CHAPTER SIX

<>~X~<>

MARK & CLAIM

<>~X~<>

‘Your life rests in my hands.’

<>~X~<>

Allen sat in stunned disbelief at the revelation he had just heard moments ago. His body seemed paralyzed, his heart raced as if doomsday was upon him, and his breath quivered, all while his gaze remained locked onto the intimidating scarlet eyes of Circe, who returned his gaze with a malevolent smirk.

The young boy's reaction both surprised and greatly amused the demon.

In a flash, before Circe could even bat an eye, Allen bolted from the room and descended the staircase, making a beeline for the front door. Unfortunately, his escape was met with an abrupt collision, jarring his body and head. Through the pain and the struggle to regain his composure, Allen stumbled over to the side table beside the main entrance to retrieve the keys from a ceramic bowl.

Upon inserting the key and hearing that distinctive click, signifying the door was now unlocked, Allen struggled to open it. No matter how hard he pulled at the handle, the door refused to budge, as if it had been jammed shut for countless years. In his mind, he screamed, "Why doesn't it open?! Why won't it open? Please, open! I beg you! Please, open!" His desperate thoughts echoed as he persisted in yanking at the handle, causing his clammy hands to slip and sending him sliding on the slippery floor.

As Allen's backside met the cold, white, wooden-tiled floor, a groan of pain escaped his lips. However, his groaning ceased abruptly when he felt a sharp pain in his right ankle. It was then that he noticed his glasses had vanished from the bridge of his nose. Panic set in as he began searching for them, his trembling fingers exploring every inch of the frigid floor around him.

Allen's eyesight was dreadfully poor, rendering everything in his field of vision a disorienting blur. Given his lack of glasses or corrective lenses, the prospect of accidentally smacking his face into a wall hardly seemed improbable.

As he fumbled around, his vision virtually useless, a close call with a grey, featureless wall near the front door nearly resulted in a painful collision.

But just as his head was on the brink of an unpleasant encounter with the wall, a brisk and icy palm intercepted, cushioning his forehead from the impending collision. Simultaneously, a second hand delicately slid his black-framed glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, allowing the world to come into sharp focus.

As Allen's vision cleared, his initial panic seemed to recede, but it soon became ensnared in a tangled web of emotions as his gaze settled upon a disturbingly familiar figure. His heart quickened its pace, a light sheen of sweat formed on his forehead, and his hands once again grew clammy. The trembling that had somewhat abated now intensified.

All of this was in response to the sight of Circe, who knelt before him, her malevolent smirk intact, though her eyes held a perplexing mixture of adoration. Allen's mind was a whirlwind, struggling to decipher whether the soul-devouring demon regarded him with tenderness or with a sinister hunger.

The answer eluded him.

With a trace of newfound courage, Allen gingerly retreated, creating a small but necessary gap between their bodies, his awareness suddenly heightened by the realization that their foreheads had been in such close proximity. A mischievous grin stretched across Circe's features as she elegantly flicked her lengthy hair behind her.

She inquired with an air of jest, "Aren't you going to express your gratitude? I did, after all, return your vision to you. Not to mention, I just spared your forehead from a painful collision with the wall that your back is currently pressed against."

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

In the grip of overpowering fear, Allen could merely manage a nod, his voice strangled in his throat. With a hesitant, stuttering response, he finally spoke, "Thanks for that." Despite the gravity of the situation, the raspberry-haired girl couldn't suppress an evil, almost chillingly gleeful, chuckle. For her, it seemed, every moment was ripe for a peculiar form of amusement—bloody amusement, to be exact.

Circe spoke with a sly grin, her words dripping with a sinister charm. "I must confess, you're quite the sprinter. Faster than my own thoughts, in fact. But you see, my dear, no matter how swiftly you move, you're bound to me for the entirety of your life. You can't deny the blood pact that ties us together, and remember this – you're prohibited from indulging in any carnal pleasures with others." She continued to wear her malevolent smirk, finding immense satisfaction in the mix of shock and anxiety she stirred within the young man, evident in his wide eyes and the frantic rhythm of his heart.

With a soft, trembling voice, Allen dared to question, "Why? I thought you would... leave." But his words were met with a haunting advance as Circe shifted to sit between his splayed legs. Her scarlet eyes gleamed with a malevolent darkness, sending an eerie chill down Allen's spine. Her gaze bore into his with a bone-chilling dominance as she declared, "My, my, my, my sweet darling. Your heart, soul, body, and mind... they all belong to me. You're mine, my dear boy. As long as this blood pact endures, your desires will be solely for me. Should you attempt to sever our connection... the agony that will wrack your body could very well lead to your death. Your life rests in my hands. I have the power to end it here and now and walk away unscathed, but I've set my sights on a different ambition – to keep you alive, to use you to my satisfaction. You are my precious prize."

As Circe's words trailed off, she slithered forward, her lascivious gaze paired with a malevolent smirk. She reached out and seized Allen's thigh, ensnaring it with her eerie black claws, eliciting a painful whimper and causing him to writhe in discomfort.

As his heart raced wildly and his breaths came irregularly, Allen grappled with the overwhelming proximity to the world's most perilous creature. Despite his introverted, self-recoiling from such closeness, he managed to voice the question that his curious side had been yearning to ask the ethereal yet ferocious demon. In a whispering voice, laden with a stutter, he inquired, "What's preventing y-you... from killing me?"

"Your... innocence," came her hushed reply.

As those words spilled from Circe's lips, the demon sank her fangs into his clavicle, simultaneously drawing blood from Allen's thigh, where her claws had punctured his flesh. In anguish, Allen let out a moan, his body trembling under the weight of a multitude of overwhelming emotions that defied clear identification. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes, and he squeezed them shut tightly.

Circe ceased her torment of the brunette's delicate clavicle, allowing him to catch his breath. She gazed at him with her lascivious eyes as Allen, with flushed cheeks and a clammy forehead, kept his eyes tightly shut, too fearful to open them. His body trembled with trepidation as Circe's lips and tongue traced a sensuous path down his neck, leaving behind a trail of kisses and moist caresses. Her descent halted at the juncture where the neck and shoulder met once more.

She continued to moisten and kiss that junction intermittently, and as Allen timidly opened his eyes, he stammered, "What are you... doing? And why are you doing this?" His broken question only seemed to amuse Circe further. With a final sensuous lick, she replied, "Preparing you."

Allen was utterly bewildered by her response and was about to ask for clarification when Circe advanced further. She seized his wrists, pinning them firmly above his head with a strength that made Allen struggle to break free. However, he quickly realized that the demon was far more powerful than he had ever imagined. Fear for his life gripped him, causing him to pant and tremble as his mind raced with horrifying possibilities.

The direness of his situation left him mentally preparing for the worst to come.

Allen stammered, "Preparing me for... for what?" He met Circe's gaze, his teary blue eyes searching for answers. She locked onto his gaze, responding with an ominous tone, "To claim you." Her head descended once more, and she exhaled onto the same tender junction as before. Circe patiently waited for Allen's frenzied heartbeat to subside slightly before sinking her sharp fangs into the delicate porcelain skin at the base of his clavicle.

Allen's anguish transformed into guttural moans and tears of torment, but soon he sensed an overpowering presence surging through his veins, rendering him strangely impervious to the pain. It compelled him to cease his fruitless resistance, leaving him bewildered and overwhelmed. The rapid succession of events had inundated his mind, shrouding his thoughts in an impenetrable haze.

In his clouded stupor, Allen remained unaware of the demon's actions. Not only did she siphon his life essence, but she also injected her own beguiling yet pernicious venom into him, an indelible mark of her possession.

Henceforth, Allen belonged to her, bound by a contract that not even death could sever, for while the contractor may perish, the demon endured.

Nevertheless, this tale of ownership held deeper, hidden layers yet to be unveiled.