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The brute’s eyes watched her with that intensity that required no effort to produce. As he lay above her, his hackles rose as if to display his dominance. Her body was brought up to brush against him as the lighter female spoke. The male was unmoved, unresponsive, his body as a stone and just as cold. Her body was physical, like all females, but it was only that, only physical. He did not lust for such things, though he heard that desire within her voice that was so intricately linked with that physical one. He could feel the heat of her loins, but he did not desire it. He desired what was beyond the physical, and he would take it from her. The darkness in her heart would be made to blossom as the life would be made to manifest within her womb. Although the child would not be as it could be within Cwmfen’s womb, although it would not carry within it a true darkness, he knew that it would be enough for these wretched lands. Already he had dipped himself in it, spreading the darkness before his departure.
“If you require it,” the tenor soothed with dangerously assuaging tones, “you must be willing to sacrifice something for it.” As he spoke, his words became marred by his Korean tongue, as if he sought to speak it. The brute sneered with that black mockery, one hand trailing down her arm and to that small sliver in her neck. The black claws touched it quietly with a sadistic curiosity, his gaze lingering upon it before returned to the lighter eyes of the female. “Submit to me,” the tenor whispered insidiously, those jaws still lingering and hungering above hers. “Give your soul to me.” His hand trailed down to where he could feel her heart beating, the claws pressing against her skin as if he sought to rip out the beating organ. “I am its master now.” He said it as if her soul had already been given, that it existed and was in his possession.