I moved. I was in front of her in a heartbeat. I reached out, my hands gripping her wrists. gently but firmly, I pulled her arms away from her body.
"Do not hide, Julienne. The Goddess created desire just as She created the wheat."
I stepped into her space. I could feel the heat radiating off her. She was terrified, yes. But beneath the fear, she was starving. Starving for touch, for validation, for someone to take the burden of command away from her.
I leaned down and captured her lips.
"Mmph!"
She stiffened, her whole body going rigid. Her hands balled into fists against my chest. She tried to push me away, a reflex of her upbringing.
Reject the sin.
But I didn't pull back. I kissed her deeper, my tongue forcing her lips apart, tasting the salt of her tears. I pushed a pulse of mana into her mouth—warm, golden, intoxicating.
Her resistance melted like wax in a fire. Her knees knocked together. A moan vibrated in her throat.
Slither.
From the shadows of my robe, they emerged.
Two slender, black tentacles uncoiled from my back. They moved with a liquid intelligence, unseen in the dim light but impossible not to feel.
One tentacle slid up the back of her leg. It was cold, smooth, and alien. It traced the line of her stocking, slipped under the garter, and caressed the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.
"Ah!"
She broke the kiss, gasping for air, her head thrown back. Her eyes fluttered, half-lidded and hazy.
"What... what is..."
"Hush," I whispered against the column of her neck, biting gently on her pulse point. "Do not question the method."
The tentacle wound around her thigh, squeezing. Then it moved higher. It brushed against the crotch of her panties.
She was soaking wet. The black lace was already dark with her fluids.
Squelch.
"You are ready," I murmured.
Another tentacle slithered between our bodies. It coiled around her left breast, kneading the soft flesh, pushing the nipple up.
Flick. Rub.
"Priest-sama..." she moaned, her hands gripping my shoulders now, not to push me away, but to hold on. "It feels... strange... inside me..."
"It is the blessing," I lied.
I walked her backward. Her legs hit the edge of the bed. She collapsed onto the mattress, sprawling out, the black lace framing her pale body like a picture.
I loomed over her. My tentacles flared out, a halo of darkness.
"Open," I commanded.
"Yes..." she breathed. She spread her legs.
I moved the tentacle to her entrance. I was going to strip her of her dignity. I was going to ruin her for her husband.
Plip.
The tip of the tentacle pressed against her clitoris.
"AHH!" She arched her back, pleasure shooting through her. "Yes! Save me! Fill me!"
I prepared to enter her.
Suddenly—
Julienne froze.
Her eyes snapped wide open. The haze of lust vanished instantly, replaced by absolute, primal horror.
"NO!"
She screamed it. She scrambled backward, crab-walking up the bed, kicking out at me. She grabbed the sheet, pulling it up to her chin, her chest heaving.
"Stop! Get away!"
I paused, my tentacles retracting slightly. "Julienne?" I saw my restrain has expired and the black aura became stronger
She wasn't looking at me. She was staring past me. Toward the heavy velvet curtains covering the window.
"He sees!" she shrieked, her voice shrill. "He is watching! The God of War... I heard him! I heard his voice!"
She clutched her head.
"He called me a whore! He said I am basking in pleasure while my husband suffers! I can't... I can't do this!"
The atmosphere in the room shattered. The erotic charge was gone, replaced by the cold, metallic taste of fear. She was hyperventilating, completely broken by a phantom voice. Before I could reach her "I am sorry!" she sobbed, scrambling off the other side of the bed. She gathered her torn white gown, clutching it to her chest. "I must pray... I must cleanse myself..."
She didn't wait. She bolted for the door, threw it open, and fled into the hallway, leaving a trail of jasmine and shame in her wake.
I stood there alone. My erection was painful. My tentacles twitched with frustration.
"A voice?" I muttered.
I turned slowly toward the window. The curtains were drawn. There was no gap.
But I felt it now. Faint. Lingering. Like the smell of ozone after a lightning strike.
I walked to the window and threw the latch.
Bang.
I pushed the shutters open. The night air rushed in. The garden below was empty.
But there, on the stone sill of the second-story window...
Scratches.
Deep, gouged marks in the stone. As if something with iron claws had been gripping the ledge, anchoring itself to watch.
"Not a god," I whispered, my eyes narrowing. "A spy."
Thump.
A heavy sound from the hallway.
I spun around.
Pearl stumbled into the room.
She wasn't moving with her usual grace. She was limping. Her hand was pressed tight against her left side, and dark, viscous blood was leaking between her fingers.
"Master..." she wheezed, her face turning a sickly gray.
I crossed the room in a blur. I caught her just as her knees gave out, lifting her into my arms. She felt light, fragile—a broken doll in leather.
"Who?" I demanded, carrying her to the bed—the same bed that still smelled heavily of Julienne's arousal.
"A Construct..." Pearl gasped, wincing as I laid her down. "Of the God of War."
I frowned, my eyes narrowing in disbelief. "Impossible. A Construct requires a tether. A soul to burn as fuel. I have tasted the essence of every woman in this Villa—Rose, Kara, Sofia... even Julienne just moments ago. None of them can conceive or sustain a summoning of that magnitude."
I ripped her leather armor open.
RIIIIP.
The sound of tearing leather was harsh in the quiet room.
Beneath the armor, her skin was torn open. Three deep, parallel gashes scored her ribs. The wounds weren't bleeding normally; the edges were cauterized, burned black, sealing the trauma with heat. The smell of seared flesh mixed with the lingering scent of jasmine and sex.
"It wasn't the women..." Pearl gritted out, her hands clutching the sheets. "It's the Monks... on the outskirts of the village. I've been monitoring them since Rose mentioned the orphanage."
She coughed, a speck of blood hitting her chin.
"It's not just a sanctuary that is being controlled, Master. It's a barracks. A monastery for the God of War... where 'Children of War' are being trained."
"Child soldiers," I muttered, the pieces clicking into place. "Fanatics."
"I saw him..." she whispered, her eyes wide with the memory. "Peeking through the curtains. Watching the Lady. He wasn't just spying; he was projecting an aura. His intent... it amplified her guilt. He used her own faith as a weapon against your influence."
"He broke the trance," I realized, anger simmering in my chest. "He acted as an external conscience."
"I intercepted him," Pearl continued, her voice trembling. "I struck from the shadows. A kill shot to the neck. But... Master, he didn't even flinch. He didn't bleed. He endured it as if my dagger was a toothpick."
I summoned a green vial from my inventory.
Pop.
"Drink," I ordered, holding it to her lips.
She swallowed, coughing. I poured the rest onto the wound.
Hiss.
Steam rose from her flesh as the magic knit the skin back together. Pearl arched her back, biting her lip to keep from screaming.
I placed my hand over the scar, pushing my own mana into her to soothe the nerves. My touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the rough, predatory way I had handled Julienne moments ago.
"He moved like a machine," Pearl murmured, looking up at me with fearful eyes. "When I hit him... it felt like striking iron. And his eyes... they were dead. No fear. No anger. Just... a mission."
"A Construct," I mused, wiping a streak of blood from her cheek. "Born from a woman follower of a War God. That explains the scratching on the sill."
Pearl grabbed my wrist. Her grip was weak.
"Master," she asked softly. "The Lady fled. The spy escaped. Did we... did we fail this village?"
I looked down at her. Then I looked at the dark window where the observer had been. My shadow stretched out across the floor, writhing, growing longer and darker until it swallowed the light of the candle.
My eyes began to glow a deep, abyssal violet in the dark.
I didn't answer.
I just smiled. And in the silence of the room, the smile was more terrifying than any threat.