[Chapter 257. A Necessary Transaction]

Searanox looked over to Kylith. A bright smile played on her lips, her amber eyes gleaming with anticipation in the violet-tinged corridor.

"Alright, change of plans. The six of you enjoy your meal and accommodations. We will talk on the morrow." His bare fingers combed through Iris's soft fur, tracing the curve of her neck down to her shoulder blades. "And you get to bed as well. I will join you when the little one is done feeding."

"Little one?" both women echoed—Kylith with a sneer, Iris with amusement dancing in her eyes.

"From what I see, you are the smallest among them," he answered Kylith without looking away from Iris. He stroked behind the wolf-girl's ear, feeling the subtle tremor of jealousy and territorial instinct running through her. Slowly, the tension in her shoulders released, and she pressed closer against him.

Kylith glided toward him, her movements fluid, the soft fabric of her attire whispering with each step. She stopped before them, her amber eyes glowing with a hunger that made the air itself seem to shimmer. "Alright, but you promised to feed me until I'm full," she said. Her fingers brushed his arm, her touch cool and deliberate, leaving a trail of sensation in its wake.

Searanox kissed Iris before scooping Kylith off the polished floor. Her slender body molded against his with ease, her arms wrapping around his neck, breath warming his throat. With slow, deliberate steps, he carried her into one of the vacant rooms. The door swung open silently, revealing simple, clean quarters beyond.

Meanwhile, Iris showed the six purebloods to their rooms, outlining the tower's rules. Her voice carried a detached authority; she was not merely a guide, but an enforcer of Searanox's will. The captives followed in silence, their bravado replaced by weary compliance. Kandora lingered behind, her fingers tightening around her sleeve as she watched the door to Kylith's room close.

Inside, Searanox carefully laid Kylith on the sheets. Her grip on him loosened reluctantly. The scent of lavender and something distinctly sweet clung to her skin. He removed his coat, folding the heavy fabric twice before it vanished into his storage ring. She lay there watching him with that same bright smile, her amber eyes glowing with a ravenous hunger.

Her clothing came off without hesitation. Each piece fell away, revealing skin that seemed almost too flawless to be real. He, on the other hand, took his time, unequipping his gear and storing it. The metallic clinks echoed in the silence, a contrast to her swift urgency.

Pinning her to the bed, he whispered softly against the delicate curve of her ear. "You will regret this, little one. I promised to feed you, but nowhere is it written that I have to be gentle about it." His voice was a low growl, a deliberate promise that sent shivers down her spine.

Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second before she pulled him closer, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "Yes, please. Take me like a common whore." Her voice was a breathless plea. The magical lights cast long shadows across them, painting their bodies in hues of indigo.

In the adjacent room, Iris's tall, wolf-like ears twitched, straining to catch the soft voices on the other side of the wall. It was no use. The tower's thick stone swallowed their words. Only the rhythmic cadences of their speech and occasional low murmurs reached her.

Each muffled sound rippled through her with possessive irritation. Her silver eyes narrowed, fighting the instinct to press her ear against the cold granite. Instead, she forced her attention back to the six towering figures crowded into the room before her.

The captives had insisted on eating together, clustering awkwardly in one of the modest rooms. Their large, red-skinned frames made the space feel impossibly small. Gron had to stoop to avoid hitting the ceiling, his shoulders brushing against Anax as he reached for food. The human-sized furniture looked like children's toys beneath them; two had already opted to stand rather than risk breaking the straining chairs.

Kandora scoffed, her aristocratic voice dripping with disdain as she swept her arm around the room. "You don't expect us to sleep in these small beds. This is unacceptable." She glared at the cramped quarters. The bed would barely accommodate half her height.

"This is what the Lord provides," Iris answered, her voice cool and detached despite her internal turmoil. "If you wish for something else, take it up with him." She gestured toward the table. Though small for the purebloods, it overflowed with an impressive spread: roasted cuts swimming in their own juices, perfectly charred steaks, and arrays of smoked and dried meats filling the room with a savory aroma. It was a feast, yet Kandora looked at it like another insult.

Then began the rhythmic creak of a bed frame and the muffled moans through the wall. Iris's claws unsheathed and retracted—a nervous tic she couldn't control. The logical part of her knew this was a transaction, a necessity to feed the prisoner and gain information.

But the wolf in her howled with primal rage at the scent of another female on her territory, on her Progenitor. Each muted cry from Kylith felt like a physical blow, making her muscles tense and her silver eyes burn with ferocious intensity.

Her enhanced hearing imagined detail—the soft sighs, the sharp gasps, the rustling of sheets speaking of an intimacy she had once shared alone with Searanox, now given to another.

The taste of bile rose in her throat as she remembered the possessive way the half-breed's arms had wrapped around him, resting against his armor as if she belonged there. Iris paced the room, her tail lashing behind her with restless energy. Her mind was a chaotic storm of jealousy. She paused before the narrow window, staring out at the violet-tinged darkness of Androxis, fighting her instincts to burst through the wall and reclaim what was hers.

"You're going to lose him to that filthy half-breed. She has a way to get what she wants," Kandora's voice cut through the muffled sounds. Tearing into her meal, her aristocratic features contorted into a cruel smile. She was clearly enjoying Iris's barely contained reaction.

Next to her, Anax and Quin tore into the food with savage desperation, consuming the meat as if it might vanish. Vindala, however, sat with a distant gaze, her slender fingers nervously fiddling with a silver family heirloom.

"Do you think he will ask for us as well?" Vindala's voice was barely above a whisper, yet it sliced through the room's tension, heavy with dread.

Anax and Kandora choked on their food, their faces flushing with horror as they coughed. Kandora slammed a hand against the table, making the plates jump, while her eyes widened with rage and fear. Quin just looked confused, pausing with a half-chewed piece of meat in his mouth as he processed the implication.

"I think our priority is to stay alive," Gron rumbled, setting down his meat. "We are at the mercy of a being who executed someone in cold blood right after promising an end to their suffering." He stared at the floor, the memory of their torturer playing behind his eyes—the sudden flashes of light, the casual ruthlessness. Their survival depended entirely on the whims of a monster.

The silver pendant in Vindala's fingers felt cold and heavy. "I don't want to be tortured again," she trembled, "but I... I can't bend down like her." Her gaze drifted toward the wall, the filtering sounds making her stomach twist. The thought of submitting in such a manner filled her with a nauseating mix of fear and indignation.

Iris snapped her head toward them, her silver fur bristling with territorial fury. "She is bound by contract to answer our Lord's questions, not to please him," she snarled, her low, dangerous voice making the imposing purebloods flinch back. "The sounds you hear are a necessary transaction. I will not have you disturb him." Her extended claws tapped against the stone floor in an impatient rhythm.

With that, she slammed the door shut, rattling its stone frame. The rhythmic creaking continued from the adjacent room—a fresh insult to her senses. She stood in the hallway, her claws digging shallow scratches into the door as the wolf in her demanded she burst inside. Finally, with a deep, unsteady breath, she forced herself to walk away.

Back inside, Ulrum gave Vindala a pitiful look. "If he asks for your body, you have to obey. You are bound by contract." The dark clarity of their reality settled over the room like a shroud. He set down his food, his heavy frame shrinking under the weight of his words. His eyes, usually filled with arrogance, now held only hollow resignation.

"Don't say that. I've never... I've never been with someone before," Vindala whispered. Her cheeks flushed a deep, stark crimson, a rare display of vulnerability that made even Anax avert her gaze in discomfort.

They ate in silence, burdened by thoughts of what could happen to them. The tearing of flesh and the scrape of cutlery sounded grotesquely intimate. Anax glared at the wall, grinding her teeth. Quin stopped eating entirely, staring into space with dawning horror. Even Kandora, who had earlier mocked Vindala's concerns, grew stiff and subdued. She chewed mechanically, her mind wandering down dark corridors where pureblood pride meant nothing.

A muffled plea through the wall tore them from their thoughts. It was faint but cut through the tension like glass.

"Please, no more... I-I said until I'm full."

The distorted words carried a raw desperation that made the food in their mouths taste like ash.

The soft moaning turned into whimpering and desperate sobbing. The rhythmic creaking grew frantic before suddenly falling silent—replaced by choked gasps of pain rather than pleasure. It was a sound none of them expected from the confident half-breed.

Gron pushed his plate away, his appetite gone. Vindala's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes glistening with terror and a twisted, guilty relief that it wasn't her.