"Impudent human, the arrogance of your species never ceases to astound me."

Illoren bared her teeth in disgust, scarlet eyes obscured by silvery spectacles.

There was no denying that the Drow's appearance—a long-limbed and slender frame clothed in black silk with a voluminous cloak trailing behind her—was striking, even breathtaking. The ornate suit of silver plate armor beneath Illoren's mantle only laced her ethereal beauty with an air of authority.

"Lady Illoren," my head was bowed, a mask of respect veiling animosity – how could she have let them die?

"I simply ask that we reallocate some of our profit and compensate the families of the fallen; it is only right."

The manticore we'd been hired to slay was dead, but the cost had been terrible; the rest of our party butchered by the beast. Despite the number of fallen, Illoren and I would receive the full sum of the contract; Illoren – ever insistent of her higher social standing as a minor noble – intended to take the lion's share of the bounty for herself.

"Be lucky that you draw breath, 'wizard', and that a single coin of 'my' reward sees your coffers. You and your rabble were hired to complete a job. Do not delude yourself as to educate me on what is 'right'."

Illoren's hoity-toity tone grated on my nerves, "How can you say that? Are you not a knight?"

With a flourish of her gossamer cloak, Illoren drew herself up to full height, just shy of my brow. "I am a lady of House Vaelor, which means I have no need of the childish games that your pathetic race enjoys." There was nary a drop of blood upon her silver panoply, the unsullied raiment a marker of Illoren's true cowardice.

My mind stirred with nascent plots, just revenge brewed with my own, darker appetites; I was not blind to Illoren's physical charm. If she would not pay what was owed in gold, compensation would be taken in another way.

The tent hummed with the undercurrent of magical energies, an enchantment forming at my lips. A simple cantrip, a slight alteration of the ambient air around us, and it was done.

"What was that," the candlelight of the tent caught on Illoren's glasses, "an illusion? A curse?" She snorted, "Your magic was barely of use against the manticore, human, now you–"

The insult melted into a quivering groan, the proud features of Illoren's self-assured expression softening; the noblewoman was awash with rage and yearning. "W-What have y-you done, sorcerer?" Even the question teetered on a ragged exaltation of pleasure.

"Quiet." I spoke softly, gently, as I moved closer to the trembling woman. "You speak too much ." My voice dropped to a whisper, "For you are mine..."

Saliva frothed at the corners of her once pursed lips, the veneer of regality crumbling away like sand beneath my touch. My fingers tentatively traced the edge of her contoured cheeks, relishing their softness.

"I a-am a lady of H-House Vaelor!" Such pride, such resistance. Every act of defiance would only sweeten her inevitable fall.

The cloying scent of her arousal wafted over me, a potent aphrodisiac, and I felt myself hardening in response. Her hands caressed my shoulders, massaging my muscles, her nails digging into my flesh. I took her wrists, forcing them back against the cushioned bed and pinning them there with one hand while kissing her neck.

She whimpered, a sound of longing, desire, surrender. I bit down lightly on her earlobe, causing her to squirm in delight, her body arching towards me.

"Y-You are a monster, a beast, a demon! Y-You must stop this, you cannot control yourself, please, please, don't make me..."

Her words trailed off into moans of ecstasy as I continued to ravish her. With my free hand I reached between us, finding the warm wetness of her sex.