She shivered suddenly, her naked
skin breaking out in goose pimples. It was if the temperature in the room had
just dropped a dozen degrees. She rubbed at the ache she felt in her breasts,
and tried to slow her suddenly racing heart. Vickie had to resist a sudden
compulsion to rub lower. Inwardly fuming, she did her best to squash her
feelings of the man. And then she made the connection, even as she noticed her
breath mist before her; the drop in temperature, the warming feeling in her
loins.
Daemon.
Too late,
she reached for the amulet that she never took off; before her hand connected
with the strange metal and stranger gem, something grabbed her wrist. A shock
of pleasure ran through her, filling her with a fire that peaked between her
legs. She gasped, and something turned her forcibly.
“The sssssorcerer
Lexxxxx” a voice whispered in her ear, and she felt her pulse quicken. She
struggled against the feelings, desperately, but her body was rebelling and
giving into the alien influence. Its voice was a horror, filled with sounds
like broken glass, awful and terrible; yet she found herself drawn to it. She
struggled against the grip on her wrist, weakly. Feebly.
“Let me
go,” she managed to whisper.
The
creature giggled. It opened its mouth, and Vickie could smell death wafting
out. Needle like fangs dripped yellowish salvia as the thing smiled at her. Its
face was a tall narrow oval, its features nearly human; the nose was too sharp,
the brow too high, the cheek bones too severe. Its skin was scaly and black as
tar, looking wet and reptilian. Its body was enveloped in cloak just as black,
shrouding the tall slim form that towered over her by nearly two feet. The hand
that gripped her like an iron cuff was cold and dry, the fingers ending in
talons that would eviscerate a man with little effort.
“Noooooo,”
it answered her plea. Its dark eyes flashed with something resembling humor.
“Neeeeever again.”
