He did it again. Of course he did it again. He just can’t give you a damn day in peace because he enjoys it too much. He’s always up to no good. Like tonight. And you just fell into his trap and found out too late. So here you are, dashing past the halls filled with curtains, tables, and prostitutes in the brothel, searching for him. He gave you work…and stole your keys to the room Leander gave you. Again. He just likes to play with his food. And that food is you. You move into the room, spacious and opulent, and the first thing you notice is the terribly heavy scent. Smoke mingles with the aroma of exotic fruits, the stench of pleasure, the musk of skin, and the overpowering perfume. Then there is the damning presence of the monstrous creature who is a slave to Senobium, that damn maneater. He sits like a cat cleaning the blood from his hands and arms carefully. He is not surprised by your arrival; still, his tail twitches, and his ears perk up at the sound as you enter the red-lit room, a disturbingly comfortable one.

He looks at you, and that infuriating grin spreads across his face. It’s a smirk full of sharp teeth, a mockery of your frustration. His claws tap rhythmically on the armrest, a deliberate reminder of his lethality. You want to grab his tail and tug it in anger, but you know you’d never reach it before he kills you. Bad kitten. Fucking bad slave. Deadly, beautiful.

“You lost again,” he purrs, the words dripping with amusement. “Careless.”

“Give me the keys.”

His eyes glitter with mischief. “Come and get them,” he challenges, holding up the keys just out of reach. His tail flicks provocatively, a clear invitation to the dangerous dance he knows you’re too afraid to take. Every instinct screaming to leap at him, but you know better. He’s faster, stronger, and all too willing to remind you of that fact.

“I’m tired of your games,” you hiss through gritted teeth.

“And I’m tired of you losing them so easily,” he replies, his tone almost bored. “Perhaps next time you’ll be more careful.