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It was blatantly obvious to Lillith something was bothering her Master.

Her chest rose to meet his as she was still panting after one of the most intense orgasms of her life, and she opened her eyes to look at the Devil whom she had shared it with, again catching that fleeting glimmer of vulnerability. He sharply turned away from her as soon as he was aware it had not gone unnoticed, reluctantly disengaging himself and flopping onto his back.

He was instantly and unnervingly quiet, huffing through his nose as he struggled to regulate his respiration. The Arch Devil immediately slipped on his mask of indifference and quickly got up, wasting no time in redressing himself. When the demon saw she was still too weak to pull herself up off the floor of the shed, he stepped outside and leaned against the doorway to pull a pack of cigarettes out of his breast pocket and slid one free. He lit it with a small flame he conjured from his pointer claw, and inhaled deeply.

"I didn't know you smoked." She said quietly.

"There is much you do not know about me." He replied without looking at her, exhaling a billowing cloud and instead turned his attention towards the sunset, watching the blood-red sun sink over the darkening horizon.

It was true. They really knew very little about one another. Neither had foggiest idea in how to even begin to communicate conversationally; to say they had a rocky start would be the understatement of the century. It would seem violence and pleasure were the only languages they both fluently spoke and understood.

Lillith looked to his face, and couldn't help but see him as a living flame; fire incarnate. He was equally as deadly and destructive as he was enticingly attractive. His crystalline eyes glittered like golden embers in the dying light, and how elegant the contours of his features looked within the soft glow of the fading orange rays. The angry vermilion and tangerine which emblazoned the sky, matching his suit quickly deepened into magenta and amethyst purples as dusk began to fall; until all that remained of the sunset was a hazy mauve, and then that melted away in turn as Stygian darkness overtook the sky. The light of day lost once again, and faded to memory, like a defeated king giving up his throne to the Lord of night.

Demiurge leisurely smoked while he waited patiently for her to recover. When he had finished his cigarette, he snuffed it out on his palm and then stalked back into the shed. The Arch Devil knelt down to grab the man's corpse which jiggled obscenely as the demon hooked his arms underneath the man's shoulders for a secure grasp and hauled his husk backwards, grunting with effort. Demiurge drug him out of the shed, leaving a dark red smear of blood in his wake. Lillith watched curiously as he hauled him away from the building and when he was a suitable distance, he took a few steps back.

Demiurge extended his arm and rotated his wrist with a graceful flare, then clenched his fingers into a fist.

"Funeral Pyre." The massive carcass was then engulfed by Hellfire flames, and in mere seconds the monster who had psychologically shattered her, taught her to survive on burning hatred alone, was reduced to nothing but a pile of gray ash; and then with a light evening breeze, he was carried away as mere dust in the wind.

And just like that, he was gone.

She felt a weight lift from her shoulders as she realized she would never have to fear him again, as she herself had killed him with her own two hands.

As satisfying as that fact was, she was disconcertingly conflicted; because now she was a murderer; just like Demiurge. While she did not regret it in the least and she sure as Hell would do it all over again, it still bothered her that the one thing she now had in common with her Master was taking human life.

A brand new, chilled stone of dread settled into her stomach. It was not quite as heavy, but uncomfortably burdensome all the same.

She was so very tired, the periphery of her body and mind were stretched exhaustively thin; though she was too wiped out to dwell on such dark and disquieting thoughts right now. Lillith desperately needed sleep. Maybe her Master would be merciful enough to let her have a nap.

When she could finally feel her limbs again, she unsteadily rose on tremulous legs and the demon led the way back inside.

Lillith made a beeline for the basement, like a prisoner trained to return to her cell.

"Pet."

She paused, and when she turned to face him, she saw that he had halted in the kitchen and had not followed her.

"Go take a shower. There are clean towels in the cabinet." He said tonelessly, and canted his head towards the bathroom.

To her surprise, he did not banish her to the basement again.

"Thank you, Master!" It was the first time she had smiled since her imprisonment here.

'Hot water! Soap!'

The Arch Devil gave a curt nod of acknowledgement and a small flick of his tail, but that was his only response.

Lillith wanted to hug him before she practically skipped into the bathroom, but she knew better than to push her luck.

She gasped as hot water rained down over her face and agonized muscles, and stung her new puncture wounds. But she managed to ignore the burning sensation in her state of joy, though.

Lillith watched the spatters of blood on her arms and chest from her personal devil mix with water, diluting them into a rosy, splotched patterns, akin to flowers painted in watercolors as they rinsed from her ivory skin and swirled down the drain, disappearing. Every last trace of the bastard was now wiped from the face of the earth.

She lived to watch him suffer, watch him die.

Lillith had won.

A smile played on her lips, small but victorious. A hollow victory, as she had to become a monster herself to get this far; but victory nonetheless. The human then scrubbed and scrubbed until she was raw. She washed and rinsed her hair out twice, and the entire time she found herself reaching for the ghost of the collar and chain to step around it; she had grown so used to it being in the way that she could swear she still felt its cumbersome weight.

Was it odd to say she now felt naked without it?

'But he tore it off...does that mean I'm free? I'm not being punished anymore?'

She hummed happily as the scent of the soap flushed her senses; it smelled like lavender and oh, how fucking ethereal it felt to be clean again!

When she peeled the curtain back and reached for her towel, she discovered that Demiurge had left a neatly folded maid's uniform on the sink for her.

'Clothes!' He was letting her be human once more!

'If I please Master, he treats me well. I like having food, showers and clothes. I need to be good.'

She dried off and enthusiastically dressed herself, and walked into the kitchen to find the demon sitting at the dinner table, and he appeared lost in thought with two fingers resting against his temple.

{I see...very good. I will return shortly, then.}

He was actually listening to and communicating with another Guardian or Lord Ainz.

'Are we going home? Please, tell me we're going home!'

Lillith could only hope he wasn't leaving her here alone again and he would be kind enough to take her back to the Tomb with him.

The demon turned to her, and looked her up and down with heat in his gaze. There was an uncomfortable silence, before he curled his tongue as though to speak, and hesitated for a moment, as though the words he needed to say left a bad taste in his mouth.

"I trust you have you learned your lesson?" Demiurge asked, his frosty crystalline eyes boring into hers.

She worried her lower lip and cast her eyes downward and nodded solemnly.

"Yes, Master." Lillith said.

"Good. Then your retraining is complete. We will return to Nazarick tonight." He concluded.

Finally, she was going home!

---

Demiurge had every intention of keeping Lillith captive for at least four to five days at the ranch, even after she had completed her final task; but more pressing matters in Nazarick required his immediate attention. Lord Ainz messaged him and stated his presence was required at the Tomb. He had no choice but to heed his Master's call.

The Arch Devil was at least satisfied that she would certainly think twice before disobeying or disrespecting him again, so after it was all said and done, he would deem her training an overall success.

Demiurge stared unseeing out the window of the carriage the entire ride home, while Lillith soundly dozed. She had passed out hardly ten minutes into the ride home, and curled herself up into a little ball. The demon's mind, however, refused to be silent long enough for him to even relax. He fruitlessly endeavored to avoid contemplating how their last...interaction had made him feel.

A unsettling array of complex emotions suddenly plagued his mind and the heart he was determined not to have.

Why had he felt such a burning urgency to be skin-to-skin with her as he did? Normally he hated to be exposed. It made him feel vulnerable, susceptible, weak; like all Incubi, his flesh was hypersensitive, almost painfully so; hence why his race held pleasure and pain in such high regard, and shielded themselves with as much fabric or armor as possible, especially during carnal interactions.

Incubi rarely undressed during sex, because of the alarmingly high risk of developing feelings for someone they had no initial intention of building a serious relationship with.

The difference between sex with clothes on and when bare-fleshed for Incubi was as stark as night and day; a spark compared to a raging inferno. The spark could be controlled, contained; easily extinguished. But that inferno was all consuming, impossible to cage and scorched all that it touched.

That mind-shattering ecstasy they experienced during what was usually intended to be a mere casual encounter made it was far too easy to grow attached to a partner who may not feel the same way.

A bare-flesh partner must be meticulously chosen, and for so many reasons they were often left out of the equation entirely.

This was something they learned early on in life; if they did not, it frequently led to agonizing heartbreak from pining after someone who had no intention of bonding with them. Incubi imprinted effortlessly, but if the feelings were not reciprocated, it all too easily resulted in a cruel, bitter, and violent individual; in extreme cases, the offending demon was murdered, and/or the aggressor committed suicide.

If they did undress with their partner, it was because of one of only three reasons:

1. They were already mated for life and had, or were trying to establish a bond (usually during Rut).

2. They were comfortable enough with one another to understand it was purely for fun and neither _ever_had any intention of taking it seriously. This, however, was extremely perilous ground, and it usually applied only to Incubi who either hated each other but still saw the benefit of physically releasing frustration, or Incubi who had zero chance of ever being mated for life.

3. Because it meant something, or one of them wished that it did.

Reason number two applied to Demiurge and his brother; and he could safely say he felt comfortable in the nude with Malphas, because the elder demon understood this vulnerability and the need for a trustworthy partner. As Alpha Devils, they also found this arrangement to be particularly beneficial during their Ruts, which occurred once every two years.

During their cycle they were both subjected to not only psychological, but physical changes as well; for up to a week, they were in an almost constant state of heightened arousal, their blood ran scathingly hot and they also developed a knot for a mating tie during intercourse, and their canines elongated for the purpose of injecting bonding venom. An unrelieved inflated knot was nothing short of excruciating, and masturbation barely took the edge off, so a partner was absolutely crucial during this time period. Demiurge was still young, and had only experienced one Rut so far, but Malphas had been through three already.

The elder demon had taught his brother what to expect and eased him through his first cycle; he urged him not to bite anyone, as he had yet to learn to control his venom glands. Biting a potential mate during Rut and injecting them with bonding venom is the method of cementing a mating bond. The most potent of pheromones are stored in an Incubus' salivary ducts, and the throat of Incubi and Succubi have cells that are prone to imprinting and retaining the coding of a potential mate's DNA, forging a permanent bond and causing the cells to lose their malleable properties. Should this bite be delivered to another species, such as a human or dark elf, it would have a similar effect, and his partner would imprint on him as their life-mate, and vice versa.

Malphas advised him to not remove his clothes either, because the last thing he needed was to imprint on himself or anyone else during his first cycle. He also explained to never disengage whilst knotted to a partner as this could cause injury to one or both of them, and advised to lie on his side during a tie. These were all mistakes easily made by a young Alpha lost in the midst of raging hormones. Had it not been for Malphas' guidance, Demiurge likely would have done all of the above.

Demiurge wondered if he was coming upon that time once more, but he was positive he still had another eight to ten months before he entered his next Rut, so that could not have been an influence. The demon did not believe any of those reasons applied to why he took such a risk with his human pet. He did not regret it, but he was thoroughly unsettled by how compelled he was to throw caution to the wind and feel her flesh against his.

But Holy Hell, was it divine. He could not help but to want MORE.

It was fucking addictive. How velvety soft and warm she was against his skin_._ He was utterly helpless to control how his bare body reacted to the stimulus of her writhing beneath him. It was instantaneous, a burgeoning heat in his chest, but then her scent of desire blossomed around him like a night-blooming, desert flower unfurling its petals, her sweet nectar designed to attract pollinators from miles away. And how he could smell his own unmasked, dark, scorched, woodsy musk laying over top of hers, mixing with her sweet ambrosia, claiming her as his...it clouded his mind and surrounded him like a fog, breaking his resolve, breaking him open.

It left left him more vulnerable than he had ever been in his lifetime.

He now saw why Malphas had strongly advised against it.

But it had all happened so fast. When Lillith had clawed at him in her defensively hostile state, he was furious...at first. So he grabbed and bit her in retaliation, and then she raked her nails down his neck in much the same manner his brother would.

And oh, how he liked to fight with Malphas; he thoroughly enjoyed it when the elder demon roughed him up, clawed him, bit him, hurt him. Their fights usually led to sex, so he naturally associated violence and pain with sexual pleasure.

Perhaps it was because she had acted more like a predator than prey, which was completely unexpected, and disarmed him in the moment. So he in turned treated her as another demon, as he would his brother, rather than his human servant.

Yes, that must be it. In her frenzied state, she had reminded him of his brother, so he felt safe being prone and bare-fleshed when he normally would not dare to do so.

Demiurge chose to write it off as a mere heat-of-the-moment incident, and nothing more, disregarding his logical side which scolded him for being willfully ignorant.

---

"He chained you like a dog and starved you for three days?!" Tuare could not believe what Lillith had just had confided in her. "That's where you have been?!"

Lillith kindly left out the fact that she was stabbed in the neck with a drug-loaded syringe, basically abducted from her bathroom, threatened with a bullwhip, tasked with slaughtering a lamb, forbidden to speak and forced to move on all fours like an animal the entire time.

"He did, but I wouldn't say starved, exactly; I was still being fed, but certainly not enough." Lillith corrected her. For some strange reason she still found herself craving the sweet maple and bourbon seasoned steak he had fed her during that time.

A flash of disbelief skittered over Tuare's face.

Was Lillith actually defending his psychopathic and controlling behavior? It would seem whatever he did to her at the ranch had made Stockholm's Syndrome dig its claws firmly into her mind. Lillith was either blind to how fucked up her entire situation was, or was rationalizing it simply so she wouldn't have another nervous breakdown.

After returning to Nazarick and eating more wholesome meals and getting three nights worth of eight hour sleep, she was now more coherent, and did at least perceive that the 'retraining' he put her through was actually a torture of twisted sorts.

And yet she was nowhere near as alarmed by this as she should have been. As far as Tuare was concerned, Lillith needed to march straight to Sebas so he could escalate it to Lord Ainz.

But she didn't. She never did, no matter what the Devil did to her, and probably never would. The demon had successfully enshrouded her in his opaque veil of control, dulling her sense of self-preservation and nothing anyone said or did could make her see clearly as to how she was now an easily controlled puppet dancing on his strings.

"I was wondering where you were. I looked everywhere for you around the tomb. I honestly thought he might have killed you." Tuare quietly admitted.

After Lillith failed to meet her for lunch two days in a row, Tuare had asked Pestonya to escort her to the 7th Floor under the reasoning of needing to check if anything needed to be restocked or cleaned in both Demiurge's chambers and her friend's room during their absence, and she took the opportunity to check Lillith's quarters for clues. When she saw the hole punched into the shower wall, she was sure Demiurge had mortally wounded or killed her and disappeared to hide her body.

"I can understand why. I thought I was dead for sure when I forgot to restock his towels." Lillith said as she anxiously ran a hand through her hair. "I slipped them into his bathroom, but he still knew. It would seem nothing gets past him."

"I gathered something went horribly wrong when I saw the crater in your bathroom wall. Did he punish you for forgetting?"

The memory of Demiurge's immaculate, dripping wet body grinding into her as he clasped his hand over her mouth briefly flitted through her mind. Lillith couldn't help but blush.

"In a way..." Lillith said quietly, averting her eyes.

"Should I let Sebas know what he has done?" She suggested, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

Tuare deeply hoped this was the final straw, that what he had done would make her see that he was injecting her with nothing but caustic poison, which would slowly erode her soul from the inside out. She silently begged her friend to take the helping hand she was offering.

"No...I'm afraid it'll only make things worse." Lillith sighed. "And it wasn't all bad; he wasn't completely cruel the entire time. He was...I mean, he was really mean at first, but then he started being nicer, and then he gave me real food. He actually cooked something for me. I could tell it was something he spent time preparing, like he really wanted me to enjoy it."

That threw Tuare for a loop; she could not fathom Demiurge doing anything beneficial for anyone other than himself or Lord Ainz. She was perplexed...and also extremely concerned that she could not get Lillith to open her eyes to what was happening. But she knew if she were to say anything negative, it would only make her dig the heels of denial in deeper, and possibly push her further towards him.

"That's...odd." Was all Tuare could come up with. Her face clearly bore a look of confusion.

"Right? And then he brought me out to the skinning shed and-" Lillith's tongue suddenly felt too thick in her mouth. "-and he had HIM in there." She said, her voice shaking on the last word.

She began to tremble as she prepared herself to reveal her darkest sin. She had seriously considered keeping it to herself, but it was eating away at her like corrosive acid. Lillith had to tell someone or she would undoubtedly go insane.

"Him?"

"The one..." Her breath hitched as she remembered the sensation of his flesh tearing under her nails, and how his eyes bulged as he raggedly gasped for air when she pulled the chain tight around his throat. "...the one who almost killed us both." Lillith whispered.

Tuare's jaw dropped and she paled. She said nothing; utterly at a loss for words.

"I...I killed_-I...murdered_ him." Lillith hissed out, swallowing thickly, and it sounded as though she were reaching deep into the pit of herself for the words, picking them from pile of shattered glass that was once the mirror of her soul and handing the broken shards carefully to her, as if Tuare would have any idea what to do with them. "Demiurge had him tied down, and...I just kind of snapped...and he let me do it. I had his blood all over me...I...I watched him stop breathing."

It was strange. Lillith still felt nothing for taking his life.

No, what made her feel as though there were a gaping, black hole of emptiness in her chest was how _little_it bothered her. She had spent weeks telling herself Demiurge was a fucking monster for so callously killing the prisoner as he did; granted, they had different reasons for killing, but it did not change the fact that she had just as violently killed this man as he was helplessly tied to a chair and like her Master, she felt nothing. His blood on her hands held no weight on her heart whatsoever. It was like stepping on a cockroach.

Lillith was more worried about how Tuare would react to her confessing that she had murdered someone. How would her friend look at her now, knowing what she had done?

"...Good." Tuare said simply. "He was a true monster. I don't doubt he would have tried to hurt either of us again if he could. You...you honestly did nothing wrong. We both know what he would have done to either of us if he found you or I in the same position. I think I would call it...delayed self defense?"

Delayed self defense. Lillith liked that.

She breathed a sigh of relief that Tuare did not think less of her for committing what was still technically murder. But she still felt...hollow.

"He gave me revenge." She said with the barest of whispers. "I can't...I can't hate him for what he has done after he gave me that."

Now it made a little more sense as to why Lillith was letting this go. Tuare understood what it was like to survive on hatred, and Demiurge had somehow gifted her with the opportunity to destroy the very object of that burning ball of rage they both now carried inside them after the horrific nightmare they had endured.

"I don't know how he found him or why Demiurge let me do it, but he seemed...pleased that I did. And then when he...did what he does afterward, it was different. He seemed different." Lillith mused.

"Different how?" Tuare asked.

"He was really quiet after it was over, like something was bothering him. Like...maybe I did something wrong? But then he took the collar off of me and let me take a shower."

Her friend didn't know what to say. There was no real pattern to that behavior that she could discern, so she was empty of any useful advice.

"That's...weird. You might just ask him if everything is okay." Tuare offered.

As if it were that easy to get an answer out of the demon. He was a man of few words. Or least towards her. They had already established that they didn't really know how to converse verbally with one another. Tuare didn't understand because Sebas was easy to talk to, because he saw them as equals. Demiurge, on the other hand...she had to earn his approval at every turn. He decided what she was worthy of, whether it be the right to speak or food or clothes.

Everything depended on pleasing her Master.

Lillith nodded, but knew she would not bother to ask because her Master would not likely reply with a satisfactory response.

---

While Lillith was chained in the basement at the ranch, Demiurge had taken notice of some of the Abelion sheep dying off. They would rapidly decline in health after so many weeks, despite having adequate clean water to drink and food based on their body mass index and basal metabolic rate. After extensive research, he discovered they were actually omnivorous and did not fare as well on mincemeat alone without the roughage of vegetable matter in their diet.

'Damn it. I could have simply asked Pet and she would have told me that.' He scolded himself for failing to use a readily available resource of information.

But how would he have even presented such a question? He could not simply waltz up to her and ask, "Do the humans I keep as livestock need plant matter in order to stay alive until it is their designated time to be skinned and butchered into mincemeat, which I will then feed to their fellow prisoners later?"

No. Trail and error was, while perhaps not the most effective, the safest teacher in this matter. But that was a helpful piece of information he would certainly keep in his back pocket. While she fed herself whilst in the Tomb, when he had kept her chained at the ranch, her only provisions were meat. This was not intentional; he simply did not know humans were not strictly carnivores, unlike demons. Demiurge could not help but now wonder what else he may be ignorantly neglecting in caring for her. Perhaps he would do more in-depth research later just to ensure there was nothing crucial he had missed. The last thing he needed was for an easily avoidable mistake to result in organ failure or death. He had put far too much work into her training to lose her due to incompetent knowledge of human biology.

He requested Ainz Ooal Gown of what he required, and his Lord kindly provided him with coin to purchase a large amount of grain for the Abelion sheep on his ranch. Demiurge was pleased; now the creatures were sure to survive several weeks longer until they were to be processed, and there would be less wasted. Each time one of them died, they must be skinned and butchered immediately to prevent spoilage. He had been losing at least five to eight a week, making more work for himself and he now knew this to be due to lack of a proper diet.

But to the completely counteract the demon's satisfaction, it was Sebas, along with Tuare and Lillith, who were assigned to move the shipment which had been delivered to the mansion (where Sebas had been stationed to gather intelligence) in the Royal Capital, to the Demiurge's agricultural property.

Demiurge, however, was to remain in Nazarick during this process, and was to await further instructions from his Master. It sounded as though he were plotting something on a grand scale.

The Arch Devil was severely torn. Had Lord Ainz himself not assigned them to this task, the demon would have strictly forbidden it.

It was the very first time Demiurge had allowed his pet out of the Tomb without himself present as an escort, and he was anxious beyond belief; outside of Nazarick's walls, she was a walking target. She was young, pretty, and petite; a male of any species would very much like to have her for themselves.

Demiurge growled.

'Mine. MY pet. MY PROPERTY.'

The Arch Devil's bruised bites, claw marks and Alpha scent would instantly ward off another demon of any class, as it was the equivalent of putting his signature all over her; but humans lacked the sense to respect such boundaries.

Alas, because he was so uncomfortable with the...complex _feelings_he was having, he decided it might be best to separate himself from her for a while (as much as he despised releasing her from his clutches).

Despite how the demon clashed and quarreled with Sebas, he did in fact trust him to put their best interests first and foremost. It was the Butler who cared enough to risk his own neck and braving the potential wrath of Lord Ainz himself by bringing both of the humans into the safety of Nazarick's walls, after all.

Still, it was far more difficult to watch her ride away from the Tomb in the stagecoach than he ever could have fathomed.

Unfamiliar panic clawed its way up into his chest and throat when they disappeared from view over the horizon...why did he feel like the sun was sinking when it was so clearly high in the sky?

Even as they were less than five miles down the road, Demiurge again implored Sebas to not let either of them out his sight.

{I'm sure I do not have to tell you, Sebas, they are easy and appealing prey.} Demiurge implied. {Most will see them as such.}

Sebas sighed. He could swear every time the demon messaged him, a few of the gray hairs on his head turned white.

{Yes, Demiurge, I understand that. I will not allow them to wander unattended.} The Butler face-palmed in irritation and assured the overbearing demon for the THIRD fucking time that he had it all under control.

{See that you don't. Should anything happen to my pet-}

{I assure you, Lillith and Tuare will be under my protection.} Sebas insisted, and disconnected the message.

Tuare and Lillith couldn't help but giggle as they overheard the exchange.

"Aw, your Master misses you already!" Tuare teased.

Lillith laughed and playfully rolled her eyes.

"He's probably going to sniff me all over like a damn bloodhound when I get back to make sure I don't smell like anyone else. Possessive dick."

They both almost pissed themselves laughing at the mental image.

Sebas didn't find it the Arch Devil's covetous customs to be so funny, though, and remained stone-faced amidst their girlish giggles. ''Ainz help me if I accidentally bump into her moving the grain.'

Two hours later found Demiurge on his sixth cigarette and third scotch as he was swallowed alive by crippling anxiety. He restlessly paced back and forth in his quarters like a caged animal, the fireplace blaring with his anger each time he strode past it, his steely tail thrashing with brooding discontent.

He had made a colossal mistake by allowing this. He should have appealed his Master's decision, asked for Solution to aid the Butler instead, something, rather than biting his tongue and letting his pet loose into the world full of envious eyes and greedy hands. If Lillith was away from him, he could not control her. He could not possess her. He could not protect her.

It left him powerless, and her terribly vulnerable.

He glowered in anguish behind is spectacles; he honestly didn't know which was worse.

Demiurge wanted nothing more than to go rip her out of that stagecoach and drag her back to his Floor. He needed to be able to see her, know where she was at all times, feel secure in the fact that she could not leave him.

So many things could happen now. The floodgates were open.

His pet could run away, and Sebas might even be willing to aid in her escape.

She could be stolen from him.

'MINE.'

The Arch Devil slammed back his third drink with a scornful scowl.

Someone might trick or lure her away. Humans were so very trusting and naive; childishly so. Fuck, she could wind up in another brothel. She could become someone else's property.

The demon's fangs clenched and his nostrils flared with barely-leashed animosity as his mind raced with the worst possible scenarios.

She could be seduced...she could betray him. Now his veins were aflame, set to a roaring boil with avaricious rage. He shattered the empty container in his hand, clenching his shaking fist tighter and tighter, until the shards of glass splintered through his glove and pierced his flesh, and bright red blood trickled out and dripped to the floor.

The Arch Devil turned to face the fireplace, staring emptily at the undulating flames. The room's dancing shadows slipped up and over the furniture and out from under his desk to weave together, before forming a humanoid shape. It approached him and tipped its head to the side in a concerned gesture.

"I'm fine, Shadow Demon." He said grimly. But Demiurge was anything but. "Fetch me a healing potion."

'No. Sebas would not let anything happen to her. He knows he would have ME to deal with afterwards.' He tried to convince himself.

But the Butler had tried once before to interfere. And now he had his pet alone. What was to stop him from once again doing something just as foolish?

Shadow Demon retrieved a vial and placed it on his desk, wisely keeping his distance as somber malice radiated off the Arch Devil in waves. The entity then unraveled like a loose thread being pulled, dividing into several dark, slithering shadows which then retreated in multiple directions to again make up the dark nooks and crannies of his dimly lit quarters.

"Thank you." Demiurge belatedly grit out his gratitude.

His brow furrowed with his embittered frown. With his uninjured hand he hastily dug out another glass from a drawer in his desk and poured a fourth drink, and then mixed it with a healing potion.

'Fuck it.' Demiurge decided he could not trust the Butler, nor his pet. He would not trust his most precious possession with anyone but himself. His skin was fucking crawling; he needed to do something, now, before he lost his mind completely.