SHORT SPICY STORIES

FIRNES: Firnes are powerful immortal creatures (naturally women) who draw powers from Men's semen. They cannot be killed unless they are seriously mentally unstable (which is rare). But even when healthy, they can be killed my Male Firnes (which are rare as well).

HORDE: A horde is like a pack.

LAIR: This is where a Firne Horde inhabit.

KYRIAR: This is the leader of a Horde. A group of Kyriars are known as The Amethyst.

SYFIRL: The supreme head of Firnes. Above the Amethyst. She resides in Amperes and have total control over it.

AMPERES: The headquarter of Firnes. They visit once in a while. It's hidden in the real world and cannot be entered or exited unless the Syfirl permits.

~

Lust.

What amazes me is his attention to details. Oftentimes, I wonder if he'll be so intricate when fucking me-if he had the chance.

He's sat on the leafy ground twenty feet away from me, leaning against a thick tree.

His demeanor is relaxed, judging from how he drew a knee to his chest while leaving the other stretched out on the ground, both pulled apart to let his hands rest between them. I believe they're grazing his crotch.

I lift an exhausted paper scroll to my face. On it is a drawing carefully illustrated with charcoal.

Nineteen hours ago, I met Azalea. And he's already made a portrait of me.

Bringing the paper down, I stare at him and wonder whether even now I'm living rent free in his mind.

"Ha, you wish!" Loka hisses from behind me. The bastard-ass thinks her hour glass figure automatically makes her shine among other females.

She's quite the joker.

"Don't pretend like I don't know what you're thinking," she continues despite the fact that I'm ignoring her. "Your eyes tell. Even the poor guy would think you're falling in love with him."

I raise a brow, looking over my shoulders at Loka, rolling up the paper and tossing it to her.

Then I pick up the heavy shackles before standing up to approach Azalea.

The guy looks at me as I near him. He has a smoking frown on his face that could possibly torch the world if I were to create a spark.

As I reach where he's sitting, my shadow casts on him, shading him from the sun, while he looks at me with narrowed eyes; eyes that have seen more evil than the word itself.

Evils created by the very hands he used to sketch my image.

"Get up," I tell him.

He looks away, huffs a smile. Then-sluggishly-he obeys. "You do realize who I am, right?" he asks, almost chuckling.

"Your hands," I mumble instead, hearing Loka guffawing from my previous spot.

Her laugh alone answers Azalea's question, seeing how my last two words noted that I give no shit about the man's who and what.

More confirmations when he stretches his hands to me, and I push the shackles' cuffs around his wrists.

My prisoner-that's all he is; who he'll ever be from this moment onward.

"What exactly are you called; bane or hell?" Azalea says again.

That as well would have been ignored if Loka didn't chip in. "She's Socculus."

For fuck's sake.

Azalea huffs. "That a name?"

"Yeah... I think." Loka strolls away on that note, while I carefully make sure that the chain between Azalea's cuffs are tight enough to let me drag him through the woods if he triggers my temper.

I grab his arm and shove him to my front. "Move."

The chain is what connects us, wrapped around my wrist, clinking as the motherfucker walks.

He chuckles before mumbling, "Socculus, as in... Soccu... lus...t." Another silence. "Hm. How interesting." I'm still eager to maintain the silence. "Lust is better. The other's a mouthful."

"Your tongue would fare better rolled behind your teeth," I snap against my will.

Azalea chuckles again-that angers me the most. "My tongue would fare better tasting your ravishing sparks of deviltry. And it still won't roll behind my teeth. It never will."

I pass him a glare as I walk past him, pulling him with the chain harshly that he stumbles.

To the Firnes, Azalea is an offender. A grievous one.

He's a formidable witch who rules a powerful, autocratic society of witches that calls themselves The Silver Coven.

They terrorized all creatures in their vicinity, especially humans, until their victims' pleas reached our ears.

The Syfirl sent my horde to their aid. But the war sparked at a wrong time-summer season-when Firnes prefer to cuddle under icy pools instead of treading roads to battle.

We prefer to fight in winter, which is why we captured Azalea instead with the hope that his influence in the world decreases with time.

Except, Loka and I now have to put more effort at hiding while transferring the offender to Amperes, as his loyalist are still as fervent as they are outrageous and extremely brutal. And we're in no mood for a bloody clash.

All we have to do is follow the Forest of Oaks that leads directly to Gar Valley. Then we'll journey through the Creeping Tunnels of Eyesrall that is underneath the Gallant Peaks. From there, we'll make it to a waterfall, where lies the portal to Amperes.

If opening the portal at random places weren't forbidden for security reasons, it would have been easier to transport the criminal.

Now, avoiding the city and places with any trace of human would be the best option so as not to come in contact with Azalea's supporters.

"Do you really think this... darkness can hold my people from coming for me?" the man asks, and I catch Loka hanging upside-down from an oak branch.

The Forest of Oaks is known for its utter darkness. What exactly would invite light in a place shaded by a canopy of large oak branches?

And more so, why would anyone think we'd go through this dangerous path?

Only, we're Firnes, and we fear nothing.

Azalea catches up to walk side by side with me, looking at me. For some reason, that makes me feel small due to his gigantic form.

His broad shoulders would totally obstruct my view if I stood directly behind him.

As his stare persists, he huffs. "It'll be relieving if you can say more that one word at a time." I ignore him. He chuckles. "You know it's hot when you glare at me side-eyed, even if it's just for a moment."

I hold back the smile that nearly shows up on my face. Weird. I rarely smile.

Now it makes me wonder-why the hell am I flushed? I shouldn't be. Not for any anyone. Not for any man. And certainly not for Azalea.

He's my prisoner for god's fucking sake.