Chapter 7

In the darkness, the ring shivered, shaken to its very core. The sudden pressure when the girl had appeared left it reeling. Yet Aiden had offered her no reaction, his walls slapping into place even as the heel’s sharp snap and her yelp had echoed. So fast. So forceful. Such complete isolation.

Also, justified. Just like it, he had recognized the threat. An existential one. They were coming ... again. Whereas the ring had staggered, trying to regain some semblance of power, the man had moved, taking action. Or rather, had not done so. Instead, he’d acted as if everything were fine, despite all the markers telling him their reality had just become anything but fine.

Aiden was different. Larial had made him. Of course, it had suspected some kind of otherworldly influence, but that other presence? The divine beauty in white leather, Felicity. How? Why? Fallen, yet still to some extent true to her roots. To draw love from a being such as Larial and then have him share it with ... If the ring were capable of sighing, it would’ve emitted a lengthy one as the claws it also didn’t possess finally relented, retracting from its cage’s steel-hard floor. In the shadows, the barest glimmer appeared, illuminating the edges of its harsh etchings.

No matter the past, the future had resolved. More brazen than before, they were coming.

The struggle it feared.

It had indeed begun.

The late afternoon sunshine blazed across Leah’s apartment and, with Cam’s bulky form filling an armchair, also gleamed on the man’s skull amid thinning hair. Placed by her, while bending to show off the curves at least he appreciated, his dark blue suit jacket lay over the back of a couch. After handing him a drink, she’d loosened his tie, then guided him to the seat. All the well-practiced rituals, embodying the perfect sexy host. Pulse thundering, the woman, also embodying the echoes of a twisted and shattered past, clutched every one of those routines.

The day had been horrendous, with both disappointment in herself and fear battling for supremacy. Once back from encountering the utter void that was Aiden, she’d torn off the stupid fucking dress. Sure, its soft wool had clung to her, but he’d hardly paused on the tiny tits and too-slender hips. Legs—skinny; stockings and pumps could do only so much.

“Wrong choice, idiot,” had left her as a shaky mumble.

Both the body and the outfit were poor decisions.

After scrubbing off the makeup and ripping her hair apart, she’d flopped onto her spine and flung her limbs wide in the center of the mattress. With her chest shaking and those useless micro tits wobbling, wail after wail had erupted from her trembling lips. As tears had streamed down her cheeks, pleas for forgiveness had filled the silence, only to be followed by more crying when no answer arrived.

Thus, when Cam had called, asking if he might visit, a surge of happiness had blasted through her. At some things, she simply couldn’t fail. Besides, if she played her cards right, at least a shadow of the punishment to come might suffice.

While walking towards the seated man, a smile widened on Leah’s visage, and she ran both hands along her flanks. No crop. Instead, a slender tank of bright pink, decorated with broad red swirls, clung to her above a pleated micro-skirt, also of pink. Hair once more swung in twisted pigtails. She’d guessed correctly; his grin had brightened as soon as he’d spotted them. New this time, white stockings and glossy pink pumps adorned her legs. Both the bubble-gum lipstick and heavier makeup made their reappearance.

After a slow pirouette on the toes of the shoes, she leaned at the waist. His breathing staggered. A trickle of sweat glimmered in the sunlight as it slithered down the side of his reddened face. When she gathered the tiny boobs in both hands, his eyes widened.

“Mmm, daddy,” she murmured. “You like?”

“Uh, y-yes,” he murmured. Ice clinked as the glass in his pudgy fingers shook.

While leaning further to tap his shaking lips with hers, she took the tumbler from him and placed it on a table beside the chair. As she stared into his ever-wider eyes, her other hand raked sharp pink nails along the tightness in his slacks.