Right now, I'm sitting opposite old man Duke, my finger tapping unconsciously on the table.
"So... you mean we're going to see Zella, right now?" I ask, my voice tinged with impatience.
"Yes, but hold on. Let me tell you something first," old man Duke interrupts, his voice attempting to calm the blood rushing through me.
"First of all, we're not going there to start anything crazy. Our goal is simple; meet the witch and come to an agreement. Don't even think about picking a fight. You're not the only one blessed with crazy talent," old man Duke warns, his voice stern. Beads of sweat gather at the corner of his face.
I've never seen him this scared before. What could terrify him so much? A witch? Really? Pfft. If he weren't my grandfather, I'd probably knock some sense into him. But I can't do that to my dear old grandpa.
I'm the protoss—a being chosen by the universe to maintain balance, uphold order, and serve as a bane to every powerful force out there. Fighting is in my blood, but I'll play along with old man Duke for now. Deals aren't really my thing as they reek of weakness. That's why Uncle Sid's dead, why we're stuck on Earth, and why I lost my dad.
"I can't wait to meet Zella... and my child. I've been longing to see her, to ask her questions, and to apologize for not trusting her. But she could've just told me the truth. Instead, she made me say those awful things to her," I bellow, slamming my hand on the table. My teeth sink into my lip, regret tightening my chest.
The guilt gnaws at me . I've never felt this way before—not even after what happened between me and Zella was still fresh. But first, I need to see her.
"When are we leaving?"
"Hmmm..." old man Duke mutters, glancing at the clock on the wall.
"Soon. But first, I need a bath," he says, picking up the phone on his desk and dialing a number.
"Get me some nice, big-tit girls," he orders, then hangs up.
I stare at him, stunned. "We have something important to do, and you're ordering girls?"
"I'm glad you've learned. No one's perfect, but we women take it to heart when we spend so much time cooking for someone we care about, only to have them ignore it. Make sure you apologize to the others if you've done this to them too," Zagrath says, her voice calm but firm.
"I really need to apologize to Jill," I mutter with a sigh.
"She'll forgive you," Zagrath replies, her cheeks flushing. "Honestly, I was already thinking I'd never cook for you again if you didn't eat my food today."
"Mmm, sounds like someone was mad at me," I tease, pulling back with a small grin. "No wonder Jill has been avoiding cooking lately. Anyway, let's eat."
I sit down, grabbing my cutlery with profound etiquette. Just as I'm about to dip my spoon into the bowl of pheasant soup, Zagrath stops me.
"Ahem. That soup has gone cold, and the bread is stale from being left out. Let me serve you a fresh plate, husband," Zagrath says, taking the food away.
Husband? She called me husband. That's new. Seems like she's starting to embrace the idea. Maybe it's time I stop keeping her as a mere concubine and make her my wife.
A few minutes later, Zagrath returns with a fresh plate of steaming pheasant soup and soft, fragrant bread. She places it in front of me, then sits across from me, her gaze fixed on me as I take my first bite—a vampire tradition I've come to understand.
I dip my spoon into the soup, lifting it to my lips. The flavor explodes in my mouth—rich, savory, and perfectly balanced. Before I know it, I'm tearing into the bread, dipping chunks into the soup like a possessed man. The vanilla undertones of the bread pair perfectly with the hearty soup, and within minutes, I've devoured the pheasant meat, slurped up every drop of soup, and slammed the bowl back onto the table.
A loud burp escapes my mouth, echoing through the room.
"Do you want more?" Zagrath asks, a different kind of smile lighting up her face.
For the umpteenth time, I realized how hot she is today. Her gown clings to her figure in all the right ways, and her beauty, despite our earlier sexual intercourse, ignites something primal in me.
Unable to resist, I get up and walk over to her. Leaning down, I kiss her deeply, my hands instinctively moving to unbutton her gown while giving her tit a hard squeeze. One by one, her clothes fall away, leaving her bare before me.
That moment, Zagrath and I share another round of intense, passionate sex. This time, I let myself go completely, ejaculating every semen I had left in my balls into her, leaving no room for doubt about how much I truly desired her.