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Behind him, Aya Naamah was on her knees, bent over the tub. She had in her tiny hands his slick wave of red hair. Damp with water, she squeezed softly before reaching out to pick up the carefully folded towel beside her.

"His Grace has such beautiful hair," she complimented. "Long and red and full, like a lion\'s mane. Might I apply the scented oils to it?"

"Go for gold, slave!" Rafel let out as a deep purr.

He was still smiling. Behind, Aya blushed at his used of the word, slave. To the gorgeous Succubus, there wasn\'t a term of endearment finer. To be called a Hell Lord\'s slave was the wish of every of her kind born into Hel\'s society. Rafel knew this and happily humored her.

She took his loosened manbun in her hands and poured out a syrupy fragrant oil from an expensive crystal bottle. She began to massage into his scalp, and Rafel sighed in the tub.

Unfortunately, last night, nothing had happened. No sooner had he stepped into his room was he fallen on the great Alexandrian bed, the lights winking out in his head. Aya had been briefly put out, but quickly padded to the four-poster, pulling byzantine sheets over her Lord Master and drawing the curtains so he could sleep undisturbed.

Nevertheless, she was undeterred in her pursuit of a deep hunger only he could salve.

"Such a nice curve." Aya remembered thinking to herself when she had stolen a final glance at the upshoot of Rafel\'s erection. "He would hit all the angles perfectly, bringing utmost pleasure and superior rise in my rankings."

She just had to have him.

Presently, Rafel studied her in the long oval mirror which he had ordered be placed strategically in front of the bathtub. She treated his hair like it was a beam of sunlight caught magically by fairies.

Rafel did admit he liked what he saw in the mirror. He wasn\'t narcissistic. He didn\'t see himself as such. Because he\'d known the man himself—Narkissos of Greece. Men had been self-lovers long before Narkissos decided it was way better to fuck himself than have another person do it. Either way, Rafel was beautiful.

And beauty was a thing he admired.

The door to his grand bathroom with the shiny opal walls received two raps from behind.

"Come in!" Rafel called, groaning in delight at Aya\'s wonderful ministration.

The door peeled in soundlessly, and Corazón stepped in. She walked forward until she was standing just beside the mirror Rafel was staring at. When he turned his amber eyes to her, a wicked smile played at his red lips.

Cora looked extra spicy this morning. Maybe a little androgynous for his tastes, but the appeal was there. Her proud white top further brought out her blue eyes. She reminded him of the Germanic warrior Shield Maidens. Lovely folk, those lot! They fucked like champs.

Corazón didn\'t look him in the eye as she spoke.

"If His Grace would prefer, I could wear skirts instead."

"What!" Rafel smirked. "Please no. I rather love the pantaloons. I can stare at your pert arse in them."

Cora smiled a bit at his joke. She wasn\'t rebuffed. The Earl was a red-blooded Hellion. Flirting was their native language. Rafel on the other hand found her Tomboy tendencies intriguing. At least she knew her place.

Cora wasn\'t garrulous or masculine. She was just her.

Besides, Rafel mused that it didn\'t hurt to imagine her with the perfect little pussy under her dark pants. Imagining the swish-swish rap of the figure-hugging denim between the crack of her butt gave him great dark pleasure.

"Nope. I like you just the way you are." Rafel finished.

It took a while for Corazón to school her blush. And when she did, she began a detailed explanation of the Earl\'s schedule for the day.

"I\'ve employed the services of a Rank B Knight, my Lord, for sparring sessions should you need it. Several virgins from the neighboring village of Gūndlheim have also been procured to up the Blood Bank. You have no meetings set up for today. But this arrived early at dawn for you, Your Grace."

Corazón paused in her speech, handing over a small letter with an unbroken seal of gold.

"It\'s a letter...from the Queen."

"The Queen?" Rafel sat up in the bathtub, water sloshing down his body, and his ginger hair dropping from Aya\'s grasp.

He tore at the letter. And both Corazón and Aya tried not to stare at the movement of his glistening biceps and the push of a massive penis bobbing in the rosy water. The Earl was well-endowed, thought Cora. Right now, she was the thirsty one. Not for blood though. But for hot, salty cum.

She cleared her throat. "What does it say, Your Grace?"

Aya Naamah rose from behind and moved to stand beside Corazón. They watched the Earl in silence, waiting for a response.

"Apparently," said Rafel a beat later. "I\'ve been invited to a late evening soiree the Queen is hosting later today. I\'ve been listed as the Enigmatic Earl of Emberfall."

Rafel laughed darkly, passing over the thick black invitation card to the young women. Corazón regarded the card with a wry eye. Sure, it was addressed to \'The Enigmatic Earl of Emberfall\' in pure gold cursives.

"His Grace has already made an impression on the Eldorian High Society in just a night of his ascension." Aya remarked. "Will you be attending?"

Rafel thought of it a moment. It was yet early to traipse around fickle mortals. But not too early to up levels by raising his power ranking. Leaving Hell for earth, he had forfeited for a hundred years his Rank as Apollyon. Thankfully, he still had his system, Arcane Rune of over a million souls, and his divine infernal bloodline.

Devil knew he couldn\'t afford to be without a bloodline in the mortal realm!

A Hell bloodline costed an astronomical round figure of 10 000 souls. And that was just a Rare one.

Rafel had a million souls stipend, and sure he could visit the Mage shop here on earth to purchase the necessary items to make leveling up easier—perhaps another legendary armor like a Phoenix Gold one. But no. Rafel believed in earning his artifacts in blood.

If it wasn\'t born of blood and battle, the wielder was not worthy.

So he much preferred to fight and murder his adversaries to claim theirs. Years in the arena of Hel taught him to love blood as much as his next breath. BlüdThïrste wasn\'t just a name. It was him.

Fuck the Mage shop!

But to answer Aya\'s question, Rafel lifted his eyes to both women. "Yes. I will be attending," Rafel said. "If the Queen of Eldoria wants a meet with the Enigmatic Earl, a demon is what she\'ll be getting."

Rafel watched Corazón smile darkly. The witch!

"It\'s seven hours till the set time. Should His Grace change his mind, I could make it seem like the letter was lost in the wind, or that it never even left the Royal Castle." Cora offered.

Rafel rose from the water with a lopsided grin. "As much as that brings me grim joy, dear Corazón, this is one party I\'ll have to attend."

Cora looked down the majestic ripples of the Earl\'s giant stature, scented water sweeping down his legs in shiny pebbles as he stepped out the bathtub. He towered over her, and she was tall. His cock, potent and girthy pointed straight ahead. Aya was holding out Rafel\'s crimson bathrobe but she didn\'t offer it.

Not yet.

Rafel stood fully nude before both women.

"Does His Grace desire anything first?" It was Aya who spoke. She stared blatantly at his erection, heavy and slimy in drying suds.

"Is my slave offering?" Rafel chuckled.

Neither Corazón or Aya replied.

"Fetch the nearest virgin to my bedchamber. I require a blood feed." Rafel commanded into the splashy bathroom. Then he collected the bathrobe over Aya\'s frozen hands, pounding out with an enjoyable lascivious grin splitting his handsome face.

Two wet cunts needed his attention right now. He could smell their need in the fucking wind.

But Rafel would make them beg for it. He would punish them. The fucking beautiful she-devils! He was nothing if not a sadistic motherfucker.

Dusk came quickly to Emberfall. And with Corazón Mortimer waving out the towering double doors of the Manor, Rafel rode out in his new and improved carriage with his trusty Succubus at his side in the plush interior. The carriage was a fine one. Rafel had no idea just how rich he was.

But Cora had mentioned something about the Legatus of Rocasus, a nearby military state asking him for a loan to fund his armies.

Rafel put it at the back of his mind to consider later. Investment in warfare was a good line of thought.

During the ride, he turned his eyes to his date for the night.

Aya Naamah.

The evening breeze filtering in through the open windows caressed the décolletage of her low-cut midnight one-piece. But it didn\'t need to emphasize anything about those tits. She had some pretty nice knockers.

Sitting as comely as she was, no one would ever guess she was Lucifer\'s former pet adopting a mortal visage. No horns. No blue skin. No dripping pussy.

Rafel himself was gallantly dressed, courtesy of his river eyed Chamberlain. He loved the obsidian slacks and button-down he wore underneath. But the high-collar overcoat atop, framing his broad shoulders, he did not. It made him look chivalrous. He wanted to say no in the ornate walk-in closet just an hour ago, but the look of adoration in Corazón\'s eyes shut his lips.

The carriage ride was mostly silent with Aya squirming on the seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs.

"A Succubus could never sit still without something shoved up there." His uncle used to joke. Which of them now, he couldn\'t remember. But he\'d laughed every single time it was said. He still grinned, even now in the carriage.

Another hour later, the carriage pulled up to a suede red carpet about a mile long, leading up to a smashingly majestic villa. It was white. All glorious white. Even down to the magnolias somehow creeping on its outer walls. It was the paradox to his own Manor.

The party was already in full swing when Rafel and Aya walked in through the brown oakwood doors ajar, to a room so white it blinded the eye for a minute.

Rafel instantly regretted coming here.

"The shit I do for these mortals," he gritted under his teeth, rubbing his temples.

He ached for a dark spot. A shadow. Something. Anything he could slink into and vanish, teleporting back to the Manor and Emberfall\'s sprawling darkness. But nothing. There wasn\'t a fucking shadow anywhere.

The room was lit in a thousand candles. And the chandelier above was like a burst of starlight.

Elegantly dressed Lords and Ladies of Eldoria swished about, making hushed conversation with the occasional bawdy laughter ringing out. The moment Rafel walked in, all eyes turned. He had been in a few seconds but his footfalls were so silent none in the large room noticed immediately.

But when they did, they all did a one-eighty with their long aristocratic, powdered necks, turning to stare.

The women\'s eyes glued to the frankly terrifying six foot six beast of a man who seemed to encapsulate somehow all their fantasies and nightmares in one hulking body. His flattering red hair and ruthless yellow eyes didn\'t help. The men\'s eyes, on the other hand, were all for Aya Naamah.

No surprise there.

Thinking this was the opposite to what he usually felt when being stared at by thousands of hordes in the arena, Rafel deftly sought out the most dimly lit corner of the room. He settled himself beside a tall pillar and pulled out the small bottle from his coat\'s inner pocket.

Many in the room would think it a Gentleman\'s alcohol. But it was actually a virgin\'s blood, graciously filled from a torn jugular by Corazón thirty minutes before his leaving the Manor.

Rafel was lost in his head for a while, slurping calmly on his bottle of blood—he didn\'t need it to survive like a vampire, but he loved it, taste and all—when a scent like sunflowers and pixie dust, mixed in a healthy dose of fresh rain assaulted his senses.

"If it isn\'t the enigmatic new Earl I\'ve been hearing so much about."

Rafel had to actually look down at the tiny voice. The woman it belonged to wasn\'t tiny though. The part of her irises which should be white was unearthly gold. And Rafel instantly knew she was a Fairy. Not the minuscule ones that breeded in his backyard, but the Fae.

The Queen of Eldoria was Feyfolk.

She kept talking, her eyes raking his stature slow in open amusement. "Pity...the former Earl. Poor bastard leapt to his death from the Rocasian cliffs. I never liked the man anyway." She lowered her voice. "—heard he preferred cock to pussy."

Rafel smiled at this for the first time. And the Queen joined him in it.

So that was how the former Earl met his end. Pity indeed. Suicidal souls were the top currency of Hell.

"Anyway," the Fae Queen continued. "I am Giselle Nova Imperia. Pleased to make your acquaintance." She held out her hand which Rafel promptly kissed, earning him a flash of sunlight magic in her eyes.

In Hel, he would never the fuck kiss a woman\'s hand. But this was the mortal realm, he understood. There had to be exceptions for a Fae Queen anyway.

Queen Giselle had skin like snow, heavenly white and spotless. She looked like she was birthed by clouds. And when she gestured to her right, Rafel found his eyes landing on a similar looking lovely woman. The Lady had green eyes full of sin.

"This is Delia. Or as the masses call her, Countess Penderghast, proud Mistress of the villa in which we stand." Giselle introduced. "She hosts the liveliest parties!"

Rafel nodded to her. He didn\'t kiss her hand.

"Walk with me," said the Queen, leading the way out into a dark courtyard flanked by blooming tulips. Behind, Aya Naamah followed silently. And Rafel found the Fae Queen\'s eyes straying to his slave one time too many.

Giselle stopped below a high archway. Night had fully set in and a full moon parted the corridor in beams of silvery light. "I require a favor," she said, not mincing words.

Rafel sighed beside her.

What was it with powerful women and assuming he could take care of all their problems?

First, Lilith. And now, what was her name again? It had to be treason to forget a Queen\'s name.

"What kind of favor exactly?" Rafel looked down at Giselle\'s golden eyes.

"Nothing much. Just a Striga."

Aya Naamah chortled behind, a few meters away.

Exactly! Rafel thought. A Striga was a half-wolf oddity. C Rank, but what it lacked in strength and system, it made up for in ferocity. Hellions bet good money to witness a Striga and Hellhound fight to the death. It was rather...bloody.

"Might I ask why a Fairy needs to do away with a Striga?"

"No, Earl. You may not." replied Giselle. "You will find the creature at the villa\'s backyard, about thirty meters or so from the wards about the house. Handle it discreetly. The Countess is my friend and I would hate for a bloodthirsty shit to crash her party."

"And pray tell, Your Majesty, why would I do this for you?" Rafel pushed his face near hers.

Giselle briefly cowered under his smouldering gaze but quickly caught herself. "I hear you have certain...abilities. And you\'re new here. You\'d need someone to show you around. Who better than the Queen of the land?

Do this for me, Your Grace, and you might just get yourself a girlfriend for life. You want into Eldorian High Society? Kill me a Striga!"

A girlfriend, huh?

Rafel turned over the request in his head. Giselle was right. He did need someone to show him the ropes around here, and Giselle Nova Imperia was his best bet into Eldorian high society. Plus, she\'d said favor. It endeared her to him.

It wasn\'t quid pro quo like with his Aunt.

Rafel didn\'t do favors. But for this gorgeous, golden-eyed Fairy...

"Alright." He muttered.

"Thank you!" Giselle chirped ebulliently. Then surprised him by leaning in to kiss his impeccable jawline. She skipped back into the party hall like a teenager.

Just how old was she anyway, he wondered.

Once the Queen was gone, Aya slid out from the shadows which she lurked in. Her shapely hips were accentuated in the black satin of her dress and the moon settled it\'s light in pools on her cleavage.

"What are we doing, Your Grace?" She stopped at Rafel\'s side, where he stared off into the rolling hills beyond.

Rafel breathed in deeply the night air which had turned cold. Queen Giselle thought her ask wasn\'t profitable to him—at least not directly. But it was. Killing a Striga would up his rank from Mortal Earl to something significantly higher. Since Striga were notoriously dangerous, the Infernal system recognized it a real rare level threat.

He\'d get to swallow up all the souls the half-wolf had eaten and perhaps gain the Hallowed pelt Striga armor. It wasn\'t Brimstone, but it was a start.

Rafel turned from looking out to Aya Naamah, replying her question.

"—Kill a fucking Striga, I guess."