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Kisara frowned as she regarded the narrow set of stairs descending down into the blackness. She had been expecting something a bit more grandiose… something more along the lines of a great palace fortress complete with impossibly tall walls. The humans had guided her to a squat stone tower in the middle of the desert instead, the cream colored stones weathered by an alliance of time and wind, though the tower was no worse off than the hard, cracked earth that surrounded it for as far as she could see. She shook her head in bewilderment, her tail waving anxiously behind her.

“Is something the matter?"

She glanced at Zhuba, the captain of her human 'escort', the word a gift in that it had been chosen over others like 'jailers' or 'wardens.' Zhuba was handsome for a human, his shirtless body rippling with dark flesh and hard muscle, his bright teeth always visible by virtue of the man's seemingly eternal grin. He was bald in the tradition of his people's warriors, his body tattooed with martial accomplishments that matched the designs etched into the curved twin kilijes at his hips.

“This is his prison?" she asked dubiously. For a monstrosity that had supposedly taken a coalition of humanity to entrap—a coalition that had still reluctantly needed aid from the nonhumans they hated so much—this all seemed like something of a poor joke.

“The land is the prison," replied the tall warrior as he shrugged. “And the entrance is difficult to find, but easy to defend."

Kisara sighed as she rolled her eyes, realizing that the reply was probably characteristic of the man. Zhuba had proved to be an excellent commander and warrior, but he disappointed when it came to thinking outside those circles. She flicked her ears and gestured for them to continue, eager to to be away from the sun's brutal gaze at last even if it meant trading it for darkness. Her furred body really wasn't meant for the desert.

Zhuba stepped forward as the archers atop the tower and aside the gate maintained their salutes, his step on the crumbling stones confidant. Kisara followed after him with a good deal more caution while Zhuba's halberd wielding warriors trailed behind her. The stairway spiraled down, down and down until there was no warmth left in the stones and a terrible chill filled the air. There was no light, no torches or sconces to stave the darkness, but she understood the lack of need for them with the path being so simple. That didn't mean she had to like it, though.

Kisara used the time to collect her thoughts, to prepare herself mentally for the task ahead. This would be her one and only chance to prove herself useful to the humans, though admittedly the mission they had set before her was monumental. Which is a damn understatement. Skies and seas aflame, no one's even managed to even pry free a name! But Kisara was somewhat comforted by the fact that no dreamwalker had ever attempted to dredge information from the beast either, and though the risk was great that only meant the rewards were equally as great. She had no love of humanity, of course—they made it incredibly difficult for any kindred to ever feel differently—but a strict business-focused relationship might be tolerable. If I can even stumble that far…

“What's the chimaera like, Zhuba?" she whispered into the dark, though she wasn't quite sure why she was whispering.

There was no response for a moment, then she heard a snort. “Arrogant and shameless. He thinks himself above all things whether flesh and blood or ungraspable ideals." There was a pause as Zhuba let out a short, humorless laugh. “It will not take you long to see that, if what they say about you is true. Can you truly peer into another's mind?"

Kisara smiled in the darkness. “I'm just especially good at observing and reading people. It's… well, it's easy for me to hear what they mean instead of what they say." Most of the time, anyway.

“What of your tainted blood? Your ability to walk dreams?"

“Well, that's closer to mind reading, but it's not remotely as simple as you make it sound." She hesitated, then added, “I'll do my best. I was told you haven't even gotten a name from him…"

“That is correct. Sixty-eight years of torture and schemes and we have yet to earn anything but his mockery. A resilient one, to be certain."

Sixty-eight years! Kisara blinked in the dark, her heart pounding as her surged rose anew. And now they're depending on me to neatly solve their little problem…

They reached the bottom of the stairway and stepped through another arch where Kisara was finally left awed. Countless passageways ran in every direction, these lit by fungal lanterns that revealed the stone walls to be seamless and clean, almost as if they had been freshly set. Rigid warriors stood at regular intervals among them, continuing all along while they walked the twisting halls, each sectioned off at intervals by heavy doors from behind which a guard gruffly demanded a pass-phrase, and to Kisara's astonishment each door required a different one. More surprising however was the telltale green hue and prickly texture of the doors that revealed them to be made of adventine. As far as she knew there was no known method of breaking or shaping the material, which likely meant the doors had been here long before Zhuba's people had occupied it.

“The entire complex is lined with it," Zhuba explained as he noticed her curious gaze. “Whatever was meant to be imprisoned here must have been truly disastrous."

Kisara nodded distractedly, her degree of astonishment rising to keep pace with the count of warriors crowding the halls, a count that was already rising beyond that of an average garrison. All this for one creature.

The reached the farthest tunnel before long, a corridor that widened and rose to allow space for thick adventine gates that required a warrior at each side to tug open, the gates themselves locking snugly into indentions along the corridor. Several were closed behind them as they passed, but the rest were left open, the corridor's emptiness simply taken up with warriors that pounded their fists against their chests in salute to Zhuba as they waited his return from the prison chamber.

The actual door to the cell was far simpler, taking the form of something Kisara would have expected of a regular human cell. There was a larger, wider gate that she supposed was intended to allow passage for something more massive than the average kindred or human, but set within it was a far smaller door with two lockable sliders; one to peer into the chamber and the other safely transfer food. Zhuba glanced at one of the warriors guarding the door and the man saluted in return before turning to slide back the view port's cover. He gazed intently into the room for a moment, then stepped back and began to work the locks on the door. A few minutes later the door swung smoothly open.

Kisara noticed that every present warrior—Zhuba included—had drawn their weapons.

“Has he tried to escape before?" Kisara asked uneasily.

Zhuba worked his jaw, then shook his head. “No… but we ever refuse luck's call to dance. Come."

The prison chamber was lit by the same bluish glow of the fungal lanterns she had seen before, though these seemed to be somehow set into the smoothed walls of the chamber as if part of the wall itself were glowing. As a result the light was far dimmer, but still likely a great deal better than eternal darkness. The chamber was larger than she had expected; big enough to fit a hut into, at least, and each wall was in the shape of a perfect square. On the far side, chained to the back wall with a ridiculous excess of adventine chains, waited the chimaera.

Kisara inhaled sharply, awed and disappointed all at once. At first glance he appeared to be a simple human, his hair mottled and long, his skin matching Zhuba's people. Horrible scars crisscrossed the chimaera's naked body, his skin covered in filth that she scarcely wanted to identify. There was nothing legendary about him, nothing mythic. In fact, Kisara struggled to see how this creature could have earned any of the countless names he had been given. The Ravage. Sovereign's Nightmare. Kingeater. Each earned because he had supposedly traveled the world slaughtering rulers of all molds, political, military, or religious, and always after openly challenging their most stalwart protectors.

“Ask what you need of us," Zhuba said. “And it will be done."

She nodded distractedly as she stepped forward, her mind a storm. The chimaera's eyes slowly opened. She froze, swallowing down the impulse to step back while fighting her body's other attempts to betray her unease. They said nothing for a while as they stared at each other, the chimaera gazing into her eyes as she in turn gazed into his.

Then he smiled, a great cracking of the emotionless mask that had been there moments before.

“My name is Kisara," she began formally when the silence had become uncomfortable. “I have come on behalf of your captors seeking answers."

“Then seek them," came the chimaera's careless reply. Even spoken softly his voice was melodious and sweet, making it eerily pleasant to listen to.

She cocked her head, her brain jumbling as she ran through all her training and knowledge, years of expertise somehow tripping over itself like when she had been a novice. Stop it, Kisara. He can't hurt you or anyone else right now. I mean, look at him! That calmed her some and allowed her to slowly begin on her assessment, her plan of attack. Observe, force reaction, observe again.

Kisara sorted through everything she already had. He's been imprisoned here for years and probably hasn't been treated well during that time. That would grant her options, small rewards that would cost her nothing but would be invaluable to him. Yes, and they stripped him naked. Likely to degrade and shame him. She could use that as well. But his tone… he's beyond caring. Has he given up already? What was she saying? It'd be more surprising if he hadn't given up by now. Difficult to fix, but until it is no reward, gift, or bribe will ever hold value in his mind unless it bites deep. His past, then? Probe for a glimmer of something important?

“If you would speak to me," the chimaera said, interrupting her thoughts, “I would prefer it be face to face." He glanced down at the chains that buried him.

Kisara frowned, then glanced back towards Zhuba who was now scowling. Is he insane? There's no way—

Zhuba surprised her however by waving at a nearby warrior. As the warrior rushed with another towards the chimaera Zhuba turned to her and said, “We can reduce his chains enough so that he can move somewhat freely. They are not mundane bindings, as you will see, so you need not fear for yourself. We shall of course remain vigilant."

Kisara blinked, then turned to watch the warriors as they removed layers of chain from the chimaera. Before long all that held him were a series of loose chains that bound each of his limbs. The two warriors retreated once they finished, allowing the chimaera to slowly stand and face her.

She parted her muzzle to speak, but instead gasped in surprise as his body suddenly transformed before her very eyes. Rich black fur sprouted across his flesh as his bone and face restructured and shifted, his ears melting and nose jutting out to become a muzzle. The entire process should have looked horrifying, or at least that was what her imagination had told her, but she found it all strangely pleasing to watch. His transformation wasn't a wild twisting of bone and flesh, but instead a symmetrical, almost aesthetic reshaping that reminded her of an artist's touch upon wet clay.

In the span of heartbeats it was all done, leaving him nearly a mirror copy of her, though very obviously male. Her people's totem was the coyote, meaning they shared its appearance to a degree, and now in the chimaera she saw her people's coyote-like pointed ears, each colored the same deep black as his bushy tail. He now had reversed legs, so unlike that of humans, and padded paw-like hands and feet, his fingers thicker but longer and tipped with claws.

However, and just like Kisara, the blackness of the chimaera's fur was broken by wispy lines of gold that formed geometric patterns all the way to the tip of his tail, and the same rich liquid gold was in his eyes, a perfect match to hers. A black crystalline horn even protruded from his forehead, the damnable sign that told everyone she was a dreamwalker, that revealed the truth of her tainted blood.

The strange shackles binding the chimaera had apparently also reshaped themselves with the chimaera's transformation, tightening as his wrists and ankles thinned, but they weren't the reason Kisara found herself gawking. Skies and seas aflame, what the—

The chimaera cocked his head in confusion for a moment, then realization lit his eyes and he glanced at himself with a laugh. “You will have to forgive me. I have an old habit of assuming an appearance similar to that of whomever I am engaging, and I have been doing it for so long that I scarcely even think about it. Would you like me to change into something else?" At his question the fur on his arm beautifully rippled into what looked like violet reptilian scales, but it reverted back when she gave him a dazed shake of her head. She didn't want to admit it, but it was comforting see something familiar.

The chimaera shrugged, then let his gaze fall across her as he regarded Kisara intently. “It seems they try in earnest, now."

He raised a paw slowly towards her, but Kisara held her ground, refusing to be intimidated. He placed his fingers beneath her muzzle and lifted her gaze up into his own as he neared, his tail waving as anxiously as her own. Then his hand dropped, slowly, one clawed finger following the slope of her neck down to her bosom. Without warning he cupped one of her breasts over her tunic, his gaze locked into hers. He's testing me, seeking a reaction, she realized. She gave him nothing more than a curious look as he pawed her for another moment before laughing and pulling back. His paw then raised higher, slowly, hesitantly, up towards her horn—and it was then that Kisara felt her own paw twitching. But the chimaera stopped short of touching it, far enough away that he didn't even trigger an involuntary swat from her.

The chimaera stepped away and took her in more fully, his eyes traveling across the sleeveless tunic she wore, then to the fang necklace around her throat before finally eying the feathers set into the wild hair-like mane that flowed down her back.

Then he threw his head back and began laughing heartedly, surprising Kisara.

“What's so funny?" she asked as she crossed her arms.

He gave her a wolfish grin as he gestured at himself. “We are more similar than we look."

Kisara frowned in confusion.

“You are an outcast too, are you not?" he asked mildly. “Feared because they cannot understand you."

“What makes you think I'm an outcast?"

“You are azecti, yet your introduction included no tribe name."

Kisara nodded, conceding the point, though she had learned something valuable in turn. He's not some mindless beast or warrior. Nothing like Zhuba. “What's your name, chimaera?"

“I will tell you," came his easy reply, shocking her and, apparently, the warriors around her. He paused for dramatic effect, then added, “For a kiss."

Kisara raised an eyebrow. “Mocking me already?"

“Not at all."

She considered his offer, though it wasn't what he had requested that needed consideration. Kisara was in a desperate enough position that she wasn't above using feminine charm to draw information from him and that had been something she had decided early on, but it had always been a question of whether not it would even be possible. Humans found all the nonhumans they lumped together beneath the label of 'kindred' disgusting, after all, and among her own people… well, black and gold were masculine colors. The fact that simply seeing them worn on the chimaera filled her heart with an instinctive pleasure was proof enough of that, but it was also proof of the other half of her curse. Few males had found Kisara appealing solely because of those same colors while, in an irritating twist, males that hungered for their own sex still found her too feminine. Most of her partners had been female because of that—the point being that she had never really had reason to ever consider herself attractive. The chimaera was neither human or azecti however—and the long years might have left him desperate for any company—so maybe this was another doorway available to her.

Maybe.

She drew the long knife at her hip, jolting the warriors, but the chimaera simply watched her with curiosity. Without hesitation she lifted the hem of her tunic and cut free a reasonable piece off the side with her knife. She then replaced the knife and gestured for Zhuba.

“Hand me your water gourd," she said. He hesitated for only a moment—the water gourds were the one thing his people never went without and she said that knowing the warriors slept with their blades. Kisara then turned and offered both to the chimaera. “Clean your face first, then. Even I have standards."

The chimaera chuckled as he accepted both from her and moistened the cloth. As he cleaned himself Kisara noticed that his scars and the grime on him hadn't vanished with his reshaping, leaving her to wonder if they were left there intentionally or if there were simply limitations to his shape-shifting.

She beckoned to him when he had finished making himself somewhat more presentable. “Come, then, and have your kiss."

He set down the cloth and gourd, then swooped close, confident and free of hesitation. Kisara felt herself being tipped back and had only moments to blink in surprise at the strength rippling from his deceptively lithe body. His head came down then turned and his muzzle pressed against hers. It was different from a human's kiss—an azecti's lips weren't quite the same even though their muzzles weren't much like a beast's either. Their breaths mingled as his tongue slipped into her maw, its touch gentle yet hungry as it explored down towards her throat, wetly and warmly twisting with her own as she offered but a weak defense, almost as if she dared him to explore more intimately, and as he began to take her dare Kisara felt herself unable to resist a shiver.

Then it was suddenly over, the chimaera pulling back with a throaty exhalation of pleasure, leaving her stunned. He raised a paw up to wipe at a thin glistening strand that connected their muzzles, then moved it to her own to do the same.

“Razah'ildorah," he said softly.

“Huh?" Kisara replied.

“My name. It is Razah'ildorah, and like yours, it too is alone."

Kisara blinked, then raced through her thoughts with the hope of regaining control of the situation, all the while praying that he didn't notice the blush beneath her fur. Seas and skies aflame, what was that kiss? That… that wasn't normal. “Razah'ildorah?" she said, laughing as she tried the foreign name on her tongue and found it hard edged and inelegant. “It sounds unpleasant. I don't like it."

He simply shrugged, his amusement deepening.

“How about," Kisara continued as she struggled to recollect her thoughts, “You let me call you Razy instead. Much cuter."

“Cuter…?" he replied, his own bewilderment mixing with surprise. “Cuter?"

Kisara felt her breath halt as she waited, wondering if she might have upset him, but then he laughed.

“Very well. Do as you like." He waved a hand at the shocked warriors around them. “I would prefer it if they continued to call me 'chimaera' or 'stone fucking bastard' or any other of their usual favorites, though."

“Is that truly your price?" Zhuba growled as he stormed beside Razy and glowered at the chimaera. "All these years of refusing to surrender even your name and you give it away now for a cursed kiss?"

Kisara glanced uneasily between the two, but Razy merely gave the warrior a tired smile and said, “I recall offering you the same bargain, Zhuba."

“True, but it was obvious mockery."

Razy shrugged. “Your azecti friend thought the same."

Zhuba scowled and strode away, his anger stirred, but not without indicating that Kisara should follow. She hesitated, then turned when the chimaera called to her.

“I know why they sent you here," he said. “I would be delighted if you could join me for my evening meal, and perhaps then we can each make our demands."

Kisara glanced at him thoughtfully, but said nothing as the warriors began rebinding the chimaera. She then turned and left to follow after Zhuba, but it wasn't until they had again walked the length of the many-gated hallway that he stopped to confront her.

“What are you doing?" he demanded.

Kisara shrugged. “Trying to pry free what he knows, like I was told to do." At the warrior's glare she added. “I already got his name, didn't I?"

“We did not bring you here so that you could be his whore."

At that Kisara laughed, her tail flicking and ears flattening. Yet your masters promise me a fate far worse if I fail just because their patience has run as thin as their remaining options. “I'll get on my knees and swallow his cock if it'll get me what I need, Zhuba."

Zhuba's face twisted with disgust, but his words surprised her. “You should not think so little of yourself. Besides, what of your mystic abilities?"

“I already told you that it doesn't work like how you think it does," Kisara snapped back angrily. “Anyway, the more I know about a person the easier it'll be to get what I need. Sure, I'd be lying to you if I told you I knew what I was doing, but I am trying. Successfully, so far_._"

Zhuba scowled, but he gave her a reluctant nod. “True. He seems to have some kind of infatuation with you, but…"

“Why me?" she finished with a sad smile, then gave him a shrug. “I don't know. Have you presented other females to him?"

Zhuba snorted. “Of course. For a time, when it was evident pain was not proving as effective as we had hoped, we attempted pleasure. We offered him a wide variety of males and females, young and old, kindred and human. He regarded each offer with indifference—in fact, he only ever truly shows emotion when being tortured."

Then I suddenly show up and stir things around. But Zhuba has a good point… why me? Kisara shook her head. She didn't know and probably never would, but one thing that was certain however was that the humans would stop at nothing to retrieve Razy's knowledge. She didn't know the specifics, of course, but it seemed that in addition to his murderous sprees the chimaera had also stolen countless heirlooms and artifacts from the sovereigns he killed, likely as trophies. It was said that he had being doing this since the old ages, which of course meant everyone with a third a brain could easily envision a great hoard of the world's greatest relics, the ultimate reservoir of power and wealth. But only Razy knew where he had hidden his stolen treasures, and it seemed the humans were willing to overlook his other crimes in pursuit of that knowledge.

Well, dear Razy, my own freedom is dependent on what's crammed in your head now, so… Kisara sighed as she worked over her first impression of the chimaera, an impression that had utterly defied her expectations. Still, she had something, and in that something she found the seedling of a plan. Kisara glanced up at Zhuba. “Get him washed up and find something comfortable for him to wear."

Zhuba frowned. “What do you intend?"

“A romantic little dinner," came her reply. She cocked her head. “Speaking of which, have your cooks make something passable for the both of us. I've seen how well you're supplied here, so it shouldn't be too difficult. Lug a table and some chairs in there, while you're at it."

The warrior stared at her, dumbfounded. “What is the point of all this?"

One of her ears flicked as she touched her chin thoughtfully, then she regarded the warrior with reluctant patience. “It's an awfully common ploy, Zhuba, but it's effective. Treating him like a person again for one night will color me greatly in his eyes and earn me his favor, especially if he really does have a thing for me."

“We've offered him far better, yet—"

“Maybe, but I think he'll accept it this time."

“Because of you?"

She nodded. “It'll be a good start. Sometimes all it takes is a taste of what you've lost before you start feeling the pain all over again, kind of like reopening an old wound. You can understand that, right?"

The warrior nodded slowly, but he seemed uncertain.

“Come get me when it's all ready, then," she said with another sigh. “We'll find out by the day's end just how difficult my work will be."

Zhuba nodded, then waved at one of the many warriors along the passageway. The warrior saluted Zhuba before turning and walking down the halls without either being given a command or waiting to see if she would follow. She did follow however, hastily, and it was right around when she was starting to question their destination that the warrior finally paused before a door. To her it looked the same as the others along the neat, rectangular hallways, but the warrior gestured to it and then strode away. She opened it to find a small room furnished simply with a pile of bedding pillows and an urn for necessities.

I can already tell that staying here is just going to be wonderful. She closed the door behind her and flopped down on the pillows to wait. Time passed slowly, leaving her with her thoughts and her plans for the second meeting with the chimaera. Eventually she thought again of their kiss, of the hunger she had sensed from him, something partly sexual but something also beyond, and the thrill she had felt at being victim to it.

What was that? She had told Zhuba that she wasn't above using her body, but the unsettling fact—highlighted all the more by that bizarre kiss—was that she didn't even know what the chimaera saw in her. Why me? The question echoed in her mind. Razy had certainly seen many males and females in his time if he really was ageless, and she doubted she was the first ever dreamwalker he had seen, so why the interest in her? Maybe the sun and stars aligned and I just happen to be his ideal female?

She laughed at the thought and sat up among the pillows to examine herself. She didn't feel very sexy, though aside from striding in there naked there wasn't much she could do about that. She had been allowed to bring very little—even her clothing was to be provided for her. She doubted anything the prison had on offer would be sexier than what she was wearing, though, and unlike humans few kindred painted or perfumed their bodies to attract a mate.

She tilted her head. Well, there's one thing I could do… How much it mattered would depend on the chimaera, but among the azecti scent was a potent thing. Unlike with the perfumes of humans, however, an azecti could send a dozen different messages by how she or he smelled, and there was one particular scent young azecti loved to scandalously gift. Worth a try, I suppose. At this point I'll take any help I can get.

She undid the leather cord and tugged down her baggy pants, then hesitantly pressed her clawed digits against her pussy. She caressed the mound gently, her paw gliding over the thin silky fur on her mound. One hard claw tip slipped into the moistening opening of her slit with the other fingers toyed with the puffy lips and teased her clit. It didn't take long before her paw was covered in her sticky arousal.

Satisfied with the results, Kisara wiped her paws clean and let out a long breath, then she stood and carefully brushed her tail up between her thighs, allowing her wetness to streak across the fur. She repeated this until she had cleaned off her pussy, then hastily lifted and refastened her pants. Bastard better appreciate this. She could already catch whiffs of her own intimate scent, seeming as crassly obvious as a bludgeon to her, but she knew it to just be her imagination. These things tended to be subtle, noticed only after a coyly accidental waving of one's tail just before the nose of another. Exhaling, Kisara settled down to wait.

Another half hour passed by her estimation before the warrior returned to guide her back to the chimaera's cell. Zhuba rejoined her there, the great big warrior obviously displeased and annoyed, but all he offered her was a stiff nod as they once again reopened the gates to the chimaera's chamber. Inside Razy was staring at the set table with open bewilderment, his nakedness now covered by hemp slacks and a shirt.

“You told me you wanted to have dinner," Kisara said to him as his eyes crossed over to her.

“True, but…"

Kisara nodded. “And I told you that even I have standards." She turned to the warriors. “Remove the excess chains again, then leave."

The warriors merely frowned at he until Zhuba echoed her commands, after which reluctantly fell into motion. Zhuba watched without a word for some time, then, as the warriors neared completion, said, “You are certain you want to be alone with him?"

Kisara shrugged. “I'm sure he would prefer it."

“We will see, then, the depths of your success," Zhuba returned. He gave her a twisted grin. “Take care with any voiced cries—we will rush in at the slightest sound of duress."

She laughed. “I'll keep that in mind."

The warriors all filed out of the room, pulling the large metal cell door closed behind them, the locks clicking as they were slowly reset. She turned away from the door, then seated herself on one side of the small table the warriors had brought in. Two bowls steamed, each overflowing with round spheres of meat, and a third held a staggering pile of warm bread. A wheel of cheese took another section of the table, along with some strange small fruits and a pitcher of wine. It was a feast even to her, but Razy's eyes seemed to be focused only on her as he rose, his body rippling as it once again mimicked her form. He seemed reluctant when he took his spot on the other end of the table, his chains jangling loudly.

Kisara took a deep breath and organized her thoughts, but before she could voice a single word Razy raised his hand and stopped her.

“You are as much a prisoner as I am," he said gently. She realized it wasn't a question. “I understand this. I also understand what they want you to do and what you need in order to do it." He gave her a sad smile and shrugged, then continued. “I will give you free access to walk my dreams. I will not resist."

Kisara stared. Stared and stared for what seemed an eternity, and when she finally opened her muzzle he interrupted her yet again with a gentle shaking of his head.

“The dreams are free," he said. “The price will be in enduring them. You will… not find the experience pleasant. But neither will you find what the coalition wants… without my aid, at least. That aid does come with a price, as well as any question you may have. I will gladly give them, but not for free."

Ah, here it is. So he was giving her access to his dreams, but knew it would take forever to find anything of worth without guidance. Kisara sat back in her seat, her mind discordant as she shook her head. “And what's the price for those?"

“You are," Razy answered with a genuine smile. “I would like for you to take over my care. I would not be adverse to more than that, but there you are free to decide for yourself."

Kisara scoffed. “I'm not a cheap girl, Razy."

“You are worth more to me than anything I can actually give," Razy answered. “But I will give you what you seek anyway, and at the end of it all you will be free. Free from me, from your captors, and from your predicament. Is that so bad an exchange?"

This isn't going at all like how I planned. She felt her ears nervously flatten, her tail fluttering. “Why are you so interested in me?"

“Is that your first question? Do we have a deal then?" Kisara hesitated and he laughed, waving one hand dismissively. “You would not like the answer anyway, Kisara. Besides, is it truly so wrong to do what feels right? Tell me you did not feel something odd when we kissed? Something eerie and unsettling?"

“That was probably your doing," she muttered, but he was shaking his head, a harsh laugh emanating from his throat.

“Come to me, please. For just a moment."

Kisara hesitated, a voice in her head screaming for her to remain seated. He'll just do whatever he did before to you again, a voice warned in panic, but looking at his tired face, the weariness in his eyes even as they lit up at the sight of her… What is it that he's seeing that I'm not? She hesitantly stood, then moved over toward him. Razy too stood, meeting her halfway, and then simply embraced her.

She could feel her heartbeat, and his, and something in between. Her forehead throbbed, right around her horn, and an ache touched every bone in her body. What… is this? It was exhilarating as much as it was frightening, a sense of such profound comfort that it set off an absurd number of alarms within her head. But all that Razy did was hold her—until he lifted her head with his trembling paw. For a kiss, she knew, and she intended to shove away and berate him until she saw the desire in his eyes. Not for a female or even simply company, but somehow for her in particular, and that unassailable knowledge set her blushing beneath her fur with delight. This is insane! She cried to herself. I literally met him hours ago! Yet she didn't pull away from him and instead eagerly awaited the kiss, a kiss that again stole her breath and strength, that let her hungry for more, her body almost wishing for his slow but deliberate conquest.

She then almost jumped free of her fur, her heart thudding with excitement, when his paw squeezed her bottom, but instead of pulling away she only blushed more deeply, her face burning like a naive maiden as she pressed into him. She felt his paw wander up along her tail before he playfully tugged it close. Skies and seas aflame, why is this so embarrassing? She squealed, ears flicking, as she heard him inhale deeply, excitedly. As he sampled her most intimate scent. It aroused him, of course—she could feel his sheathe stirring against her belly, but instead of embarrassment this time she felt a sense of deep satisfaction.

“You scented your tail for me, you devilish little thing," Razy whispered. He gave a growl of raw pleasure. “Oh, to hold you in my arms after having given up for so long…" When she glanced up at him questioningly he blinked, then turned away, lifelessness returning to his face, and he dabbed at something in his eye. Her own eyes shot wide in surprise when she realized that it was an aborted tear he knuckled clear. A damn tear! No, he's fooling you. He's a monster, Kisara. A psychopathic murderer!

It was then that she realized Razy had been enthralled by the strange experience as much as she had. His retreat prompted her own, and before long they were again two instead of one.

“Well," Kisara said hurriedly as she struggled to comprehend what had just happened. “I can understand wanting a female after so long. It's just natural and all, and I'm not adverse to helping you with, uh, those needs… It'll make things simpler, in fact."

Razy gave a short musical laugh. “Oh?"

“Yes," Kisara said more confidently, shrugging within his embrace. “But you will only get a trickle from me until I can be sure you're not tugging my tail. And the moment you do it's straight back into the embrace of Zhuba and his men."

“I much prefer yours," came his breathy reply as he tightened his arms around her.

At that Kisara coughed, then pointedly untangled herself from him. The space between them felt odd, almost painful, and her horn throbbed in time with her slowing heartbeat. “We have a deal, then?" she asked.

He nodded slowly, his face once more expressionless. “So long as you keep your own end."

Kisara tilted her head, considering, then she pointed at his chair. “Sit."

Razy raised an eyebrow at her, but obeyed. Kisara followed after him, surprising herself with her own shameless boldness as she delicately raised her tail and sat sideways on his lap. He looked as surprised as she was, but Kisara had already decided to push on through despite the nervousness she actually felt. She twisted in place to face him, then clutched the hem of her tunic and slowly raised it, her eyes watching his face as his glance lowered to watch as she slowly exposed her breasts. His paws raised hesitantly towards them, but halted when she lowered her tunic just enough to cover herself.

“Just a taste at first, remember," she said with what she hoped was a seductive smile. “But what will you give me in return?"

Razy shrugged. “I will answer any one question."

“I think you're overestimating what a 'taste' is," she said, frowning.

“Regardless, my offer stands," he replied with a wolfish grin.

Kisara hesitated. “Well, we'll see."

She raised her tunic again, this time leaving it raised as he reached forward to touch her. An unexpected gasp escaped her maw as Razy squeezed her breasts, his breath quickening while he hefted and explored her chest. The thumbs of his paws passed over her large nipples which quickly began erect from the attention.

Razy pinched them ruthlessly as he squeezed her furred breasts, tugging out the nipples as they hardened in full. “You have a mother's teats."

Kisara giggled in spite of herself. It was a commonplace azecti compliment that she found rather self-explanatory its suggestion, but she was pleased by it anyway. Few ever even saw past her tainted blood or her colors, so it was thrilling to hear of another's enjoyment of her… assets.

Razy continued to play with her chest, his hands delightfully rough, his claws sinking gently into her flesh just enough for her to feel them and harder still as he pinched her nipples. Then, without warning, he pressed his muzzle into her bosom, prompting her to hug his head tightly as his breath rushed across her silky fur.

He suckled hard on one of her teats, drawing another gasp from her, while his other hand fondled her free breast as if it belonged to him. She allowed him his pleasure, his chance to taste her, for just a moment longer—refusing to acknowledge the thrill in her own heart and the dizzying jolts shooting between her thighs—before forcing him back. Wordlessly she reached over to their table and plucked a meaty ball, then with a grin pressed it against his muzzle. He opened wide and allowed her to place it upon his tongue, his eyes showing confusion, but it melted away when she drew near once more and kissed him. Their tongues intermingled with the spiced meat, oily and delicious, their tongues sparring wetly and deeply until she stole the meat from his maw and made away with her theft, slowly chewing with a mischievous grin as she cruelly repositioned herself so that her plump butt pressed and rubbed against the growing lump in Razy's pants.

Kisara had taken lovers before, each of them finding themselves naked at her side for different reasons. For instance, when she had been young the males of her tribe would often dare each other to mount her. She had still welcomed them, hoping to more permanently capture the fancy of a mate in a situation that allowed her the chance to cut through all the horrid rumors voiced about her. It had worked a few times, but never for long. They were always pressured to leave her—by their friends, their families, and their Path masters. Others simply felt uncomfortable around her after a time—it was a tangible thing to them, apparently, the feeling they described very much like a weaker version of the waves of nausea revulsion that assaulted Kisara whenever someone consciously touched her horn. Others had been females, many of them attracted to her colors, but in the end they all either ended up with males or moved on to a less controversial lover.

None of them had ever looked at her with the same desire and gentle delight that Razy did. It was so exhilarating that it was almost intoxicating, but she was determined to not give into it. She had promised him a taste and that was all she intended to give him. Let his imagination work on what else he might purchase.

“Pull out your cock," Kisara commanded as she stood from his lap and began to undo the leather cord holding up her slacks. She let them fall freely to the ground, exposing herself to the cold air and Razy's warm gaze, then climbed up onto the table, her rump and tail carefully working to push aside the food. When she was settled on the table, thighs closed, Kisara gave him a mischievous grin.

“You can smell and look all you want, but you can't touch," she said. “You can still go ahead and, er, satisfy yourself if you want. Next time…" Her grin widened. “I'll help you out, maybe. It all depends on how much you help me out. Fair?"

“Hardly," Razy breathed, his slacks already partway down. “I am easily getting the better end of the deal."

Kisara shook her head wistfully. Damn you, Razy. I know I'm not worth a dozen generations' worth of artifacts. She shoved the thought away and forced herself to focus on the moment.

She slowly spread her thighs for him. Strands pulled from matted fur, her wetness having progressed far along her inner thighs that she surprised herself. Well, whatever. She tugged her tunic up over her head with one paw so that he could see her breasts, then reached down and rubbed her paws against her mound before slowly using her digits to spread herself open, giving him a clear view of the fleshy, wet, and warm tunnel within.

Her own eyes were on his cock, a magnificent thing that was a pleasantly dark shade of red. It was only just above average size, odd only in that she was certain he could have made it any size he wanted. The tip was tapered and already generously oozing precum that filled the air with a pleasant masculine scent that made her dizzy. His knot was also already partially inflated despite their brief intimacy, and the size of the bulge told of a delightfully wicked promise. Kisara was already imagining the fierceness of his knot, her pussy forced to hold it within while he spurted several thick loads into her womb over the long hours of their knotting.

Skies and seas aflame, this is turning me on… She was already panting, her tongue dripping down glistening strands onto her dark fur. But she kept herself composed—to a degree, anyway—and simply tilted her head towards Razy. “Well?" she asked.

He gave her an amused grin, then he shamelessly spat onto his paw, grabbed hold of his burgeoning cock, and began to stroke it. Slowly at first, then more furiously, his paw squeezing and sliding up and down the base just above the knot, a wet sound rising into the air as his dribbling precum fell into the strokes and smeared like lubricant. Kisara found herself entranced as she watched him jerk his meaty dick, the scent of cock and precum swirling within her nostrils, and soon found herself unable to resist joining him. Her paws traced the wet curves of her mounds, toying with the lips before pressing against the nub of her clit. She sneaked another clawed digit deep into her gushing pussy while still toying with her clit, her other hand seeming to have moved with a will of its own to fondle her own breast, two fingers cruelly pinching and twisting her own nipple in memory of his own delightful attention.

She worked her fingers quicker and quicker until the air was filled with nothing but the wet sounds of their crotches and their soft lusty moans. Kisara felt herself edging to an orgasm as she fingered herself, three now slick fingers barely squeezing in and out of her tight tunnel, thighs spread shamelessly wide in front of the world's most infamous monster. It was at that moment that this very same monster rose with a painfully cute and soft roar and a desperate grunt, the orgasm making the chimaera shudder and causing his skin to symmetrically ripple through a dozen different colors and shapes—scales, feathers, skin, stone—as his cock sputtered thick streams of cum.

Those streams sprayed onto Kisara's fur, hot and pungent with his masculine scent, bringing Kisara over the edge into her own orgasm, her back arching as a lusty moan escaped her lips, her mind for the moment forgetful of the streams of cum splattering over her. Then the orgasm faded, leaving her frighteningly craving more, but also freeing her mind to logic and reason. Kisara scrunched her face as she glanced down at herself and saw the extent to which Razy's ridiculous load had doused her. It amount soaking into her fur was bad enough that had they been among her people Razy's scent would have been evident to everyone within ten feet of her—and it would have been painfully obvious how she had gotten his scent.

She narrowed her gaze as she looked over at Razy.

“Er," he replied sheepishly. “Sorry?"

“You're not sorry," Kisara accused. “At all."

He grinned without denying it and began to remove his shirt. He then helped clean her as best he could, though mostly he just succeeded in smearing his cum deeper into her fur. Well, whatever. It's not like the humans will smell anything over their own stench. She waved him away after a moment, then they both spent an awkward period of silence readjusting their clothing and then seating themselves.

They stared at each other silently from across the table until Razy reached over for a chunk of cooled bread.

“Well?" Kisara asked, arms crossing.

“Well what?" Razy said over a mouthful of bread. “I promised you an answer. Ask the question."

“And you'll answer it? No matter what it is?"

He nodded, then gave her a smug look of satisfaction. “And I will do so again, if you wish there to be a next time."

Kisara frowned as she pondered the suspicious openness. What was stopping her from simply asking where the hoard of treasure was? She thought it over again and again until—in a jolt of realization—she saw that the questions were a kind of trap. Not really a malicious one, but a trap all the same. She had been struggling to imagine what Razy could possibly hope to gain out of all this, but if she forced herself to consider the possibility that he really did just want her, for some damn reason, then, well, it kind of made sense.

After all, he had asked for her to become his caretaker, which would increase the time they spent together, as would granting her access to his dreams, which he had. Dreamwalking was a long, tedious process that would take countless days of work—days he would get to spend with her—and she would only grow to know him better as she unraveled his past slowly through her dreamwalking. That, she realized, was also the method that Razy intended for her to find most of her answers with.

Which meant he wouldn't answer any question directly. Oh, she was relatively certain that he wouldn't risk outright lying to her, but it was obvious that he was confident Kisara couldn't get what she wanted no matter what she asked. What does that mean? Even if he told me the location of, say, one heirloom or another, would that information be meaningless to me? She would have to test it, of course, and there was also the possibility she could simply outwit him… and there within lay the trap. She knew it now to be the quicker but least efficient route that would also cost her the most, but they both knew that she would continue purchasing his answers… just to see if the dice favored her.

Skies and seas aflame, why aren't I more embarrassed about that? she asked, chastising herself. Kisara sighed and leaned down onto the table, her appetite vaporizing between a worrisome anxiety and a dangerous thrill.

“It seems you have figured it out," Razy said quietly as he munched on a bit of meat. “I hope you will not hate me too much for drawing out our time together as long as possible."

Kisara groaned, her frustration surging to its limit. “What. Do. You. Want. From. Me. You could rut literally anything you want! Don't sit there and tell me that my tail is somehow special. So, Razy, why me? Skies and seas aflame, why cursing me?" She let out a growl and tugged at her ears. “This isn't right at all. You're not cruel and arrogant. I even actually liked that just now, from the embrace all the way though cumming in your face and being doused in your seed, and then that look in your eyes afterward… It was just normal bashful awkwardness…" She rapped her fingers anxiously on the table. “They told me you were a monster, but I don't read you as one. I can't read you at all."

“Ironic that they would call me a monster," came Razy's soft reply. “But they are not wrong."

“So you are the monster everyone's heard of? You really did kill thousands of humans and ate their hearts? Buried an entire kingdom in ash, went around slitting the throats of bangal-marked pups and cutting off the wings of harpies and forcing princes and princesses to kill their own families and—"

“Is that your question?" Razy snapped back, his eyes now hard, another rare streak of emotion.

Kisara scowled as she sat back. “No."

“Then?"

She let out a long breath. I want to know. It was a realization that didn't surprise her as much as it should. I want to know what you really are. I want to know who you really are. She paused, hesitant, then reluctantly admitted the final truth to herself. And, skies and seas aflame, I want to know what we cursing are. But now I know that you already want to tell me, so what's even the point of all this?

“I would ask you whether the chimaera is a life or a lie," Kisara began slowly as she thumped a paw on the table. “But you would just tell me both." Razy paused, his head tilted, eyes slightly wide with surprise. “So instead I'm going to be patient and ask this: Will you eventually tell me everything?"

Razy gave her a weak, pained smile and nodded. “Everything… and more."