words are simple, but they seal her fate.

"I'm yours." She returns the declaration in kind, with those two words she submits to him completely. The look he gives her is a beastly lust and he hungrily kisses her, pushing her back until he is above her, pressing her into the soft mattress.

He kisses ghost across her skin and he leaves her with many marks to claim her before he decides to brand her with his special magical mark. The purple lines seem to glow against the pale skin on her neck, and he smiles in satisfaction when she doesn't object or squirm at the sensation. "Now everyone will know that you are mine, and mine alone." He tells her, his teeth nibbling at the skin around the mark and her fingers grasp tightly at his shirt as she gasps for breath. "Mine." He repeats with finality, a satisfied, smug sound that makes her heart skip a beat.

"Yours. Always yours."