Hi, Small-san here. Thanks for all the feedback and comment guys. I appreciate :)

Some gore warning, proceed at your own risk.

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Chapter 8: Elves For Dinner Succubus For Dessert

Seeing an overview of his domain made Chris think it was modeled after a fort. Buildings after buildings were built inside four fortified walls and farming fields stretched out beyond the first wall. The dark skies were patrolled by skull wyverns - or nightmares as Nastassja called them - and winged skeleton knights.

Following the road connected to the first gate, Chris reached their destination after almost two hours in flight. Felicia descended, pushing the air aside with her wings, on top of what seemed like a soldier’s barracks.

“So, that’s the Tree of Life?” asked Chris as he gazed at something humongous way ahead of them. Protruding out of the forest was one giant tree that pierced the skies and half of its trunk was hidden in a thick mist which covered the entirety of the forest.

“Yes, the land of the Elves, Titania, was also built around it,” Nastassja explained, gazing at the same view as Chris.

Now he understood why these two lands had been on a stalemate for so long. Leave the forest, and the Elves were immediately crippled for their lack of magic. On the other hand, enter the forest, and the Demons would find it hard to navigate their way in and out of that thick mist, making them easy targets.

Chris frowned, thinking about the state of things. As they stood now, it seemed like there wasn’t a right choice available to him yet.

Chris jumped down the wyvern then caught Nastassja on his arms. Turning around, a man of about six feet, wearing a black regency suit with long spiky silver hair, stood on attention, his fist on his left breast.

“Please forgive my tardiness, my lord. We did not expect this visit tonight.” His words were controlled, which told Chris how frightened he was.

“That’s fine. What’s the state of our visitors?” asked Chris after setting Nastassja down. No matter how many times he heard it from his wife, he still wasn’t used on being referred to as a lord.

“Apologies, my lord, but…” He lowered his head, unable to continue, and Chris understood what he meant immediately - the feast had begun.

What the fuck? His stomach hurled in disgust after seeing their nonchalance about it. Overwhelmed by this sudden churning sensation, he turned, covering his mouth as he heaved, not wanting to vomit. But he forced himself to swallow a huge one then turned back. This, he mused, wasn’t the right place to show his weakness.

Chris glared at the man, and he shrank some more, beads of sweat trailing down his brow.

“Chris…” Nastassja softly brushed the hair on her shoulder aside. “It was I who gave them permission. If you would, please punish me instead—”

Chris raised a hand as he interrupted her speech. “Dammit, Nastassja, that’s not the point here. How many are still alive?” he questioned the silver haired man.

“Six, my lord,” answered the man. “Shall we secure their hearts, or would you rather feast on them alive?”

Nastassja smiled wickedly. “The latter sounds like a well crafted idea, Chris.” She tugged on his arm and pulled. “Let us go, my lord. I can hardly wait.”

His thoughts were in shambles, losing the strength to resist Nastassja as she dragged him inside the building. They moved down the corridor and discovered a series of doorways. Continuing down a long staircase, his scrambled thoughts returned to pieces after smelling something foul - an overwhelming stench of death.

He felt like vomiting again, but showed no deeper reaction this time. A chorus of clanking resounded, banging against metal bars. Chris looked to see the entire corridor filled with cells, a prisoner sticking his arms out and his head on the bars.

“Aaah… No!” wailed the prisoner, his finely sculpted features were wrench in terror.

Chris noticed the man’s pointed ears, and he recognized him as an elf in his mind. Some sort of monster loomed behind the elf, twisting his neck and dragging him deeper back inside the cell. Blood splattered on the wall, silencing the elf’s scream that followed.

“Fuck…” An angry mutter escaped Chris’s lips. “Lead me to these Elves.”

With that command, the silver haired man ushered him in front of a large cell. Chunks of what seemed to be internal organs littered the floor and the world constricted to that tiny focal point on his sneakers - which was covered in blood. Seeing that widened his eyes further. Chris abandoned the thought of following the crimson trail and looked at the live prisoners instead.

At that moment, Chris felt terrible. Four Elven girls were quaking in terror as he stood there and watched, wondering to themselves if it was their turn coming. They hugged their bodies, as if clasping a gem away from a greedy merchant. To his surprise, however, one them snapped and spat on his face.

Before Chris could even gather his thoughts to respond, he heard heavy footsteps; there came a clanking of keys and the Elven girl who disgraced him was dragged outside. Her arms were yanked behind her back, yet the fire in her emerald eyes hadn’t died.

“Eat me,” she said to Chris, smiling, as she showcased her long legs. “Hurry it up, Demon. Or would you rather have me in bed first?” she snarled.

He didn’t like her words, but he knew it was her circumstances that brought it, so Chris merely sighed. “Clean this place up and give these girls some fresh clothes. I want to have a word with them tomorrow.”

“Yes, my lord.” The man was quick to respond.

If these Elves knew they’d get caught from the beginning, then what were they gambling for? There must be something, he pondered, something that was worth risking their lives here, which he needed to find out.

Stolen novel; please report.

However as of the moment, Chris wanted nothing but a good rest. He’d seen too much in a single night. This world was indeed different, he remembered, a world fundamentally different from where he came from. He had no right to judge them, as he didn’t know what he would do if he was born a Demon, but he considered this brutality crossing the line.

Chris turned to Nastassja, who had her arms crossed because of his decision, and said, “Nastassja, I’m not feeling good at the moment. Is there a room I could use to sleep on?”

Nastassja sighed and began to stride away, disappointment was clear on her face. From her words before they left the castle, he knew how intrigued she was to add an Elf to her palate, but he couldn’t satisfy that request. Not now.

Chris followed upstairs, clutching his stomach. He, no doubt, would have nightmares tonight.

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She didn't know why he acted like he did but whatever it was, his lost expression delighted her; her lips curved into a sweet smile. Still, she couldn’t understand his reasoning on why he showed mercy toward the Elves. They trespassed on their territory, spat and snarled at his face, and even belittled him.

Perhaps his real intention was to give those girls false hope? Nastassja shook her head. The expression he gave them were too gentle for that - too gentle for a Demon lord to have.

Like usual, before she realized it, her thoughts were drawn into over thinking. A veil of mystery surrounded him; he was unlike any demon she ever came across. His reaction to drinking blood was weird, he didn’t weakened under the sun, and either he was just foolish or downright cruel, she would know the answer soon.

Nastassja ushered him to one of the reserved rooms in the fort, and Chris entered, going straight to bed.

“How fast can you regenerate, Chris?” she murmured without knowing. Though she regretted not having a taste of those elves, the urge to eat his husband replaced that discontent. Desire formed in the pit of her stomach. How fast could he replenish a lost limb? Being a Demon lord, it was probably instantaneous.

Chris paused at the act of removing a shoe, wide eyed and mouth agape. He had already stripped his shirt and his sword was leaned on the side table. A full minute passed and he still hadn’t shaken out of his bewilderment.

Her putrid hatred toward him was set aside and Nastassja plopped on his lap, wanting to devour him.

“How fast, Chris? Answer me.” She clutched on his shoulders and squeezed. Like she heard his unspoken thoughts, the hot rod straining from his trousers suddenly nudged her thighs. She bit on her raspberry lip, as she looked into his dark eyes, searching for answers. He smelled delicious and his chest was beautifully made. All for her - she wanted him. Badly.

“Nastassja, tonight’s kind of bad time for me,” Chris said, looking away.

A dangerous glint sharpened her eyes. “You don’t believe that was enough to make me go away, do you?”

She smiled with diabolical amusement. She reached for his neck and sank her fingernails on his skin. Chris showed a pained reaction but was ruthlessly ignored.

“Nastassja,” he murmured, his breath scorching her lips.

With burned cheeks, she breathed back. The time to lead this man had come, but their roles reversed on his next actions. He moved his hands to the side of her breasts, under her armpits, and fondled them so delicately. He cupped them slowly over her dress and gave her a gentle squeeze.

A small delicious moan slipped out. “You are a dangerous man, Chris. I am supposed to hate you, yet…”

“Trust me.” Chris reached a hand, brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Nastassja, I’m not asking you to trust me overnight, but you need to give me a chance. I want to help you. Just so you know, you and I are in this mess together, whether we like it or not.”

“Why do you insist on having my trust, Chris? It has nothing to do with you. I want you and your father dead. Simple as that.”

“Because I see myself in you.” The same soft glow had settled on the corner of his eyes, melting her insides to submission. “Our circumstances are different, yes, but I lost the most important person in my life too. And no matter what I do, she won’t return. I learned that the hard way, Nastassja.”

“So, what are you implying?” she asked with an edge in her tone.

“Give up and move on.” Chris moved both hands on her face, brushing her cheeks softly. “Let me take care of you.”

“Nonsense.” She turned her face away.

“Look at me, Nastassja. I’m here - the family that you’ve always needed. Wanted. Even if the whole world would cast us away, as long as I exist in this world, I'll always be on your side.” Tears she didn't foresaw trickled down her face. She stared at her reflection in his eyes as she listened to his words that were ragged with emotions. Words that she wanted to hear all this time came from a stranger.

“Trust me,” he continued in a low and gentle voice, “and I will show you that you would have no more need for tears.”

Those words were her undoing. Nastassja began to cry in earnest, wracking sobs that caused her ribs to ache. Chris pressed her face on his bare chest. Could she trust his words? Her head said no, but a tiny fraction of her heart was willing to try.

“My chest hurts, Chris,” she gasped. “It hurts.”

“I know. I’ll listen to everything.” Chris kissed the top of her head. He held her, patting her back until her sniffles ended. Time passed and she did nothing but enjoy his warmth while savoring the dripping blood on his neck. Chris trembled before he passed out, and Nastassja snuggled to him with a satisfied smile. For that short moment that they were asleep, she felt soothed and healed.

However what greeted that happiness the next morning was a crisis that would change their lives.