He knew she’d come this way. He knew all too well that she would not do as she was told. Bad little girl, that one. She was a hussy. He liked hussies.

And she liked dangerous men with a penchant for power.

The scent of her reeked the trees as she moved through here, the boy and another in her wake. Quite possibly spouting out his name and cursing him to the Devil. He was the Devil.

And she liked it.

He had called for them in Pangea. She had not come. Cheeky thing. He had waited there, while the randy bitches and horny cocks ran around chasing tail and filling those slippery holes. And still she did not come.

And so he did what he promised he would do. He set off to find her.

He had gone off, called in the direction of love and lust—he followed his blood, and that meant he followed his cock. He groaned with the scent that his little angel reeked of. Anything to be away from her, to get a sense of his own sanity once again. For she was the first in a long line of things he’d known… that could do the one thing he had never done before.

She made him laugh.

That ugly black thing in his chest that pulsed every time he was near her… he laughed at her insanity. Her fanatical delusions of grandeur. She believed herself to be of the light.

And he would have so much fun dragging her into the broom closet. Into the dark, where she belonged.

With him.

But, business took him elsewhere—plans that had literally been washed away from him when his home, if you could call it that—wasteland that it was—was washed away from them all. Plans that he had made, webs that he had woven. All was washed away. Dragged away by the dirty fingers of fate. He would start fresh, and he would start with her.

All he had to do was follow her fanaticism.

And surely, his little femme fatale had gone to the one place where she was sure to be accepted by other femme-bots like her… The Amazons.

No, not them any longer… The Nerinians. He cursed under his breath. Gods. He should have been so unlucky.

But find her he eventually did, rubbing that fine, fat ass against a tree trunk as her winter coat was falling out. You know what you do to me, you little tease.

Deimos was an evil sort but he does not enjoy the feeling of a dead or bleeding body underneath him. He likes to feel them squirm. He gets off knowing they do too. He would leave the maiming for others. This little nun was not so innocent.

She wore a hot pink thong underneath her habit of innocence.

He purrs, approaching her slowly, his tongue thickening—like other parts of him—for the intoxicating smell of her. He is quiet, magic covering his shadow and dampening the sound of his step. His whispers are hot and heavy as he lays thick his drug…He would have her.

You called? You know, Raeg’n, You are so fucking hot when you’re angry.

But outloud, he merely sides up against her, running his hips along hers, drawing her into his heat. He had to get her out of here before she could be introduced to the crazy locals.

Feminists…Fuck.

He smiles at her darkly, his red eyes rolling over her body as he speaks. “’Fraid I can’t take credit for this one, sexpot. Those fucking fairies…Their little joke on your dearly departed daddy has finally cast that wasteland into the sea where it belongs. The wolfpup will probably survive, but the others… I would not count on it.”

And just like that, a bomb went off inside his head.

What the fuck was he even doing here?

Babysitting a delusional woman who was intent to destroy him, for his own amusement. What was wrong with him? Had he gone and lost his head?

Apparently he had.

Before Pangea had fallen, his need to taste the flesh of another Magician—one magician in particular—had been on his list. One needed to fully regain his power. His control. By driving her husband insane and taking all she loved away from her—suffering she was, and he found he liked that—he had thought to continue to take on the forests… using the wolfpup. The black wolf had a fondness for him.

But with the passing of time and this annoying woman at his feet begging him not to harm the boy… he’d gone soft… and now, there was no home, and what he had wanted had happened, even if he had not had had a direct hand in it. She would continue on, and so would he. There was no need to continue.

He found he was bored.

So tortuously bored.

So bored that he actually yawned in Raeg’n’s face, turning angry eyes to her before he stepped back from her, narrowing his eyes just a bit, before sending the ground beneath her to sinking around her feet. The pit… let her get out of it as she wished.

He no longer cared.

And so he apparates out in a whisp of black smoke, the echoes of his words haunting her mind.

“Find him if you think he still exists, you stupid waste, but I will not bother with you any longer. Your life is inconsequential. Know that I speak the truth. Your mother is dead, and your father is Hell itself. And that if you ever cross my path again, I will see to it that even your blood cannot save you.”