He grinned, the glint of the diamond chisel catching the dim light as he pressed it ever so gently against the base of your horn, the tip cold against your skin. His gaze remained locked on yours, unwavering, as if he were studying you, measuring your resolve.

The smile that tugged at his lips was anything but friendly.

“Your horns, though…” He trailed off, eyes flicking to them with something that bordered on admiration. “They’d make a nice addition to my collection. But I’m not entirely sure you’d survive the process.”

He chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine, before pressing the chisel down just a fraction more, enough to make you tense. “Just in case you needed a little push to help you decide…”

He grinned again, that same dangerous smile, as he pulled the chisel away, his fingers still resting on your horn, his grip a little too tight. “Or you could just let me have you, sweet thing. Pretty little thing like you could be just what I need to keep around… though I think you’d need a little cleaning up first. I’m not keen on a scruffy little imp as my wife.”

He smirked, eyes gleaming with dark intent.