Amara Hanu was something of juxtaposition against the colors of the dying sky, sitting amongst a natural assortment of rocks and earth, while golden reams of hair undulated against her shoulders. Vibrant and fierce oculars reflected the glowing spectrum of the settling sun, and silently, almost meditatively, she ingested the majesty of it all. And perhaps if nostalgia had a scent, taste, or anything that could be attributed to the senses, she would have been overwhelmed with its feeling then. The colors – from soft roses extending outwards, to blotches of cream-orange and yellow – were heavily reminiscent of Brazil, and of a time long passed. Inhalations, slow and steady, donned on her cognizance like rainwater, and trickled memories of her childhood once over again. Perhaps that was what brought the Latina here in the first place, those blurry recollections of a childhood running through the bush, plucking verdant growth from its place and weaving it into her unkempt mane. Where the sun kissed her skin a thousand times over, and she boasted a rich caramel color, where days were nearly endless and nights were as dark and sweet as the cacao bean. Yet…these longings remained intangible desired pressed against her mind, all whisked away into a state of nothingness with a slight shrug. Longing, the native Brazilian reminded herself, would not achieve anything. Best to continue with the course of life as it is, period.

That indifferent stare, as icy cold and emotionless as the cerulean opticals it was birthed from, gazed out into the distance without meaning. Eyes staring so deeply at nothingness that everything in her vantage begun to lose semblance, until the trees in the distance were nothing but shadows of brown, and gradually black as the sun retreated from its position. The shimmer of a golden sun was no longer reflected itself in the chunky bronze bangles settled against her wrist, moonlight now glistening its clean rays against the peek of her emerald tinted negligee from beneath her robe. She shifted her position, tilting her head backwards and exhaling, while flaxen curls worked their way down her back, and took in the fresh wash of moonlight. Upon first glance, it would seem, that she was merely lost in the moment, unaware of her surroundings and wholly self-absorbed. The complete opposite, however, held more validity. Amara was entranced by her surrounding, an empathic bond between her and the earth pulsating in unison with her bodily rhythms. If the earth were to ever vocalize its laments, it would be to Amara Hanu, through gelid rainshowers, withering and dying, and as a product of the planet, she would abide to listen to Nature’s story. These fickle details, while intricately beautiful in solace, were not enough to fully intoxicate the South American; some faint glimmer of unearthly light flickered in her peripherals. But, if she were able to review such a shimmer, it was not bright at all. If anything, it had been an onyx burst of light, beautiful and strange.

Slender, well-sculpted legs extended, pulling her curvaceous form from the slightly damp grass. A grand, but polite, sweep of the hand against her panty-less bottom followed, to loosen any grass or dirt that may have absorbed there. Naked toes wriggled in the grass, foot sized indentations marking her steps along the way. She had not stepped far from her place of meditation when she rounded a corner, azure eyes bewildered at the sight before her. Long lashes fluttered once, twice, and several times more at the prismatic scene. “ Inacreditável,” she uttered in a warm alto, Portuguese inflections heavily pressed against every syllable. It was a myriad of colors, swirling intently against one another, though quite perceivably an illusion. But…no. Illusions were not this tangible, never this delicately drafted and morphed from ones own thoughts. Not even Amara, an earthen goddess in her own right, could conjure something of this caliber. Then, as if some commandeering force had beckoned her consciousness to it, her gaze shifted towards one particular flower. Caught in mid-bloom, with a spiraling center, and metallic all the way. Strange, beautiful, but most importantly – enigmatic. Cautiously, the young woman reached towards the flower, her free hand raking a curtain of blonde curls from her visage, fingertips reaching forward hungrily.

But, Amara did not touch. It seemed unnatural to be so enticed by a strange, metal flower. Better yet, how did something so peculiar come into existence? Rising back to her full height, a single curl danced against her cheeks, and her gazed remained dead on the rose. Almost…expectedly. A conglomeration of arousal, confusion, and some primal lust churned in her stomach, as she stood bewitched in the iridescent glade. The rose holding a sinewy hold on her attention.

[[Sorry about the length, I was prioritizing a bit.]]

A newness in her curiosity coursed through her with every palpitation of her heart; red-hot blood churning through her inquisitive form, flushing a shy rosy hue to her cheeks. The young ecology student had encountered her fair share of foreign plants and species on the secluded island, but nothing as imperious as the glistening rose settled before her. The entire glade, of course, was beyond amazing. A light, wispy miasma lifting from the perimeter, comparable to something only thought of in the quietness of a dream. A rushing night zephyr nudged the ends of her robe into motion, the pale colored fabric whipping against her thighs, flashing a taste of her youthful physique. The lapels, too, were caught in the gust, leaving her full bosom highlighted. They too were as tanned as the rest of her, leaving no mystery to how she spent her time under the sun. The South American was moderately distracted, slender fingers grasping onto the ends of her gown, yet doing little more than shifting the thin material about her body. An exasperated sigh escaped her lips, and she disregarded a sense of decency all together. She, after all, was certain that most of the other residents would be inside at this time of the evening.

As if the mere sight of the rose had not impregnated her senses with an envious longing, pierced through all the defenses she had so tactically acquired, and created a cavernous pit of inquiries – a second motion reached out to her senses. A slow and sweet, saccharine aura wafted into her nostrils with each inhalation. As soft as any natural perfume the earthen goddess had ever smelled. Slowly, like molasses or something boastfully as sweet, an proverbial sensation crept into her nostrils, down into her lungs, and became lost in the maze of her body. A sort of warmth caressed her, nigh impossible amidst the gelid night winds, but completely there. Perhaps, she was losing a sense of self suddenly? Or this was all some teasing mirage concocted by a subconscious want for home, off of Shokushu and thrust back into the tribe. It was her tribulation with the existence of the wondrous garden that held her back, despite every fiber of her body leaning forward eagerly, screaming at her to drop those boundaries and simply let loose. Just a touch. A touch. Go, on.

Her bottom lip caught in her teeth and an observatory glance was cast over her shoulder – checking her surroundings, a small huntress part of her that would never leave, before she let the hunger of curiosity consume her. Wordlessly, she crept forward, fingers extended, shaking. Amara settled her fingers around its stem, her face bent in dangerously close to take a satisfying whiff of its peculiar aroma.

Upon her initial inhalation of the rose, Amara could tell that the botanic wonder between her fingers was more than a mere flower. In fleeting, blissful moments she welcomed the delicate fragrance into her system, pulling the flower ever closer to her face.

Moments of beauty and tranquility were no sooner withered away, the soft odyl that had previously enveloped her was rapidly waning, as if submerged in some oleaginous substance. A startled breath rushed past her full lips, dejected motions attempting to fling the ore-colored flower. What was bright and alluring instantaneously melted into deep ebony, and remained something a specter of the wonder that was there only moments ago. An expression of true confusion played against her façade, muted exclamations caught in the back of her throat. Reflex took over the steadily moving cogs of in her mind, fingers releasing from the stem and jerking backwards – to no avail. In the space that would have been emptiness materialized atramentous growth, thorny tendrils coiling about her trembling fingers, avaricious vinery shredding the thin fabric from the shoulder with unyielding speed. Through that muddled lump uncomfortably settled in her throat, she managed to squeeze out a raspy shriek, and throw her free hand onto her shoulder, in hopes of ripping the venomous growth from her body. Jaw muscles tensed, obdurate gaze focused on the impossible task at hand. Her nails, short and stubby, did their offensive best to ward off the sudden growth. This whole ordeal was…eerie, uncanny, and at the very least, frightening, but the young Brazilian quickly composed herself, willing her countenance to not show a sliver of fear.

Noticing the swirling eddy from her peripherals, her vantage cut from her shoulder to newly materialized pool before her. It churned like liquid, which would have been impossible, but at this point – the glade haven dissolved into nothingness and her right arm encased in some raven growth – she was not in a position to question the physics of what was happening. Lucid sapphire eyes watched intently as the swirling luminescence produced a humanoid figure. Her top lip quivered, part in anger and part in sheer awe, but remained firmly clasp shut. The Brazilian was a bit notorious for speaking what was on her mind, sporadically and even inappropriately, however, something about this occasion forewarned her to hold her silence. Her downward gaze was soon shifted, neck craning backwards to follow the lambent amber oculars. The aphotic figure continued to collect height until it towered over the student. Her soft, upward tilted chin was somewhere parallel to his abdomen – chest even. A tall and bulking build that she had never encountered before, and one to surely strike something akin to nervousness into that granite exterior of hers.

“What mortal dares disturb this sanctuary?”

A clearly masculine, and somewhat inhuman timbre sent a slow shiver along the length of her spine. His voice was a foreign decibel to her ears, and had created an amalgam of emotions within her petite chest. A metal mask in the same shade as the haunting flower she had picked covered most of his face, but Amara was certain it was a man that spoke, and he his syllables were slick with a sickening regalement. Her body was racked with choleric anger, which was thickly coated in her own style of fear, and the former was present in the piercing gaze she cast in his direction. Paying no care to his previous inquiry, she announced her own demands, “Unhand me!” She uttered, accent alit with rage. She felt that this attempt had been audacious, but was well aware of her disposition. Perhaps if she maintained this big exterior, which did not match the waves of fear with her, the enigma would leave her alone.

[[Apologies, again.]]

In this very position, her thighs parted slightly, well-toned Amazonian muscles pressed against evenly tanned skin, as her body leaned away dejectedly, failing efforts to release herself from the living helotry; a small, but ample, bosom strained against her nightgown, protesting their confinements as ardently as Amara herself. Undeterred, she clawed furiously at the specimen attached to her arm, brows burrowing in a slight wince as it tightened its hold. Wispy, translucent black tendrils had coalesced at some point, though she was oblivious to their being, being currently distracted by the male figure looming before her. In all her five feet and five inches, she had never felt smaller.

“You see my dear, I’m afraid that I’m unable to do that.”

Irate gaze flickered upwards, a steely stare through long blonde lashes, attempting to show some stark contrast to the weak hold her legs had on her body. There was a discernible quiver at the bend of her knees, though she adamantly tried to deny the existence of the tremble. He circled her, a domineering presence weighing on her back, even when he was clear out of her vantage. Strands of golden hair fell upon cheeks as neck craned round to follow his slow, methodical gait about her. Then – his touch was sudden and warranted a hushed shuddering gasp to expel from her pouted lips. Flimsy, and now useless, material skimmed the back of her legs as it fell away, discarded. His voice carried heavy mockery, actions in tow. The easiness of his amble, the motions, the very timber of his voice belittled her. It was condescending, though not explicitly, and struck another livid nerve.

“You’ve disturbed my garden. And you’ve destroyed a very valuable piece of property, which pains my heart you see. I’m afraid you’re simply going to have to pay for what you’ve broken.”

His rimy talons sent a series of uncontrollable shivers down the length of her spine, boring into some cavernous reserve within her stomach, and setting soft rouge to cheeks. The grasp pursed her lips, a very visible hint of fear licking across sapphire oculars. She could have sworn her heartbeats were audible now, coming faster, he had to hear them. Amara forced down a dry gulp, mustering some control over herself. Meekly, though with as much vexation as she could muster, she spat. The wild, maniacal, calculating eyes of an Amazon fiercely entangled themselves in his gaze. Her actions of defiance were bold, however, a Hanu tribesman had never been one to fall easily. After all, trepidation was not present, yet.

With a startling, breath-taking shock the man struck her, tendrils of flaxen hair following the trajectory of his hand. As willed as she wished to remain, especially in this pinnacle moment, Amara let out a harsh scream. The smacked area quickly turned from almond-tan to a bright scarlet, and a familiar metallic taste spread across her tongue. Lucid oculars cut in his direction, her arm rising to protect herself from a second hit. Her entire body flinched, most definitely displeased with the lash. Damn that ornery streak she had running through her, those obdurate Brazilian genes had placed her in this position. Silently, she cursed to herself, for not only showing weakness, but being snarky enough to warrant this. Holding her silence, the tribeswoman watched as the demonic being opted not to strike her again. Instead seemingly retreating, but not in actuality, for that tenacious hold on her arm had not lessened.

“I’ve killed for less significant forms of disrespect woman. You’ve made it painfully obvious, my feral beauty, that you don’t enjoy my company. Perhaps I should accommodate your needs. You want to act like an uncivilized beast?”

He had the audacity. Amara had participated in entrapping animals far wilder than him! She was livid, boiling to the point of screaming out expletives in her native tongue. Yet, she held it back. As much as it pained her, she was reserved. Like a serf in chains, bound not only physically, but a gradual mental and emotion hold was overtaking her. There was no disguising the fear that raised goosebumps on the surface of her flesh.

“Well, if you hate me so, then I’m sure you’ll absolutely adore my friends.”

A loud, resonating snap sliced through the air, jolting the youthful Brazilian into motion. She wriggled against her restraints, uncertain of what was blindly unfolding. Then, quickly after the first cacophonous snap, several more followed. Thick blonde lashes fluttering over her watery eyes as she braced herself from the unknown. Amara could feel a powerful tremble in her knees, stronger than any she gave before. But…nothing. There was no pain, no brilliant flash of light. Just a dearth of sound and a now seated menace. Slowly, she reopened her eyes, as frightened gaze now focusing in on six imps huddled before the makeshift throne. Master and minions exchanged words, unimportant and unheard to the naturalist as she threw in more effort in releasing herself. Her torso twisted, the silky texture of her negligee creating elegant folds as she shifted. Bare toes wriggled in the dirt, her footing giving her little leverage against the restraints. She would have attempted to kick herself free had it not been for the acute feel of sticky digits against her ankles; now holding them fiercely into place, preventing her from doing little more than flailing about. A winged creature glided above her head, talons jarring into her soft flesh and warranting a sharp inhalation from the student. A final set of hands attached themselves to her breast, squeezing and twisting them as if they were some malleable material.

“Forgive them, they’re a bit…overzealous. If you find you dislike their company, I may be willing to hear your apology whore.”

“You are not a man,” she growled, utterances thick with abhorrence, lips pulling back into a irate snarl. She would have continued to delineate her disdain, jet-black hatred churning within her, but paused to whimper at the slow and wet feel of a tongue against her legs. Tiny claws pricked against tender flesh, sending jolts of guilty energy up her elegantly curved spine. She shuddered. Then, warding off those fickle lustful feelings, she struggled for composure, for control, and for the strength to finish her statement. “You have no strength. You coward. Calling upon – ah!” Amara gulped, stopped in mid-sentence as her neck reflexively jerked as Ayperos ran his tongue down her neck. Jaw clenched shut to prevent a muffled gasp, surely out of exasperation, if anything. Never, never could her body be responding positively to these vile and disgusting little imps. The earthen goddess flung her head forward, neck jutting out towards the seated behemoth. “Calling upon these selvagens*. You have nothing of yourself!” She blurted out the completed statement, just barely suppressing an agitated grunt in response to the rough handling of her bosom.

[[*selvagens = savages, Brazilian Portuguese.]]

[Sorry for the wait.]

He hardly cared for the woman’s angry insults as they spewed from her full, pink lips. A wide smile spread across the demon’s face, crinkling the corners of his eyes as he basked in the entertainment of the struggling girl. It was evident that she was petrified despite her anger, he could taste the emotions as they emitted from her heated form. He shifted again in his throne and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly as she had the audacity to call him a coward.

What did he have to be scared of anyhow? A sniveling human girl who was dumb enough to fall into such an obvious trap? Anything that beautiful is obviously a lure, the demon surmised with undeniable logic. He let his head rest on the palm of his hand as his darklings continued their malicious work.

As the woman struggled against Ayperos, aggravatingly swatting at his form as his attempted to get situated, her thorny constraints traveled across her shoulder, quickly entangling her free arm. The vines seemed to drip away from her slender fingertips, jutting towards the ground before surging into the Earth in attempt to pull the woman to her knees. Abbadon quickly adjusted to the new position using his sheer weight to pin her legs against the ground as her voluptuous ass came into view.

“Waaahoo!” Gaap squealed with glee, his clawed hands frantically tearing away at the remaining fabric that barely concealed the woman’s lithe form. Several shreds billowed towards the ground until the woman was fully nude. He gave her rump a firm smack before running his tongue along the firm, exposed mounds one of his clawed fingers teasingly prodding at her netherlips, but not yet penetrating.

Berith had resolved to simply sliding beneath the woman, lowering his cracked lips against one of her soft, exposed buds before taking the buttersoft nipple into his warm mouth. He toyed with the tender nub, his snakelike tongue sliding firmly against the quickly hardening bundle of nerves.

Ayperos had fluttered into the air as the woman made her descent towards the ground, seemingly pinned. He landed just between her shoulder blades and ran a clawed hand through her flaxen locks, taking a handful of the lustrous hair and yanking backward harshly.

“It seems they’ve taken a liking to you.” The demon dictator painfully stated as the shielded underbelly on the darklings began to give away, their full erect cocks, varying in size jutting outward into view.

“I’d have to say it shouldn’t be long now my dear.” He taunted, his voice a façade of deepening concern.

“My ears may still perhaps be open to a sincere apology should your feral mouth permit it.”

[[OMFG this is the shittiest thing ever, and I'm sooo sorry. My muses just are not cooperating with this post. Please tell me if I need to edit or anything. Many, many apologies.]]

Amara’s irate defenses were melting, like boreal sculptures under the sun; proverbial droplets of hope and pride begun to slip through her fingers like oil. It was quite obvious that she no longer had an advantage here – but, had she ever really had one? From the moment she set foot in that glistening glade, enticed by iridescent swirls of colors, she had been defeated. The realization of such was painful, tangible even. Against these four little demons, her sense of pain was gradually being replaced by an embarrassing lust.

Savage claws went about tearing her clothes from her, leaving Amara bent and shivering, confused, and a conglomeration of a thousand other emotions. Those sharp, inhuman talons ran against her feminine regions, warranting a stifled yelp from her. She was paralyzed, broken, even…

"I'm sorry." She forced through grit teeth, hot tears now brimming at the corners of her eyes. "I'm sorry!" Amara repeated louder now, her alto intonations presenting true fear, with an underlying hint of shameful felicity. With much discomfort, she hung her head. The apology having done more damage to her pride than anything these little imps had. Warmth resonated from her constrained breast and from her nether regions and the realization of such brought a ruby hue to her cheeks, long flaxen lashes fluttered downwards in shame.

[As I said before, it's great Amara ;p]


He watched as the last shredded remnants of the Latina’s clothes fluttered toward trhe ground. Almond-shaped eyes, alight with a soft yellow hue trailed along the contours of the woman’s succulent body. He started there at her bare feet, slightly browned by affinity with nature, the rare ability for a modern woman to look past the world’s grit and grime and see the true beauty of the Earth. He trailed then from her delicate ankles to her slender, curvy legs. He wandered their length before coming to a hesitant stop at her firm, round buttocks. He watched as his minion Gaap, manipulate the luscious flesh, doing well to suppress a satisfied gasp as he mused at the thoughts of being able to handle that substantial rear in his own hands. He could feel his form sustaining itself on sheer excitement alone, and reluctantly tore his gaze away from her helpless body.

Pan’s talons slowly ran the length of the armrest on the makeshift throne; the soft grate of the razor sharp nails rang through the air as they clawed across the obsidian structure. Every ounce of his muscled body yearned to take the golden-haired beauty before him, the primal side in the beast quickly surfacing within his definitive thoughts. He clenched his hand, fighting against the throbbing headache that pounded at the back of his temples. He noted a particular ruby colored flower shimmering beside his throne and eagerly plucked it away, a short metallic ring cutting through the air as he did. He turned the delicate specimen over in his hands, comforted by the soft whimpers and aggravated groans emitting from the breaking student. He inhaled deeply, the part of Pan that was demon sensing the delectable taste in the air of shame, arousal and fear.

“I’m Sorry!”

Like music to his ears the delicate voice, thick with accent snapped his attention away from the crystalline flower, his yellow gaze resting on the defeated form of the exotic beauty before him. He stared for several more seconds and was surprised to hear a second apology, filled with a definitive amount of passion he hadn’t heard in the first one. A wide smile caused the corners of his eyes to crinkle beneath the mask that adorned the lower portion of his features.

He was quiet for several seconds, his eyes darting around the glade pausing every few seconds at certain intervals. Soundlessly a grayish mist closed around it’s borders, forming into a deviant, wispy webbing, silently enclosing the six figures inside.

Without a word from the demon on the throne the imps reluctantly halted in their assault, each casting a questioning glance towards their master who only shrugged. He could have been cruel, and ignored her cries. However, he considered as his eyes fell back upon the pale, helplessly bound figure, she was too much of a treat to leave to imps.

His voice resounded through the glade, causing a deceptive echo as he spoke.
“I’m supposing you haven’t yet had your fill,” He said, addressing his loyal imps. “This island harbors many humans, much like this one, for you to play with.” The mere suggestion of more girls quickly dissolved the look of disappointment that had been cast of the imp’s features. Pan waved his hand and the imps slowly released their hold on the poor girl backing away, Abbadon was the last to release his hold, quickly backing away from the woman. Gaap quickly pounced on Abbadon’s shoulder who leapt over the nearly invisible webbing, while Ayperos and Berith took flight, all four figures disappearing into the darkness.

The two were alone once more, and Pan said nothing for several moments as he admired the student’s body.

“You are wise beyond your years,” He began, the thorny tendrils that held the student rooted to the ground began to wind away from her form, burrowing into the metallic earth.

“Many would have simply endured such fates to upkeep the semblance of pride and…modesty.” He remarked, several billowing tendrils lingered above the demon’s head protruding from his back, a constant reminder of her fate should she choose to run. The tendrils slowly twirled through the air towards the woman but came to a comfortable stop several feet above her form.

His form slowly dissipated, reappearing silently behind the woman. His armor shifted subtly around his form, talons retracting away from his hands revealing the alabaster pale skin of his fingers. He slowly ran the digits down her bare shoulder, tracing the length of her arm and taking hold of her by her wrist. He wrapped his free hand around her waist and pulled her harshly against his body. He leaned down and barely breathed above a whisper.

“There’s still the matter of your repayment.”

Amara Hanu must have looked something like a living statue; a gelid shiver running down her spine and freezing her muscles, joints, movement to the very core – yet it was not the temperature of the night air brushing against her round, full bottom that sent such a cavernous chill into her gut, but the scary temptation of the unfolding situation. She was constricted beyond her control, the eager and fractious claws of his minion imps pinched and prodded her delicate skin, their warm, wet tongues dipping into her most sensitive regions, though not going as far as to feed into her rising arousal. The young woman continued her struggle, her well-filled proportions bouncing with ever bend and twist – every attempt to free herself warranted in some teasing display, her heavy breast naturally hanging and bouncing against one another, the fullness of her bottom also moving with erotic vigor. The creature behind her, Gaap, dug his inhuman digits into her buttocks, spreading twin cheeks and exposing her forbidden regions, which once exposed to sight and night air, twitched.

Having cracked her obdurate South American pride, Amara now glanced up at the humanoid figure, sapphire-hued oculars slowly taking in his unusual appearance, not failing to note a sort of nonchalance in his movements. Her temple creased slightly and a questionable expression fell upon her countenance as he sat in silence. Had he not been pleased with her apology? It certainly was out of character for her, but true nonetheless. Awaiting any sign of response, she swallowed, her mind doing best to ignore the teasing touches that her body could not. Still, no matter how enclosed and adamant her mind may have been, it was impossible to muffle the soft, barely audible gasps the slipped from her lips as her nipples became the subject of exploration by an imps tongue. Amara’s fingernails dug into her palms in resistance, teeth clenched shut and lids pressed shut against her vibrant, lucid lids. Temptation and heat wrapped itself around her feminine frame, and for a fleeting moment she was sure that these smaller, lesser creatures would torture her here in this position for hours. The idea was brief, and no sooner had it been conjured had the atmosphere shifted against. A deep, colorless miasma enclosed the group, and instantly her universe shifted. Under the firm command of their master, the imps were called off, peelings themselves from her body like petals from a flower, leaving her – the rip, seductive bulb – exposed.

“You are wise beyond your years. Many would have simply endured such fates to upkeep the semblance of pride and…modesty.”

The earthy bonds that held her slithered back into the ground, slender fingers reaching to rub her peachy flesh in areas were bruising was sure to occur. She had been freed, sure, but remaining were predatory tendrils floating above his head like apparitions. The young Brazilian woman, in all her nudity, dropped to her knees, hands unsuccessfully attempting to cover her exposed areas. She adverted her eyes from Pan and attempted to discern his statement. Was it…a compliment? Amara shuddered. Wrapping both arms across her bosom, she flicked her gaze up towards him, a hint of lost innocence glistening in her azure opticals. Pouty lips parted in an attempt to respond, but no sooner had she found the words, the beast-man had disappeared.

“There’s still the matter of your repayment.”

Neck craned round, her vantage was once again on him, her eyes following his extended hand, widening somewhat at the appearance of his pale, human-like flesh. And as he leaned into her, she held her breath, muscles rigid and eyes meeting his in bewilderment. Though a hulk, terrifying figure of a man, Amara was uncertain of what to do. The very palpitation of his breath against her skin made the hairs on her neck stand, her nipples harden, and her spine tingle. In a swift, startling motion, he pressed her body against his, her breasts squashed against his armored form. She had been cold to her bones, terrified and irate moments before, and as if she had drank from his ambrosial garden, those emotions no longer mattered; she was intoxicated, somewhat. “And in which form would you like payment?” She begun, her voice less aggressive than she intended. “I do not do anything for monsters.” She stated in a fiercer, unpleasant tone. Her body pulling from him as she spoke, as if suddenly remembering that she was here against her will.