The monastery sat on a hill. Once holy, now it was a pce where rich and powerful creatures paid to use a woman held below. Warlocks, vampires, and werewolves visited often. They said she was beautiful. They said she was obedient. To them, she was not a person.

  To me, she was something else.

  She did not call for help. I heard only silence. A silence I knew too well. It meant something had been taken so many times there was nothing left to scream.

  I entered barefoot. My robe brushed the stone floor. I passed the guards I paid so I could enter.

  I walked through the halls. They were filled with wine, smoke, ughter, and whispers. No one stopped me. They stared, confused, curious.

  Down into the lower chambers.

  There she was.

  She y on a bare mattress. Her body was uncovered. Bangles clung to her arms and ankles. Her hair spread out around her. Her eyes were open, but she didn't move.

  I walked over and knelt beside her. I removed my robe and covered her.

  "Do you want to be free?" I asked.

  A pause.

  Then a nod.

  I stood and left her door.

  I closed the gate to the monastery behind me. No one else would leave.They saw me return. Some mocked. Some smiled. One noble lifted his gss and asked if I was lost.

  I punched his face and broke it.

  The vampire next to him tried to speak. I grabbed his head and crushed it against the wall.

  Two warlocks raised their hands. I kicked one in the throat. I tore the arms off the other and beat him with them.

  A werewolf lunged. I grabbed him and smmed him into a pilr. The others attacked. I dropped them with clean strikes to the neck and chest.

  A noblewoman begged. I shattered her skull with her cup.

  A vampire tried to vanish in the mist. I walked through it and broke his spine when he reformed.

  They used magic. They used cws. They used steel.

  It didn't matter.

  They could not hurt me.

  I had no enchantments. I had no tricks.

  I was faster. I was stronger. I was angry.

  They all died.

  I walked back to her.

  She was watching me now.

  I knelt again.

  "You're safe."

  She opened her mouth.

  "...Velika," she said.

  I nodded. "May I heal you?"

  She hesitated.

  "No magic," I said. "Just calm."

  She nodded.

  I touched her head gently and leaned in until our foreheads touched. My hands stayed still. I breathed slowly. She followed. I stayed quiet. I waited. Her breathing became steady. Her body rexed.

  Then she opened her eyes.

  "Would you like to know what real pleasure is?" I asked.

  She nodded.

  Our eyes met.

  Desire's Gaze

  She stood facing away from me, hands braced on the edge of a low table. Her back was straight, but her breathing was already heavy. I stepped up behind her, one hand on her hip, the other resting at the center of her back.

  I guided myself into her slowly. She gasped. Her fingers gripped the wood tighter. Her spine curved as I filled her.

  She adjusted her stance, spreading her legs a little wider and tilting her hips. She began to move—rolling back into me with slow, deliberate pressure. Her movements were confident. She was in control.Each time she pushed back, I met her with a steady thrust. Her moans deepened. She looked over her shoulder at me, hair falling across her face. I held her gaze.

  She picked up the pace. Her hips spped into mine with rhythmic force. Her body rocked with every motion. She was loud now—not out of pain or fear, but because she wanted to be heard.

  She reached one hand down between her legs, touching herself while she worked her hips. Her thighs shook. Her voice cracked.

  "Don’t stop," she said.

  She pushed harder, grinding back with urgency. Her legs buckled as her orgasm hit. She cried out, colpsing forward slightly, hands still braced. I caught her around the waist and held her steady.

  She was breathless, her skin flushed, and her body twitching with the aftershocks.

  I didn’t move. I just held her.

  The vision ended.

  She trembled.

  I leaned close.

  "Would you like to feel what you saw?"

  She nodded.

  That was all I needed.

  I stood and helped her rise slowly. She leaned into me without hesitation. I turned her around and guided her gently to the edge of the nearby table. She pced her hands down without being told. Her legs shifted slightly apart, her stance already matching what she had seen.

  I stepped behind her, pced my hands on her hips, and leaned in. My body pressed against hers, warm and steady. She looked back over her shoulder, her eyes focused and calm.

  I entered her slowly.

  She gasped sharply. Her fingers tightened on the table. Her legs adjusted instinctively, widening further. Her breath came quick, and she exhaled with a shaky moan as I sank in fully.

  She rolled her hips, mimicking what she had seen. I let her take the lead, my hands resting lightly on her waist. She set the pace—slow, grounded, determined. Every time she moved, she pressed back with more weight, more heat.

  The wet sound of our bodies meeting grew louder. Her moans were open, unrestrained. Her voice cracked when she spoke again.

  "It’s mine," she said under her breath. "This is mine."

  I said nothing. I didn’t need to.

  She shifted her feet again for more bance and thrust back harder. Her body was moving fast now. She bent lower, gripping the table's far side, and ground into me at her rhythm. Every moan she made was loud, drawn out, and desperate.

  I moved with her, adjusting only to keep us steady. Her hair clung to her back with sweat. Her thighs trembled, then tightened.

  She cried out, long and sharp, as her orgasm ripped through her. Her body seized, her legs nearly giving out.

  I held her steady as she buckled. She twitched in my hands. Her breathing came in broken gasps.

  She stayed bent over the table, shaking.

  I slid out of her slowly, stepped forward, and wrapped my arms around her from behind. She didn’t flinch. She leaned into the contact.I pulled her upright. Her legs struggled to hold her, so I lifted her easily into my arms. She didn’t speak. She buried her face against my chest, still catching her breath.

  We stood there, both of us covered in sweat, in silence.

  She had made every choice.

  And she knew it.

  She was not a victim in that moment.

  She was free.