<span style="font-family:Philosopher">Daemon rose to his full height once more as he waited for the woman to follow his command. As he did an errant wave of his hand dismissed the fire that had danced like liquid light around his hand. Even he wouldn't hold on to helfire for longer than absolutely necessary. It possessed a corrupting touch of the Void about it in recent years that made Daemon nervous to use it.<br/>
<br/>
He had other magics at his disposal.<br/>
Contrary to what he had so far shown the Hunter, his Power had manifested itself most strongly in the use of <i>blood magike</i>. It was rare in a S'athean, more common in the North of the continent of his birth in the lands of K'arnea. Ugly rumor had swirled around Daemon for years after that, but they had not dissuaded him from learning the extent of his Power by traveling North to live with the Priests of Mar'isi, the Blood God. In the hollow halls of the Crimson Crypts, Daemon had trained and studied for five years until a missive from the Emperor of Athea had come to tell him to return to S'unai'spar to assume his duties as Crown Prince.<br/>
<br/>
He had chosen exile instead.<br/>
<br/>
Here he was, years later, and about to torture a Pirate Hunter in one of the worst ways a human being can be forced to endure. It had seemed almost absurd to a detached corner of Daemon's brain, the remote recess of his mind that was all Athean Prince; cold calculation and ironic observer. After all, he had been part of a lineage dating back since before the First Age. The dynasty contained a plethora of heroes and titans of history, and here he was toying with a woman of no name, merely a title. Hell, she could be an Athean but that wouldn't stay his hand would it? No. He'd gut her all the same if she crossed the line from amusement to contumelious. <br/>
<br/>
None of those details mattered. In the blood, it was all the same.<br/>
Seeing the way the fear spiked in her eyes at the word of burn, he knew she would obey him. As he kept glancing at her, pinning her with his bright emerald eyes, he grabbed the chair and a bread knife from the table and dragged the over to the edge of the bed. While she muttered those simple words of defeat, his sharp ears picking up the almost silent second utterance, he sat down lightly in the chair and hitched his feet up on to the bed, away from the woman though.   <br/>
<br/>
Using the knife he had brought over from the table, he began to work the tip beneath one of his fingernails absentmindedly. He was patient in allowing her to take her time taking her clothes off. The boots sailed by him to thunk heavily on to the hardwood of the floor near the bed and he frowned at the noise, sparing a glance at them before he went back to cleaning another fingernail. He made no comment on the curious sound yet. There would be plenty of time to uncover that little mystery. As he cleaned his fingernails with the razor sharp edge of the knife, picking away at the dirt there lay trapped there, the Hunter pulled her feet beneath her to come to her knees and he paused in the tedious cleaning of nail before lovemaking. Even in his seating position, he was taller than her as she knelt there and that made a small smile curl his features as the predator looking at his petite prey.  As her gaze locked on to bright stare, the smile grew and he summoned a bit of the helfire once more to his fingers to remind her of the fate that awaited her if she did not get to the business of removing her clothing quicker.<br/>
<br/>
He was somewhat disappointed when she broke eye contact to pull string of shirt to reveal a tight, black corset beneath the shirt. He nodded in appreciation at the curves in her figure and the strength in the muscled tone of her shoulders. She did not disappoint. She was a warrior through and through. She would have tore through his crew if fate had not interceded and placed her in a position where she would be taken without the unnecessary bloodshed. He stared at her as she unhooked the corset to fall away. He sat back in the chair as he took in the beauty of her flesh, but frowned as he saw the bruises that painted a purple and blue tableau across the surface of her skin. He noted with growing contempt as he saw the worst bruises clustered around her ribs, reminding him of the kick he had placed there earlier. The fact that, without her corset, her breasts were exposed as well was a noticeable point/s of desire for him as they served to distract him from the past tender ministrations she had so far been gifted by his touch. They were large and heavy, terminating in pale pink nipples that had his mouth salivating.<br/>
<br/>
He wanted more. He tore his gaze from her breasts to let the bread knife drop to the floor. It thunked in to the wood point first. He looked up at her and kicked the chair back from the bed in a sudden clatter as he rose to his full height. It was obvious the reason for his sudden action, the rising tumescence between his legs readily apparent. He was also relived to find her seeming to tense under his looming, more so than she had been already. A new shade had spread across her face, a most delightful red that was showing just how much effect he was having on her. <i>Kissed by Mar'isi'</i>, the Priests would say. He was thanking himself once more for fate gifting him with such a prize. She might survive after all... if the beauty was not a veneer. However, his preternatural senses honed by the Priests and his ability of being able to touch <i>Power</i> had irrevocably changed him. He could taste her fury and humiliation as if they were wine. He was becoming quite attached to her in just a few moments and then the Prince spoke in Daemon's mind: <i>Do not be seduced by pride and lust</i>. His eyes seemed to flicker for a moment in the darkness of the cabin before he leaned forward, using the light of the helfire on his fingertips to bring more of her beauty to his eyes and thus increase her discomfort.<br/>
<br/>
He watched as she she grabbed the waistband and pushed down her pants but did not complete in removing them from her calves. He frowned in impatience as he saw the small simple panties she wore and the pants still wrapped around her lower legs keeping him from the prize he so desperately sought to devour. Summoning more of the helfire, the room brightened considerably before he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. The next part was not easy as he had to direct but a tiny drop of the wave of <i>Power</i> that threatened to overwhelm him to such a limited surface <i>and</i> somehow direct it to attack the surface and not burn the woman to a crisp. However, the Priests had trained him well. The green fire raced across the surface of her pants and underwear like water until one brief moment, they were consumed in the fire. Daemon growled, his brow breaking out in a cold sweat, as he jerked his hand away and the fire seemed to race across an invisible wire back to Daemon's hand to flare once before he waved his hand and dismissed the flame. <br/>
<br/>
Not even dust remained of the pants or underwear. Of her skin, not even a burn or hair singed. He smiled at his handiwork and wiped a forearm across his forehead. It had taken more energy than he had imagined it would, but he was growing quickly back to strength once more, supping on her shock, fear, and humiliation. He brought a knee up on to the bed once more as his tumescence had grown to a rather startling size, even as her eyes were drawn to it, she would see it pulse. <i>Oh, one of many gifts of being Annointed in Blood</i>, he thought coldly. Seeing her completely nude before him and setting eyes on the small, blond thatch between her legs had been a godsend, but first he was determined to do something about those bruises and lacerations. A little more work and she would be fit to serve him.<br/>
</span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d"><span style="font-family:Philosopher">"Lay down, legs together."</span></span>