Daniela stood in the vibrant, ethereal ballroom, a stark contrast to her three maids who hovered nearby, their faces etched with far more anxiety than her own. They just needed to endure this single dinner; then, she could finally be alone with Jasper.
From the moment she'd stepped back into the ballroom, Jasper's eyes had been a palpable presence, tracking her every movement. There hadn't been a single second where she hadn't felt his gaze pinned to her. One kiss, and he was already this utterly intrigued. She had expected more restraint from a demon, especially one whose power fed on lust. It was almost—disappointing.
"Princess Daniela, I don't believe we've met yet."
Daniela turned her attention from the distant, magnetic pull of Jasper to a beautiful princess with hair like spun silver and eyes of icy blue. The princess offered a vicious smile that didn't touch her eyes. Daniela was certain she was unfamiliar with anything that resembled a soft approach. Everything about the princess—her sharp jawline, her poised cheeks, and her graceful, swan-like neck—was angular and fixed. Her skin held a dewy complexion, a tell-tale sign of her ice powers.
Daniela could already feel the cold bite of winter emanating from the girl. Everything about her was frigid. Her light blue ball gown, a color similar to Daniela's own, was lined with ice. It didn't move or billow with every turn; it was stiff, rigid, unyielding.
"You know my name, what's yours?" Daniela asked, a smile spreading across her lips as she rose from her chair. Her sleek dress ** clung to her curves**. She couldn't decipher if the girl's look was one of envy or hostility; it seemed to carry both. Daniela knew her dress was no more revealing than what an average peasant might wear—she didn't waste money on layers of fabric that pushed a woman outwards, as if attempting to keep the world at a six-foot distance. In this room of voluminous, layered gowns, Daniela was a stark difference, and she leaned into it.
"Fox," the girl stated, tipping her head gently in a mild show of respect.
Daniela mirrored the gesture. "Now why would a little fox want to speak to me?" Her smile was provocative and probing. She took a step back, gesturing for Fox to follow her toward the dessert table. She had no intention of eating anything, but a perusal would keep them from being stuck in a secluded corner.
"You surprised me, Daniela! Quick to drop the honorifics. So against the grain," Fox said, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You are unique in so many facets. I wish to get to know you." Her words were biting, like the cold that nipped at Daniela's skin every time Fox drew too close to her.
"I don't understand why. I'm not someone anybody would want to align with. Definitely not someone as powerful as yourself," Daniela replied, shaking her head almost sadly. "I stand in awe of your power and grace, little fox."
In any other circumstances, Daniela would have worked harder on actually forging friendships. But she had already mostly secured her prize: Jasper. Every other woman in the room wanted the one to their left, right, and center dead. There was no point in building friendships or exchanging false platitudes. Daniela felt quite aligned with the other princesses—she wanted them all dead, too, whether they were after Jasper or not. They meant nothing and offered nothing to her greater ambition. They were pebbles on the path. So, she had decided to play with them, to see which ones she could turn against each other.
"You make it so hard to build a connection! Am I wrong for seeking your company, or guidance?" Fox's agitation grew with every second spent in Daniela's company. She was boastful, prideful, arrogant. It made no sense, yet, in the same breath, it did. She was the only one who had garnered the attention of most of the princes. Furthermore, she possessed some sort of personal connection with at least two of them. Even those not interested were still undeniably intrigued. The other princesses had noticed that a few Kings even seemed enamored by her. She was beautiful, but they had all been taught that beauty wasn't enough. Beauty without thorns and power meant nothing; beauty without frost was dust.
Across the ballroom, a small knot of princesses watched the exchange between Daniela and Fox, their hushed voices barely audible over the light music.
"She's so… brazen," Princess Theodora, with her dark, tightly-coiled hair, murmured to her companion. "How is it that she's only just arrived, and already the princes seem to circle her like flies?"
Princess Lyra, whose pale gown shimmered with an enchanted, nebula-like pattern, leaned in conspiratorially. "She claims to have the power of manipulation. Do you think it's true? That she can simply make them desire her?"
"I've never heard of an ability of pure manipulation," Theodora scoffed, subtly adjusting her pearl necklace. "We all have ways of influencing, certainly. But a raw, uncut power to twist their minds? Surely, that would be kept secret by her Kingdom."
Lyra's eyes flickered to Daniela, who was now leaning in close to Fox. "Perhaps that's exactly what she's doing. She's too confident, Theodora. Look at how Fox's breath has hitched—she's not even touched her properly! If she can do that to Fox, imagine what she can do to a man whose power is lust."
"Or," Princess Seraphina, who had been listening silently, finally interjected, her voice sharp with a mix of disdain and curiosity, "she truly is as innately charming as they claim. Maybe all the talk of a unique 'power' is merely a clever smokescreen for a personality that is simply irresistible to men."
"Guidance?" Daniela questioned, turning back towards Fox. She took a deliberate step closer, invading Fox's personal space. Even though her skin felt cold as ice, Daniela reached out and gently touched her cheek, lightly turning her face from left to right. She stepped in so close that she could smell the fluorescent fragrance of Fox's toothpaste.
"You are quite a beauty," Daniela murmured, her fingers running lightly down Fox's cheek, barely making contact. She gave Fox the same soft, predatory smile she gave all the princes, the one that drew them in deeper. She felt the way Fox's breath had stopped, literally halting in her throat as if she was holding it in anticipation of what Daniela would do next.
"Someone as beautiful as you," Daniela continued, her voice dropping to a seductive register, "You don't require any guidance. Enjoy the food!"
Pulling away, she turned and swept off with her maids in tow. The little show hadn't truly been for Fox. Just before pulling away, her eyes had flicked up to meet Jasper's across the room. His body was now rigid and tight. It was a fatal flaw for him to have told her that his powers were strongest through sex and intimacy. He hadn't even grasped what intimacy truly meant. This world didn't understand seduction, not like hers did.
Jasper felt the saliva in his mouth dry up as he watched Princess Daniela. He'd never seen a woman act so brazen. She was sexual in a way that defied sense. Nothing she had said was improper. She had barely even touched Fox's skin, yet Patrick felt as if he had just witnessed an act in the local brothel. Her words were a compliment any young lady would hear, but the way she had delivered them—the proximity, the light touch, the smile—it was all something else. He didn't have a word for it, didn't know what to call it, but it felt like sex.
He cleared his throat, a harsh sound, and fixed his posture, refocusing his sight on what he was allowed to see. Banging his staff four times against the polished floor, the sound cut through the murmurs. "Dinner is served. Princesses, take your chosen Prince on your arm. So we may all partake in dinner. Then you may leave at will for your promenade."
Daniela watched as the other princesses made their way towards their princes, but she didn't move towards any. Instead, she turned and began to follow Patrick. Without missing a beat, Jasper was quick to her side.
He didn't take her arm, and she didn't take his. They walked side by side, as if they had been in a coupling for a lifetime. They didn't need to touch or hold to know that he was hers and she was his. Turning her face, she looked up at him. She gave him a soft, fleeting smile before turning away, her eyes focused straight ahead.
Jasper felt as if he would burst. He was agitated, and his skin felt hot and freezing cold at the same time. The fine, black fabric of his tailored coat and trousers now felt rough and abrasive, an uncomfortable scratch against his sensitive skin—a sudden, acute case of overstimulation. Everything was too much, too close, too loud. He felt his power emanate off of him, a dark, volatile presence that warned of violence and death. Yet, she looked completely at peace walking next to him.
This intense, torturous feeling—the raging heat and the consuming cold—was a uniquely enjoyable torment. As a demon fueled by lust and intimacy, this agonizing push and pull, this near-constant presence of the object of his desire that he couldn't touch, was the ultimate sexual domination. It was a tight, agonizing energy that fed him and heightened his senses to a dangerous degree.
He wanted to rip off his skin, and it was her fault. The recollection of his fractured soul—the two clones he had sent off—had returned to him transformed. Whatever had happened between Daniela and his two copies was running rampant in his system. His vision felt tainted with a dark black hue. His usually hidden horns were starting to grow from his scalp, small knobs that promised to form into their larger, more terrible shape. Even his wings wanted to unfurl.
Beneath the suffocating cloth of his trousers, a hard, heavy erection pressed painfully against the seams, a constant, sharp reminder of the power she held over him. He could not touch her, yet every nerve ending was screaming for release. Everything about him felt tight, perched on a razor's edge. One minor touch, and he was certain he would implode.
He couldn't even understand what was going on. This was so unlike his normal calm and collected demeanor. But right now, he wanted to burst, he wanted blood, he wanted death, he wanted her. He wasn't sure in what capacity. He didn't know if he wanted Daniela's blood on his lips or her feminine juices. He didn't know if he wanted to split her open or fuck her dead. The rational part of his mind, the part still working, reminded him of his ultimate goal and purpose; he needed what was inside of her. But that darker part screamed that he could fuck it out of her body. That he could rip it from her chest while sucking on her breasts.
He continued to walk next to her. Because if anybody else did, he would kill them. But he couldn't touch her—not yet, not now. He needed to fuck and kill something. Preferably at the same time.