The dying embers of the sun painted the sky in hues of orange and purple as it dipped below the horizon. Leviathan sprawled languidly on a plush bed, his eyes fixed on a woman before him. Her movements were a captivating display of sensuality, her scant attire leaving little to the imagination.
The peaceful scene was shattered by a jarring creak as the door swung open with a force that suggested anything but a polite entrance. Standing on the threshold, indignation etched on his face, was Rayden.
Leviathan barely spared him a glance as he let out a sardonic chuckle. "Well, Rayden," he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement, "to what delightful surprise do I owe this unexpected visit?"
Rayden grimaced, his eyes flickering towards the scantily clad woman who, upon Leviathan's greeting, had discreetly vanished behind a silk screen. "This… burlesque," he stammered, his voice laced with disapproval, "is hardly the point, my Lord. What... What happened to His Majesty? "
A slow smile spread across Leviathan's face, devoid of warmth. " Apparently, his beloved slave decided a dagger was the most appropriate accessory to adorn his chest."
Rayden pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture that spoke volumes of his current disposition. "There's more, my Lord," he grumbled, his voice laced with annoyance. "Lord Azrael sent a message. Apparently, he caught sight of some… shadowy creatures lurking around a tavern in a nearby town."
Leviathan's sigh was laced with a hint of weariness. "Shadowy creatures, you say? I wonder what brings these… creatures to our doorstep."
Rayden shrugged, his frustration evident. "Who knows? Lord Azrael doesn't elaborate much. "
He shot a pointed glance towards the woman, who made a faint sound of tinkling laughter. "Perhaps you could… expedite your… business, my Lord? The sooner we investigate this Lord Azrael's report, the better."
Leviathan, unfazed by the thinly veiled impatience, gestured towards the woman. She emerged gracefully, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Patience, Rayden," he drawled, his voice smooth as velvet. "Even shadows require a little… entertainment before facing the darkness, wouldn't you agree?"
As the woman approached, a playful smile dancing on her lips, Leviathan's hand shot out, a blur of surprising speed. He snagged her wrist, pulling her close with a force that sent a gasp escaping her lips. Rayden, ever the observer, rolled his eyes theatrically at the display, though a hint of unease flickered in his gaze.
The woman's giggle died in her throat as Leviathan yanked her down onto the plush couch beside him. Her playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a mixture of apprehension and a strange, almost primal awareness.
Leviathan leaned in close, his voice dropping to a low murmur that sent shivers down her spine. It wasn't a request, it was a compulsion, a command wrapped in honeyed tones. "It won't hurt a bit, alright? "
His face, usually handsome and composed, contorted slightly as his canines elongated into sharp fangs. With a swift movement, he sank them into the soft flesh of her wrist. A crimson bloom stained the pale skin, but the woman remained silent. Not a whimper, not a flinch escaped her lips. Her eyes, however, held a mixture of pain and a strange, unwavering loyalty.
Rayden clicked his tongue impatiently. "Honestly, Lord Leviathan," he drawled, "this little… farewell could have been a tad less dramatic. We have shadows to chase, remember?"
Leviathan retracted his fangs, the wound on the woman's wrist already closing, leaving behind no mark. He released her wrist, his gaze cold and emotionless. "Patience, Rayden," he said, his voice devoid of warmth. "There's a difference between entertainment and… reinforcement."
" Return to your brothel," Leviathan instructed, his voice low and persuasive. "Forget what transpired here this evening. All you need to remember is that you tended to a client, nothing more."
The woman, seemingly entranced by his words, stood up in a daze. Her eyes, once bright with mischief, now held a blank, unquestioning obedience. She moved towards the door, her steps mechanical, as if guided by an unseen force.
Rayden watched her leave, a slight shift in his posture betraying a flicker of unease. "Compulsion," he muttered, more to himself than to Leviathan. "Always a fascinating trick. Makes one wonder what secrets you hide behind those pretty words."
Leviathan shrugged, a noncommittal gesture. "Perhaps," he said cryptically, "one day I'll compel you to take a walk off the highest cliff in the kingdom. See how well your vaunted 'specialness' holds up then."
A shudder passed through Rayden's frame at the thought. Despite his bravado, the idea of being rendered helpless under Leviathan's control sent a chill down his spine. He puffed out his chest, a touch defensively. "Compulsion doesn't work on me, Leviathan. You know that. I'm… different."
There was a hint of pride in his voice, a boastful claim that hung heavy in the air. Leviathan, however, remained unfazed. He knew the truth, a truth that gnawed at him like a persistent itch. Compulsion, apparently , was strangely ineffective against Rayden, despite him being human. Why? It was a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.
But for now, the mystery was secondary. They had a town to visit, shadows to investigate. He could deal with Rayden's irritating presence later.
Leviathan leaned back in his chair, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Different, perhaps not," he conceded, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "But certainly… privileged."
Rayden puffed out his chest further, preening under the implied compliment. "Exactly!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with self-importance. "The King recognizes my… unique talents. That's why I get away with things others wouldn't dare."
Leviathan's lips curled into a humorless smile. There was more to it than just "unique talents," he knew. His mind drifted to a certain green-eyed woman, a woman who had defied the compulsion in a way that both intrigued and frustrated him. Aurelia.
He clicked his tongue, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. "Apparently," he drawled, "you're not the only one with a certain… resistance."
Rayden's frown deepened. "What do you mean?" he demanded, his curiosity piqued.
Leviathan shrugged nonchalantly, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "The King's little… pet," he said, his voice dripping with disdain, "seems to be immune to my persuasion as well. Tried to compel her to forget that little incident with the dagger, wouldn't you know it? Just stared at me with those big, green eyes, completely bewildered."
Rayden's frown morphed into a scowl. "How? How is that possible? Compulsion is supposed to be…"
He trailed off, the frustration evident in his voice. Compulsion was a powerful tool, a tool that Leviathan wielded with deadly efficiency. For it to fail, especially on a mere human… it defied logic.
Leviathan rose from his chair, his movements predatory. "That," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "is a question for another time."
Leviathan's steps echoed on the polished marble floor as he strode towards Rayden. Stopping just a hair's breadth away, he leaned in, his voice a low growl. "Don't mistake my current tolerance for weakness, Rayden," he said, his eyes glinting with a dangerous light. "Compulsion may not work on you, but there are other ways to ensure silence. Snapping your neck wouldn't require a single word, just a flicker of my will."
Rayden, despite his bravado, couldn't help but shudder under Leviathan's icy stare. The casual threat hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the power imbalance between them.
With a curt nod, Leviathan turned and strode towards the door, leaving Rayden speechless in his wake. As the heavy oak door slammed shut behind him, Rayden finally found his voice, a shaky whisper escaping his lips. "Arrogant bastard," he muttered, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow.
He straightened his clothes, trying to regain his composure. Despite the lingering fear, a spark of defiance flickered in his eyes. He wouldn't be cowed by Leviathan's threats. He had his own secrets, his own agendas, and he wouldn't let a power-hungry demon lord intimidate him.
Taking a deep breath, Rayden squared his shoulders and headed out the door. The shadows beckoned, and he, like Leviathan, had a game to play. A game where loyalty was a pawn sacrificed on the altar of ambition, and the truth remained as elusive as a phantom in the night.