Isabella's breath hitched, her hips grinding down hard against my clothed erection as she raised a glowing, purple-tipped finger. I could feel the demonic magic pulsing off her, the insidious heat of a slave crest ready to brand my soul.
"Yes, Arthur," she panted, her voice dripping with hypnotic venom. "Be a good boy and submit to—"
"Host, if she rubs her wet cunt on you any harder, she's going to ruin your pants," Sol's deadpan voice suddenly echoed through the room. "And she's trying to brand your soul. Figure I should mention that."
Isabella froze. The purple runes hovering near my neck instantly shattered.
She snapped her head around, her crimson eyes wide with shock as Sol materialized in the corner of the room, looking utterly bored.
"Who the fuck—?!" Isabella gasped, the sultry professor act instantly dropping. She looked down at me, her eyes meeting mine.
The hazy, mindless stare I had been faking was gone. I smirked, my eyes sharp and fully lucid.
