I felt my stomach twist uncomfortably. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I figured out how you stole my special ability," she continued, watching my face with the attention of someone cataloging every micro-expression for later analysis. "That first time we fucked, remember? I put the pieces together."
My mouth had gone dry despite the ale. "I don’t—"
"Don’t bother denying it," she cut me off with a gesture. "You can steal abilities and power through sexual intercourse. That’s your thing, your unique gift as an incubus or maybe just as you specifically. You fuck someone and you take a piece of what makes them special, absorb their capabilities into yourself." She leaned closer, her grin widening into something predatory and delighted. "Which means this arrangement is absolutely perfect for the both of us."
I nodded with slight hesitation, already fearing where this was headed but unable to see a way to deflect or deny without making things worse. "Yes. That’s accurate. Though I’d appreciate you keeping that information to yourself because it’s the kind of secret that could get me killed if the wrong people learned about it."
Her face turned absolutely wicked then, delight and anticipation mixing with something darker and more intense. "Oh, I’m not telling anyone. Why would I? This is going to be fun." She raised her hand and snapped her fingers with sharp authority, calling out to Thorn who’d been polishing glasses while studiously trying not to eavesdrop. "Hey! We need a room upstairs. Your best one—this is a special occasion."
Thorn nodded without missing a beat, setting down his cloth and disappearing up a staircase I hadn’t noticed earlier. Grisha finished the last of her ale in one final massive swallow, then turned her attention back to me with an expression that made me want to simultaneously run away and lean closer at once.
"What’s wrong?" she asked, noting something in my body language that I hadn’t consciously controlled. "You look like you’re about to face execution."
I felt myself shrink slightly despite my best efforts to maintain composure, heat flooding my cheeks in a blush I absolutely couldn’t suppress.
"Just... maybe go easy on me this time? I’m still recovering from the last session and I’m not entirely sure my body’s ready for a repeat performance of that particular intensity."
Grisha’s face split into a reassuring smile—or at least what she probably thought was reassuring, though it still showed an alarming number of teeth and carried undertones of predatory intent.
"No promises," she said cheerfully. "But I’ll try not to break anything important."
Moments later Thorn reappeared and gestured for us to follow, leading us up the stairs and down a hallway that somehow felt cleaner and more maintained than the chaos below.
He stopped at a door near the end, unlocked it with a key from the collection hanging at his belt, and pushed it open with a flourish that might’ve been either ironic or genuine professionalism.
The room beyond made me stop and blink several times to process what I was seeing, because it bore absolutely no resemblance to the jungle-themed chaos of the tavern below.
The space was dominated by a massive fireplace that didn’t just crackle—it roared, flames leaping high and casting flickering orange and red light across walls constructed entirely of rough volcanic stone.
Not painted or decorated to look like rock, but actual stone—dark basalt and obsidian forming the entire perimeter, the surfaces rough and pitted with the characteristic texture of cooled lava flows. The heat was immediate and intense, washing over my skin in waves that made sweat begin forming almost instantly.
Volcanic rock formations jutted from the corners where these stone walls met ceiling, rough obsidian and pumice arranged with surprising artistry to create the impression of being inside an actual caldera.
Red-orange crystals were embedded throughout the rock face, catching the firelight and glowing like embers scattered through stone. They highlighted the natural striations and patterns depicting molten landscapes across the walls, the geological formations creating rivers and flows frozen in their mineral structure.
It was as though we’d emerged from the thick jungle atmosphere of the main tavern into the heart of an active volcano, a tonal shift so abrupt it felt almost disorienting. The overall effect was simultaneously impressive and deeply strange, like someone had tried to create apocalyptic ambiance in the worst possible location and somehow succeeded.
Thorn left us with another nod, closing the door behind him and leaving Grisha and me alone in the firelit space. The silence felt heavier here, the absence of the tavern’s chaos making every sound seem amplified—my breathing, her breathing, the crackling fire, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.
I began to undress with fingers that trembled slightly despite my attempts at steadiness, pulling off my dress and feeling immediately vulnerable under Grisha’s unwavering gaze.
She stood watching with her hands planted firmly on her hips in that characteristic stance of hers, her massive frame backlit by the firelight in ways that made her seem even larger and more imposing than usual.
Stripping in front of her felt like being examined by some force of nature that had temporarily taken interest in my existence, her eyes tracking every revealed inch of skin with focused attention that made me hyperaware of my own body’s inadequacies—my smaller frame, my relative fragility, the way I probably looked like a toy next to her substantial presence.
My boots came off next, then my gloves and lingerie, until finally I stood completely naked in front of her with nothing between us except air, anticipation, and the weight of what we were about to do.
The firelight painted my pale skin in warm tones that probably made me look less sickly than I felt, and I clutched the ruby in both hands like it might anchor me against the tide of nervousness threatening to sweep me away.
I extended one hand palm-up, the ruby resting in my flesh and catching firelight in its depths, and began to infuse it with chaos energy the way Willow had taught me.
The process felt familiar now after hours of practice—reaching into that well of power that lived somewhere in my core and transforming the energy there into the chaotic potential all demonic beings could access, channeling it through my palm into the gemstone’s crystalline structure.
The ruby responded immediately, beginning to glow with light that grew brighter with each passing second, pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat as the magic activated and prepared to reshape reality according to my will.
I whispered the activation phrase Willow had drilled into me, words in a language I didn’t understand but which resonated with power nonetheless, and that hellish crimson light erupted from my palm with the intensity of concentrated malice given physical form.
The illumination was so bright I had to squint against it, red radiance flooding the room and painting everything in shades of blood and fire.
Then the transformation began.
The energy shot from the ruby and struck Grisha’s crotch with visible impact, but instead of dispersing or spreading across her body, it spiraled upward from that point of contact in tendrils that twisted and braided together.
I watched with horrified fascination as those crimson strands wove themselves into increasingly complex patterns—coiling, merging, and splitting again as they constructed something new from pure magical potential and Grisha’s own flesh.
The cock formed with agonizing slowness. It started as a small protrusion, barely noticeable against the dark patch of hair between her thighs, but grew with startling speed as more energy fed into its construction.
The shaft thickened first, expanding outward until it matched the proportions I’d expect from someone Grisha’s size—which is to say absolutely massive, easily as thick as my forearm and continuing to grow longer with each passing second.
The skin was darker than her natural green, almost olive in tone, and it glistened with moisture that appeared from nowhere as though the magic itself was coating it in preparation for use.
Veins bulged along its length in patterns that pulsed visibly with her heartbeat, thick ropes of vascular tissue standing out in sharp relief and giving the entire structure an appearance of barely contained violence ready to be unleashed.
The head formed last, swelling into a broad crown that was several shades darker than the shaft, almost purple-green in the firelight, and as I watched a bead of clear pre-cum welled from the slit at its tip and began sliding down in a thick, viscous trail that caught the light.
The smell hit me then—overwhelming and impossible to ignore, a concentrated musk that filled the room with such intensity it felt like a physical presence pressing against my face.
It carried notes of sweat, sex, and something earthier, more primal, the kind of scent that bypassed conscious thought and went straight to the most ancient parts of the brain responsible for recognizing arousal and responding to pheromones.
My cock stiffened immediately in response, betraying my body’s reaction even as my mind tried to process the sheer magnitude of what I was looking at.
Grisha’s new cock continued leaking steadily, pre-cum flowing in continuous streams that dripped onto the carpet and created dark spots in the fibers, the whole thing twitching and pulsing with its own rhythm independent of her breathing or heartbeat—just constant, restless movement that spoke of desperate need and barely restrained urge to be buried in something warm and tight.
I let out a nervous giggle, the sound high and slightly hysterical, before moving to cover my nose with both hands in a futile attempt to block out that overpowering smell even though I knew it was pointless because the scent had already saturated the entire room and probably seeped into my clothes and skin where it would linger for hours.
Grisha looked down at herself with an expression of pure satisfaction, reaching down to wrap one massive hand around her new cock and give it an experimental stroke that made more pre-cum bubble from the tip.
"Perfect," she breathed. "Absolutely fucking perfect."
I swallowed hard, my throat dry despite the ale, and felt anticipation coiling in my stomach alongside nervousness, arousal, and the dawning realization that I’d just created a fucking monster.