He hissed slightly, feeling the surrounding air increase in pressure. As quickly as it came, it dissipated. When he lowered his hand back into the water and looked forward, bright ruby orbs gazing into his eyes blocked his vision. He leaned his head back, his heart slamming against his rib cage to escape his chest.
She was close to him, her lips tilted upwards, her pearly teeth glittering with her grin, “I’m glad that we can agree on that.”
She pressed her face forwards, and he moved his face further back. His eyes shifted slightly downward, and her lips, plump and pursed slightly, replaced her smoldering gaze. His back tried to sink into the smooth pebbles and round stones that made up the bath wall. He pressed his lips into a tight line, teeth grinding before turning his face away from hers. Leaving her lips, millimeters away, in the cold.
Instead of tearing his hair out from his scalp, he felt those warm, wet lips press against his left cheek. That small action caught him off guard. He turned to face her, his eyes slowly narrowing in suspicion.
“I don’t want to fight anymore.” She whispered softly, her body close to his. Her right hand idly stroked the wet hair curled against his purple and red discolored neck, “I’m tired of having you in that cell. Away from me.” She nuzzled against his neck. He stayed still, a mixture of fury and fear preventing him from making a single movement. She continued, her voice flowing out like lava, thick and languid, “Now that you have proved your strength, I plan on rewarding you.”
The steam in the bath was thick, but Tristan could smell the hint of charcoal and ash coiling with the white smoke.
She chuckled softly, her gloved prosthetic covering her mouth softly as she snorted, “Normally you are the romantic. God, how fucking cheesy.” She didn’t mind that he remained silent, her eyes closing as she softly chortled, “It’s true. I want to spoil you.”
… I want to break you…
“Sp-Spoil me… huh?” He slowly relaxed, his eyes lidded, staring at his rippling, battered reflection, “What can you possibly do to ‘spoil’ me?” Venom laced his voice. He felt that pressure again, and he heard a slight growl of the monster hiding just underneath Ira’s skin. However, that pressure lifted, the weight replaced by her hips. She had moved her leg over his waist, her pelvis resting onto his lap. He groaned softly, thinking back, further back, before this nightmare began. Back when he was blissfully ignorant, utterly enamored with this passionate beast. When he lavished this same naked body with kisses, caresses, and hard thrusts.
His fingers curled into his palm, fully healed nails digging into his skin. The impulsive pain, the primal, instinctive Lust, made him grow hard against her. His eyes slowly met hers, looking up at her.
She gazed down at him with a knowing smile, her right hand caressing his cheek. Plump nether lips kissed the tip of his needy, traitorous cock, “Did I answer your question?”
He dislodged his fingers from his palm and gripped her waist, hard. He looked down, trying to see their hips locked together through the hazy fog. His knuckles trembled, and he wavered between shoving her away.
Or shoving her entirely on to him.
He gasped softly, his grip loosening, and he chose a third option, pushing himself away from the wall and pulling her close, his arms wrapping around her. He buried his head against her breasts.
Ira blinked, looking down at him, first tense and surprised, before smiling softly, kissing the top of his head, stroking his hair and neck, “I like this too.” She purred again, the sound vibrating against his cheek, “I’ll keep you close. I’ll give you everything. Just like I said, I would.” She cooed gently, the sound sultry and deep, “I’ll never let you go.”
Tristan’s shoulders shook, his lips buried between those voluptuous, possessive mounds. Her promises burrowed into his mind, burst forth from his memories.
“Tristan is under MY protection.”
“No one is to KILL Tristan.”
“I keep my promises.”
He released his shuddering breath, chuckling against her skin. His nails dug into her sides, and he lifted his head from her breasts. The chuckle did not match the sizzling lightning from his stare; the lights flickering around him as his laugh turned into a snarl.
Ira’s eyes widened a bit in surprise, and now she was the one leaning away. It was slight, but there was a tug on the leash she had been choking him with, “Tristan…”
He released a whistling hiss, keeping her trapped against him, “What if he killed me?”
Ira blinked, her thick, wild brows jumping up sharply, “What?”
“What if Eric killed me? What would your promise mean then?” His eyes were vicious, and his words measured, digging deep.
Ira scoffed, her brow narrowing downward, “Don’t be stupid. That would not happen.” Her hands moved down into the water, pressing against his arms.
He kept tight, righteous outrage giving strength to his courage, “Did you know that? Were you so sure? Tell me, Ira, what if I LOST? What if I was the fucking corpse down in that dungeon?! What would your promises mean?”
Her nostrils flared, and she bared her teeth, “I wouldn’t let that happen!”
“You wouldn’t? Really?!” He released a derisive laugh, his hands moving from her waist to grab her shoulders, “You left me there! Locked me in there! You had NO fucking idea what was going to happen!” His laugh devolved into forceful howls, “You TOLD him to KILL me, IRA!”
“I didn’t make him any promises! I made YOU that promise. That no one was going to KILL you!” The water got hotter, bubbles forming then bursting around Ira.
It was scalding, and Tristan whimpered at the agony. His body flushed greedily at the boiling torment while healing any burns that he should have suffered, “If you were so confident, then why did you look at me like that?” He was heaving, his breaths coming out violently.
“LIKE YOU WERE GUILTY!?”
She froze, stunned, “… I… knew you were going to survive. I knew you would be safe. I have nothing to feel guilty about.”
“You’re lying.” He pulled his hands away from her, “You didn’t know. He could’ve killed me.” He closed his eyes, trembling as his neck stung from the memory of that abomination choking him. “You left me there. All of your promises…” He slowly emphasized each of the following words, a growl in his throat as his disgust was out in the open, “Meant NOT. A. GOD. DAMN. THING!”
The water stopped bubbling. There was nothing but still silence. The bath was a clear glass surface. The lights flickered, and darkness surrounded them.
Then there was light.
Then back into darkness.
Then to the light.
Then his nostrils filled with smoke, hell blocking his vision as Ira had closed the distance he fought for. There was a deep rumbling in her throat and gone was the affection she was just showering him with. She stood up, looking down at him from above.
Her lips lifted upwards, her teeth bared.
Tristan tried to stand, to tower over her, but an immense, sizzling weight clamped down on his shoulders. He tilted his head upwards, using his own Wrath to pierce her with a charged glare, “Going to throw another tantrum?”
Her nostrils flared and her demonic snarl echoed through the spa, “My promises… mean nothing?”
Suffocating silence, pulsing with the flickering light.
“… Then why do I bother?”