Cyra strolled deeper into the forest, her destination clear ahead. The dead leaves rustled beneath her feet, blending with the distant cries of owls and the steady chirp of crickets.
The cool air brushed against her skin as her thoughts drifted to the fighters.
She couldn't teach them systemic combat techniques or let Zane teach them either, so the best possible outco was to throw them into desolate land to fend for themselves.
'That place still exists, but I don't know if the monsters are still alive or not.' She thought, as she planned to visit that place again with Zane.
A warm smile curled on her lips as glimpses of her past with Zane flashed through her mind.
She deliberately shoved those painful mories into the far corners of her mind, locking them away.
Nothing was going to taint the mories of her life there with Zane.
Cyra reached the entrance of the cave, going deeper, the crystal water glowed, casting shimring light against the dark cave walls.
Cyra took in the sight of the crystal liquid that never seed to run dry. She squatted and dipped her fingers into the smooth, heavy liquid—a burst of subtle energy floated through her body, making a soft sigh escape her.
She retrieved three empty glasses from her space and filled them up with the crystal liquid. The glass emitted a white shimr as the liquid sloshed inside.
Filling up the containers, she rose to her feet and walked back to the mansion; along the way,, she purchased a bigger aircraft that could take everyone.
And was quickly notified that the aircraft would be sent to her the next day.
She purchased dical pills, dical capsules and other relevant things they would need while staying in the desolate land.
Done with her purchase, she typed out a string of ssages and sent it to everyone on the island.
[This ssage is for the fighters only: Pack light. We're heading out for training tomorrow. Be prepared.]
This ssage bead through their bracelets, those who were still awake stopped what they were doing to pack—curious about where their mysterious boss was taking them.
Cyra turned off her bracelet and was about to sprint to the Mansion when she heard a loud plop in the stream ahead.
She changed her mind and moved towards the sound. Viktor laid on his back, his tail fluttering the water as he admired the full moons in the sky—he needed a change of place and needed to feel the nature around him to relax.
A snap of twigs caught his attention, and he quickly subrged in the water. Only his head was visible, and he turned to the direction of the sound, and he relaxed when he saw who it was.
His eyes lit up, and a smile blood on his lips as he rose slightly from the water. Her breath caught at the beautiful sight before her.
Beads of water clung to his milky-toned skin like clear pearls, while the curls and tips of his hair moved with a life of their own, syncing perfectly with the graceful sway of his silver tail.
Viktor's body heated up by her heated gaze on him—his pink lips parted and he swallowed unconsciously as she drew closer.
Cyra squatted, bringing her face so close that Viktor could feel her warm breath ghosting over his skin.
He tensed, his spine-tingling with electric anticipation as her fingers traced a slow path down his back, disappearing into the water.
''Mm…'' A moan escaped his lips as her finger glided down his spine; he leaned into her, giving her enough chance to go lower.
Cyra's eyes darkened, her gaze shifting from appreciation to raw desire as her fingers traced the curve of his tailbone, where his tail began to form.
Viktor reacted intensely and was about to flop powerless into the water when she held him by the waist, the edge of her clothes soaking but she didn't mind.
''Your tail is beautiful,'' she whispered in his ears, her breath brushing against his earlobe making him shiver into her hold, his heart thudding faster in his chest.
Cyra's gaze traced the pulse in his veins, and her fangs ached to sink into his pale, delicate neck.
Viktor floated in euphoria when he noticed Cyra's undisguised desire for him—his hands had a mind of his own as they hooked around her neck.
He grew brave when he didn't receive any rejection of his actions, making him grow bolder.
Cyra stiffened at Viktor's light kiss against her nape.
"Don't." Cyra's short words were filled with deep warning for sothing more if he continued.
Viktor paused for a second, gazing into her dark eyes. He licked the corner of her lips and whispered in a husky tone.
"Mistress, I want you."
Cyra's gaze was sharper; she held his chin, bringing his face close. "Boy, this is your last chance to change your mind. If I claim you, you are mine and there's no escaping."
She warned, her grip on his chin tightened; and Viktor moaned inwardly at the delicious pain of her grip.
"I want you to own … brand , make yours," Viktor whispered, his eyes gleaming with madness and fierce devotion.
The air around them crackled with untad desire. Cyra leaned in, claiming his lips with a fierce hunger, her kiss stealing the breath from his lungs.
Viktor lted against her, surrendering control as her tongue tangled with his, teasing and nipping at his lower lip.
When he was almost lightheaded she released his lips—Viktor sucked in the air greedily, his lips slightly swollen at her rough handling.
"I need to prepare so things for your first ti," Cyra spoke reluctantly as she ceased her actions.
She noticed he derived pleasure from pain—aning their sex life would be anything but plain.
She needed to establish boundaries and gather the right tools to test his pain tolerance.
When she noticed he was about to speak, she pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him before a word escaped.
"There's no rush. Now." Cyra brought up the marriage certificate. And she clicked on the second column.
"Will you marry ?" Cyra asked in a serious tone, giving him another chance to choose before he beca irrevocably hers.
Viktor was silent as he stared at the column requesting his thumbprint with a stunned heart.
He thought she might take him as a lover—not expect her to want him as a husband, granting him such a permanent and elevated status at her side.
Wealthy won typically dated their lovers for years before deeming them worthy of marriage, or they might offer them the lowest status as a love mate.
Only the lower class rushed to fill out this column, but Cyra wasn't so poor that she couldn't afford the marriage tax.
"Are you sure?" Viktor asked, his gaze searching hers.
"Once I press my thumb to this column, you won't be able to divorce —unless you kill ." He sensed she might be making a mistake by offering him this contract, unsure whether she truly intended to make him her second husband.
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