Champion Of Lust: Gods Conquer's Harem Paradise!

"You dared to conspire against my family. Against him." Her voice trembled, not with rage but with clarity. "I saw what you would do, Dragomir. The ruin you would bring. To him. To all of us. And do you know the worst part?"

The blade whispered along his chest, shallow enough to make him flinch but not to cut. Not yet.

"You wouldn't have succeeded. You would have failed. And yet, in your failure, you would still take everything from him. And for what?" Her head tilted, studying him like something broken. Something...less.

"Jealousy?"

The blade bit.

This time, not gently.

The dagger sank deep into the flesh just above his collarbone. A precise, clean puncture—not enough to kill, not enough to maim—but enough to hurt.

Dragomir arched, a strangled scream forcing its way from his throat as the divine steel burned inside him.

"Is that what this was, Dragomir? Some pathetic envy for power you could never hope to reach? Or was it fear? Or Maybe just because you're following Drakos' orders?"

The blade twisted.

His scream tore the air.

But Alexa's face remained unflinching.

"I saw it all happen, I watched helplessly. What you planned for him. What you forced upon my family, upon those I love." The dagger withdrew, blood following its exit like a slow, deliberate caress of red against pale skin. But her eyes never left his.

"And you dare think you deserve mercy? After what you would have done?"

Dragomir's head lolled, pain too intense for words. His lips moved, a faint plea forming beneath the haze of torment.

"Pl...please..."

A whisper.

A crack in his composure.

But Alexa leaned closer, voice barely more than a breath.

"Beg louder." The gauntlet shifted. Golden light condensed along her fingertips, sharpening into claw-like extensions. She raked them down his side—slowly—tearing through skin and muscle with deliberate cruelty.

The wet sound was sickening.

Dragomir howled.

And she made him listen to his own agony.

"Did you beg?" Alexa hissed, lips at his ear. "When you plotted to ruin him? Did you hesitate when you watched his everything burn? Or when you helped divine assassins come for me?" The claws retracted, leaving shredded flesh in their wake. Blood gushed freely now, dark and vivid against his pale, sweat-soaked skin.

"You will not die yet," she whispered, almost comforting. "I won't let you. Not until you've felt a fraction of the pain you've caused. Not until you understand what it means to cross me." Her voice dropped further, colder.

"To cross us."

Then came the next wave of torment.

The gauntlet flexed, the thorns retracting—only to be replaced by hooks. Hooks designed not to pierce, but to catch.@@novelbin@@

With calculated precision, she punched—the hooks sinking into his abdomen, tearing as they retracted, leaving shredded strips of skin. Dragomir's screams echoed so loudly they seemed to shake the entire structure. Your journey continues at My Virtual Library Empire

But Alexa's eyes remained golden. Unfeeling.

And still, it was not enough.

"You will beg for more than death before I am finished with you."

Blood seeped from Dragomir's wounds, dripping in steady rhythm onto the cold floor beneath him. The stench of iron mingled with sweat and agony, the only sound his ragged breathing punctuated by occasional weak groans.

Alexa stood over him, her expression calm yet unspeakably cold. The golden gauntlet had retracted, but the faint glow around her fingertips suggested the torment had only paused, not ended.

Her lips curved into a cruel, perfect smile.

She hadn't even gone all out yet.

Dragomir—so proud, so self-assured—was nothing but a ragged mess pinned to the wall like a forgotten specimen. And yet, she hadn't broken him completely. Not yet.

This man was nothing more than a pawn, an extension of Drakos' will. A tool sharpened by the Dragon Emperor's command, carrying out orders without hesitation. But that didn't absolve him.

Not after what she had seen.

The visions had been seared into her mind—the devastation, the betrayal, the ruin. Dragomir and Silas, tools of destruction in Drakos' hands, had nearly torn everything from her man but that wasn't all—the divine assassins... They had wrecked everything thanks for the help of these two.

And for what?

A pitiful attempt at dominance.

"Your suffering," she whispered, voice echoing softly in the chamber, "is far from over."

The golden dagger twisted one last time in his shoulder. A bone snapped with a dull crack. His scream was hoarse, nearly silent, but his wide eyes said enough. Then she pulled back, letting his broken body slump forward. Blood ran freely, staining his torn shirt in dark blooms of red.

She called out.

"Shez."

A ripple in the air. A figure emerged from the shadows—tall, armored in black steel, his presence suffocating. Shez, the enforcer of House Obsidian, knelt silently.

Alexa's gaze never left Dragomir's mangled form.

"Take him. We're leaving."

She walked ahead, leaving Dragomir's body to be dragged unceremoniously. His feet scraped the stone, a wet trail marking their path as they emerged from the fortress into the night air.

And they were waiting.

A group of thirty captives.

They formation under the pale moonlight some unconscious—battered, bloodied, yet still breathing. At their forefront stood Silas, pale-faced but unharmed compared to the rest. Beside him, the vampire countess watched with an unreadable expression, bruises marring her otherwise flawless features.

Silas recognized Alexa instantly.

"Y—" Before a single word left his lips, a figure shifted beside Alexa. Abbadon. Like an ancient warden raised a single hand, and the very air shuddered.

Silas' voice vanished.

Sealed.

Not even the sound of his breathing could be heard. His mouth moved, furious and desperate, but silence reigned. Alexa's lips curled, satisfaction glimmering behind the bloodstains on her cheek.

The other captives recoiled, eyes widening in horror as they took in Dragomir's ruined body. Some trembled. Others whispered silent prayers.

None dared speak aloud.

They had felt Shez's strength. They had tasted Abbadon's power.

But they had not met her.

"Abbadon," Alexa said, voice cutting through the stillness, "we're going to Sunstone. With all of them."

Abbadon nodded once.

No questions.

A void began to open.

A swirling mass of black energy expanded behind him, tendrils of nothingness devouring the ground as it spread.

One by one, the prisoners were dragged into its depths. Silas fought, struggling against invisible chains, but the void was relentless.His gaze met Alexa's— as ifpleading, furious, terrified?

But she only smiled.

The void swallowed them whole. And the portal collapsed.

_____

The private lounge of the bar was dimly lit, warm amber light casting long shadows across the polished black floors and plush red couches. Expensive bottles lined the back wall, the scent of aged whiskey lingering faintly in the air.

Emberly sat back, arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. Her long, obsidian-black hair cascaded over one shoulder, contrasting with the deep red satin dress that hugged her figure perfectly. The slit ran high along her leg, elegant yet dangerous, much like the aura she carried.

A glass of untouched wine rested in front of her, catching the soft glow of the room's crystal fixtures.

Emberly broke the silence, her voice calm but laced with sharpness. "Do you finally see why I told you? Going against your family's wishes—marrying that spoiled prince who couldn't even handle rejection—was the worst mistake you ever made."

Across from her, Astrid sat stiffly, her dark cloak drawn tight around her shoulders as though trying to shield herself from the conversation rather than the chill.

The usual fierce glint in her eyes was dimmed, masked beneath the weight of recent events. Astrid's lips tightened, but she said nothing. The memory stung too much.

She remembered it all—the humiliating, selfish revenge of Drakos Valyrian. His petty need to prove a point after Emberly rejected him, thinking that marrying her closest friend would somehow leave her begging to reconsider. How wrong and stupid he had been.

That day had shattered every illusion she held about him. Drakos wasn't just arrogant—he was weak. A coward who sought power through control, through making others suffer for his bruised pride.

Yet, despite Emberly's warnings, she hadn't fought back then. She couldn't. Her family—her bloodline demanded loyalty above all else, and no matter how much Emberly had insisted she could protect her, Astrid couldn't bring herself to sever those chains.

She had accepted to marry the crown prince now the emperor of the Dragon Empire.

And now, the consequences had finally come full circle.

"Now look at what happened to Seraphina." Emberly's voice cut deeper, this time sharp with restrained fury.

Astrid's fists clenched in her lap. She exhaled shakily, guilt gnawing at her chest before she shot back, "It's because your son seduced her!"

Emberly's laughter filled the lounge, rich and unrestrained, echoing like the chime of a bell. It was the kind of laugh that made Astrid's cheeks burn.

"Oh, please. Seduced her? Pyris didn't have to seduce anyone. Your precious Drakos drove her away all on his own. First off he planned to seduce him... u know this and I don't need to go back in history but what you don't know... "